Part Two

A night's sleep didn't help Patrick feel any better in the morning. There was still that sinking feeling, that pit in his belly telling him that something was going on with his best buddy. Even after Spongebob said nothing was wrong, and that he promised to tell if something was wrong, Patrick couldn't make himself believe him.

First thing in the morning, before he even put on pants, Patrick went to Spongebob's door and knocked as hard as he could. Maybe this time he can get him to say what's the matter, and they can fix it together! There wasn't anything they couldn't do together.

But no matter how long he knocked and called for him, no one answered.

Patrick tried going inside, but the door was locked.

'Spongebob never locks his door.'

He looked through the windows, only to find his house dark and empty, with no sign of him anywhere.

Something's wrong.

He didn't say he was going anywhere, and whenever he did, Spongebob always asked him to watch Gary, but he didn't see the snail anywhere either.

Where'd he go?

. . .

The Krusty Krab! Maybe he was there!

After putting on some pants, he ran down to the restaurant, this time not for his morning Krabby Patty.

But it was Mr. Krabs that told him that Spongebob wasn't there either.

"Lad said he was going to be gone for a few days," Mr. Krabs said. "I'm surprised he didn't tell you about this."

Spongebob hasn't been telling him much of anything lately.

Everyday since then, he'd wake up in the morning and knock on his door, hoping that he came back. He didn't get a letter or phone call from his best friend to tell him he was okay, nothing!

Second day, nothing.

Third day, nothing. Squidward did yell at him to keep it down, though.

Fourth day, nothing.

But on the fifth day when he lifted his rock, he finally, finally, saw Spongebob again! He was okay! Patrick couldn't climb out fast enough to get to him. He missed his best friend, they haven't done anything together in forever, things haven't been the same in so long.

The first thing Patrick did was scoop his best friend into a hug.

"Where've you been, buddy? I've been looking all over for you," he said, swinging him back and forth. "I've been worried about you." This'll help him feel better right? The two of them have done this plenty of times before, and it always made the both of them laugh.

It's been so long since the two of them laughed together.

But instead of a hug back, he felt Spongebob push and kick against him.

"Let go of me, Patrick!" He shouted. "Get off!"

Even though he was the stronger of the two of them, it was hard to hold on to someone squirming in his arms. As muc as he wanted to hold on to him, Patrick lost his grip, and Spongebob fell to the ground. Was he holding him too tight? It was never a problem before.

Patrick tried reaching down to help him up, but Spongebob only moved backwards on the ground as soon as he saw his hand. Instead, he got up on his own.

"Spongebob?" Patrick tried stepping closer, but Spongebob only backed away from him. And why was he looking at him like that? Like he didn't recognize him anymore? But it's only been a few days, he couldn't have forgotten who he was that fast could he? "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. You just scared me," he said. "Do you need something?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to go jellyfishing. It's been forever since we did anything together," he said with a grin. He'd like that, jellyfishing was one of their favorite things to do. That'll cheer him up for sure-

But his grin wasn't returned. Spongebob still looked at him like he never saw him before.

Patrick didn't like it.

It didn't look right.

It didn't feel right.

He never looked at him like that before.

"Maybe some other time, Patrick," he said. "I'm busy."

. . .

Spongebob never turned down jellyfishing. But he just did and now he's walking away.

"Busy with what?" Patrick asked, following him.

"Cleaning."

"I can help. . .!"

"I can take care of it myself, Patrick. You'll just get in the way," He said. And his door was shut in his face.

Something is very wrong.

The next couple of days, Patrick tried anything he could think of to get SpongeBob to spend any amount of time with him, but each time, he was met with some reason why not. Spongebob said maybe later, maybe another day, but later started to feel like it was never going to come. Each day it took longer and longer for him to answer the door. Each day when he waved at him as he walked to work, all Patrick got was that same weird look.

He was right there, but to Patrick it felt like he was losing his best buddy.

Something's very wrong, and he needed help.

"Patrick, Patrick! Calm down, you aren't making any sense!"

When Patrick came to her treedome, Sandy thought he was going to break the door down with how hard he was banging on it. As soon as she opened the door, he came rushing in, babbling incoherently, pacing around and waving his arms frantically. All she was able to make out from what he was saying was 'Spongebob' and 'wrong'.

"Now, what's this about Spongebob?"

"Something's wrong with him," Patrick said.

"Is he hurt?"

"No. . ."

"Is he sick?"

"No. . ."

"Is someone messin' with him?"

"I don't think so. . ."

"Then how do you know somethin's wrong with him?"

"I just do, Sandy!" He cried. "He's not acting like himself! He doesn't want to spend time with me, and he talks different, even his eyes are different! He looks at me like he doesn't know who I am, but we're best friends! He's not the same, something's wrong with him! It's a butt feeling!"

"You mean a gut feeling, Patrick," she corrected. "But I get what you mean. Last time I spent time with him, he was actin' pretty strange."

Ever since the last time the little square dude came over, the whole thing was on the back of her mind whenever she tried to focus on anything else. He was so uncharacteristically quiet the whole time. She asked him if the whole No Spongebob Day thing was bothering him, and he said no. But Spongebob wasn't very good at hiding his emotions and it clear he was lying. But it was also clear that pushing him to open up wasn't going to do any good, so she didn't. Maybe he just needed some space after everything.

But now it was getting so bad that it had Patrick in a frenzy. If there was anyone in the whole world that would know if something was wrong with Spongebob, it's Patrick.

"How about I come with you to go talk with him?" She offered. "He might open up if there's two of his friends there."

Patrick nodded between his sobs. That looked like it made him feel better. After climbing into her suit, the two of them started the walk to the familiar pineapple house. It was longer than usual, with Patrick walking slower as he cried, but they managed.

As they reached Conch Street, they spotted Squidward as he took out the trash. Patrick nearly tripped over himself as he rushed over to him and started talking so fast it was hard to understand him.

"Get off me you blubbering oaf!" Squidward shouted as he shoved Patrick off of him. "What is the matter with you?!"

"Sorry about him, Squidward. Patricks been a mess," said Sandy after catching up to him. "Say, have you noticed anything odd about Spongebob lately?"

"How should I know? It's not my job to monitor him everyday."

"Oh, c'mon. You work with 'em practically everyday. You must've noticed something," she pressed. "Patrick says he thinks something's wrong with him. Somethin' really wrong by the way he's actin'. Are you tellin' me you didn't notice anything?"

Squidward didn't want to get involved with this.

After all the chaos and mayhem that Spongebob caused him every day, he wanted to enjoy this. . . .whatever this was for as long as he could before it eventually ended. Because it always ended at some point.

But. . .

He sighed, looking over at his yellow neighbors house. It's been a while. A long while as he waited for things to return to the bothersome normal he became used to over the years, but it was taking it's sweet time. Which was fine for him! Wonderful even!

"If you really must know. . ."

When Mr. Krabs told him that Spongebob would be gone for a few days, Squidward thought about buy a lottery ticket with all this good luck he's been having lately. Sure, working at the Krusty Krab was a waste of his potential, but it was at the very least a tolerable job without a laughing little maniac working in the kitchen behind him, constantly working at his patience.

Those days passed way too fast for his liking, and much to his disappointment, one day, Spongebob came through those double doors again. And Squidward braced himself and his ears for a loud, ear splitting, migraine inducing greeting first thing in the morning.

But it never came.

He peaked over his magazine and watched as his porous neighbor walked past the cashier boat and into the kitchen, all without a word or glance his way.

That was. . .weird.

Not unwelcome, definitely not, but still weird.

Squidward looked back into the kitchen, watching Spongebob survey the mess that has become of it before he started cleaning. All without a song or hum or whistle. Just the ambient sound of dishes, sweeping, mopping, and the scraping of the grill to get it clean and to his nigh impossible standards.

. . .

He's okay, right?

Bah, of course he was.

But as the day continued, Squidward kept an eye on him. Half out of concern, half because he expected him to snap out of. . .whatever this was at any moment and he needed to brace himself. But as the customers and orders came, as he cooked and carried them to each table, it was done in silence, with only the squeak of his shoes following him. None of the song and dance or theatrics he put on in an attempt to entertain everyone and himself.

. . .

Spongebob couldn't have been serious about not annoying him anymore, right? Sure, he might've meant it when he said it, but like everything else it was bound to fall apart and leave them all just as they were before.

It was just taking longer this time.

. . . .

Maybe he was serious. . .

Ah, what was he doing worrying about him for?

He was fine.

If Spongebob wanted to keep to that promise, it's not like he was forcing him to do it.

Besides, if something was wrong, he would bounce back. Spongebob always bounced back. It was one of his most persistent traits.

Either that or he'll make it everyone else's problem.

. . .

An hour before their shift ended, it started raining. Squidward brought an umbrella after seeing the weather report that morning. But Spongebob hadn't. Strange, he always kept one or two in the back just in case. He even let Squidward borrow one whenever he needed—

Wait.

Squidward looked up at the inside. Instead of a single color, the inside was printed with a picture of a daytime sky, complete with a smiling sun and clouds.

This was definitely Spongebob's.

As if he needed to feel any worse, Squidward glanced to his left where Spongebob was walk next to him, though a couple arm's length away with no cover from the rain. He might not have liked him, but seeing him getting soaked and looking pathetic was enough for Squidward to decide to try and be nice to him.

Just this once.

'Don't let me regret this.'

"Spongebob," he spoke, trying to get his attention. He didn't seem to work, as the porforian kept his eyes on the road in front of them. "You're getting drenched." Squidward only got a shrug in response. "Don't be an idiot. Get in under the umbrella, it's big enough for two people. You should know, it's your umbrella."

He tried closing the gap between the two of them, But SpongeBob only stepped further away.

"I'm fine," he said.

Oh for the love of- "Just get under the umbrella. You're going to get sick. Why are you being so stubborn about this?" Squidward stepped closer, and Spongebob kept moving backwards, until he fell backwards and off the road into a mud puddle. Great, just great.

"Look at what you did! C'mon, get out of here," Squidward said. He reached down to help him out of the mud—

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" His tentacle was slapped away. "Get away from me!"

It might have been raining, but Squidward still saw his bright eyes looking at him, up and down, wide open and. . . confused? Angry? Whatever it was, it looked so distinctly unfamiliar and wrong on him.

"I don't understand. . .why are you doing this?" Spongebob mumbled. "You can't stand me. Stop it. . .I'm leaving you alone like you want. . . "

As he stood in front of him, shivering and soaked in rain and mud, he was able to get a close look at him. He looked so uncharacteristically tired and worn out, and on the verge of tears. He tried speaking to him again, but it went ignored as Spongebob walked ahead of him, keeping a pace fast enough so that he couldn't catch up. Squidward managed to reach their street just in time to see him run inside his pineapple house and slam the door shut.

Maybe something is wrong.

"So yeah, he's been acting strange. But I wasn't going to question it, because I know as soon as I do, it's going to end," Squidward said.

"But we have to do something!" Patrick shouted.

"Me and Patrick were about to head over and ask him what's goin' on," she said. "It'd be great if you came with us."

Squidward folded his arms. "Fine, fine. But don't expect me to do much."

The three of them made their way to the pineapple house. Patrick was the one to knock on his door. His worry wouldn't allow anyone else to do it. But instead of Spongebob answering the door, it was Gary.

"Gary! Is Spongebob home?"

"Meow-meow meow."

"When was he in the hospital?! Spongebob!" Patrick ran forward, bursting through the door. Sandy and Squidward followed. "Spongebob, are you in here, buddy?"

Walking inside, the scent of wilting flowers hit the three of them pretty hard. Piles of them were all around the living room. And it looked like more was coming, as a huge pile of them came down the staircase. As it moved and shifted, the spotted Spongebob pushing it downstairs and into the living room with a push broom.

When he finally looked up and saw them, he jumped and nearly fell backwards from surprise. He clenched the broomstick and held it in front of him as his eyes darted back and forth between the three of them.

"How did you get in?"

"Gary let us in. We've all noticed that you've been acting strange lately," Sandy said. When he looked at her, she understood what Patrick meant about Spongebob looking at him like he didn't recognize him anymore. He looked at her as if he was searching for something he just couldn't find. "We wanna know what's been going on with you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Spongebob mumbled, turning his eyes to the floor. "Everything's fine."

"No it's not! Something's wrong with you, I can tell!" Patrick said. He tried to step closer, but Spongebeob stepped backwards and gripped the broomstick tighter and held it closer.

"You can tell us if something's wrong, we only want to help," said Sandy. "Is it about everyone leaving town a while ago? You can talk to us about it, you know that, right?"

Spongebob still refused to look at them or answer. It's so strange to see him like this, quiet, keeping a distance from them, and was he trembling? Why? They're his friends, why was he acting like he's afraid of them? He looked like he was on the verge of tears.

This wasn't working, they had to think of something else.

"Where did all these flowers come from?" Squidward asked. He nudged a small pile with his foot. Spongebob didn't have a garden, and none of these flowers looked like it came from his.

"I coughed them up," said Spongebob.

"Coughed them up?"

Spongebob nodded. "They got everywhere; I'm cleaning them up."

"That doesn't make any sense! You can't just cough up flowers," said Squidward. "That's not a thing."

"Wait, Spongebob," Sandy said, interrupting Squidward. "How long ago did you cough these flowers up?"

He shrugged. "Two weeks ago?"

"Are you still coughing them up?"

"No. The doctor removed the rest."

She did not like where this was going. It was all coming together to form one ugly, horrifying picture.

"Spongebob, what did the doctor say that you had?"

"Hacky-hacky, no. . ." He paused, strumming his fingers along the broomstick. "Hanahaki disease."

"You had Hanahaki Disease?! Why didn't you tell us?"

"Sandy, what's going on?" Patrick asked, looked back and forth between the two of them. "What's that?"

Out of everything that could've been going on with him, this didn't even come close in Sandy's mind.

"Hanahaki disease is a rare illness. I don't know much about it, but I know it's caused by unrequited love, whether real or perceived," she explained. "It can be any kind of love, you know, romantic, platonic. And it makes you grow flowers in your lungs. A lot of them. The only way to cure it is to sort of their feelings or to have the flowers removed. But if you have them removed, then you can't love them anymore. And you said you had them removed. .

"Spongebob, did the doctor tell you what would happen before you had them removed?" She asked.

He nodded.

"And you did it anyways?"

"Mm hmm."

". . .Was it us?" She asked. Seeing him hesitate to answer was an answer in and of itself. Him being so quiet, their last few conversations with him, even his uncharacteristic behavior.

He nodded again.

"Why didn't you tell us? We would've done everything to show you we love you! What ever it took, we'd have proved it to you! Don't you know that?"

"But if I can't love everybody anymore, then I can't annoy and bother them. I know everyone thinks I'm a nuisance," he said. "It's supposed to make you happy. Aren't you happy?"

"No, Spongebob, no. We could never be happy with you doing this to yourself."

"Oh. Sorry. There I go messing things up when I'm trying to help, like I always do, huh?" He shrugged, barely sparing them a glance.

How, why was he so calm about this? About removing something like the love he had for his friends? This was serious, but he spoke like he didn't care at all! This wasn't right, none of this was right!

Distraught, Patrick tried going over to him, for a hug, for anything, but Spongebob just moved away from him.

"Too close, that's too close, " he said in a rush. He held the broomstick tight again, like a shield between himself and them. ". .you're too close. . ." His voice trailed off.

"But we're best friends. You said we were best friends no matter what!" Patrick sobbed. "We promised to tell each other if something was wrong. Why didn't you tell me?"

". . .friends," Spongebob hummed. "I don't think I have any of those."

That was more than Patrick could handle. He wailed and ran, bursting through the wall as he cried all the way back to his rock.

"I need a drink," Squidward said. He massaged small circles on both sides of his head as he left.

Turning back to Spongebob, Sandy saw that he was less on edge now that two out of three of them was gone. He still didn't look at her, and still held on tightly to that broomstick, but he didn't look like he was about to make a run for it.

She reached out to him, and he flinched.

"Please don't touch me."

"Okay," she said, putting her arm down. "You should have told us, Spongebob. But don't worry. I'll find a way to fix this, and you. Alright?"

He nodded without saying a word.

As much as wanted to give him a hug, that was a massive no-go right now. Instead, she gave him a wave that he didn't return before leaving. Outside, she could hear Patrick still bawling from under his rock. For a second, she considered asking Squidward for a drink. This wasn't what she expected, what any of them expected.

But she had a lot of work to do if she wanted to fix this, if it could be fixed at all.