Work Text:
You know, Spongebob is an enduring little sponge.
He can take being beaten, he can take being made fun of, he can take defeating gods, defeating bad guys, solving mysteries, saving Bikini bottom…
He can be insulted, taken advantage of, be thrown patties at, mocked for being too sensitive or a hundred other things you could count!
The Sponge could endure a whole lot of abuse, he can tell you that with absolutely certainty.
Nothing that is thrown at him will ever stop him from bouncing back into action!
But well.
Maybe he truly had enough of today .
To be honest, the day had started relatively well!
As well as hitting your head on the door, nearly missing work, not eating breakfast and almost forgetting to feed Gary is.
Perhaps he did slip while walking into a mud puddle or maybe some people came up and asked a little too much of him for today.
Really, it could have been the fact that the customers just weren't the best today, served with extra impatience and anger, sided with a lovely bit of hate and emotions.
Squidward and Krabs were kind people when needed to, the Octopus calm on his best days-
But everyone can get sick of anyone for a day! So, Squidward must have been sick of him for that day.
Spongebob returned that internally as much as it filled him with self-loathing disgust.
You know, there was also the fact that his work clothes were smeared and ruined or that after work, fishes and friends alike kept asking him to do tasks.
And oh, ignoring all of this pressure building up to the surface made him nearly burst into tears when he got home.
Well.
No, not tears. Tears are a product of sadness.
Actually, Spongebob wanted to end his emotions.
Good news for him though, he got an amazing best friend that offered him something he couldn't resist every now and then!!!
Something that everyone else would be shocked by, something that no one would be able to stand, something that he could spit into their face and rub it in and TELL THEM TO SUCK I-
“Still fuming innerly, Buddy?”
Spongebob kindly forced his smile up and gave a thumbs up.
Walking across the path, he had eagerly stuffed his hands into his pockets, feeling the warmth in them and the comfort that was rather shallow.
Comfort wasn't what he needed. Not like this currently.
His dear Star had actually helped him pick casual clothes for once in his life, for his work uniform was like a second skin to him at this point.
Yeah, second skin. Disgusting second skin he had needed to shed.
Instead of his white shirt, red tie and brown pants, he wore a rather big, eggplant-colored Hoodie, keeping the hood down for now.
It was short-sleeved, just to show the black sleeves underneath, something he kept for comfortable occasions.
Matched with his brown sweatpants, the only thing he kept from his usual outfit were his shoes and his socks, even if his socks weren't visible.
It was…
- Comfortable.
Yeah, that's the word.
It's not like he hated his uniform! But if he was currently gonna wear it another minute, he probably would have ripped it off.
Walking alongside Patrick, he stuffed his hands more properly into his pockets, keeping that sweet, definitely not forced smile up for everyone to see.
After all, they passed by several fish that couldn't know how miserable his mood was!
Waving, keeping it all up, ignoring the confused stares at his attire-
“You can put the facade down, you know?”
“Hah!! Oh, that's good, Pat!”
Leaning over, he happily whispered.
“Over my dead body.”
He snorted so harshly he might as well have choked, keeping up a steady step as he looked over to his friends' relaxed eyes once more.
A small respite in all this madness. Something he could stare at all day, including his body.
The Star actually wore his flower jacket for once, matching his pants without the light green, now replaced with a sweet, ocean blue.
Looked also nice…is what he would have said, if he. You know.
Gave a shrimp.
…Which he did, in some way.
On this wonderful, delightful day, Patrick was leading him to a building he had seen about a dozen times before. Never a hundred but never below the second digit.
“Alright, we're there! Let's hope their ice cream machine is working this time…”
The little sponge forced another nod to bring the bare minimum to the conversation.
Entering the building, the familiar scent of broken tvs’s, wood, furniture and cloth filled his senses, something delightful filling his soul.
His hands glided over the nearby couch once, the soft fabric squeezing under the pressure of his fingertips.
Barely restraining to scratch it.
Soon enough, they stumbled near the cash register, Patrick as usual doing all the talking for their booking.
One wouldn't expect the amount of professionalism the star could have when needed.
“Ah, you two-! It's good to see you around. I'm guessing the usual high-ranked Rage Room experience?”
That word was like a saving grace for his nerves, letting his little, sweet smile falter in the facility that didn't mind his falls.
He couldn't stop his limbs from visibly slumping, almost like a safe word that let his brain cool down.
Not like he needed to talk.
“Correct! As always, my friend will probably need a few refills-!”
For once, the joking didn't even get to him as he looked lazily around, unclenching his fists in the middle pockets.
It was…cozy, if one could call it that. The entrance room was a mix of wood and broken wall decorations, mostly just for style.
Fairy lights hanging from the ceiling, inviting those who need to get their emotions out in free spirits.
The hall itself where the rooms were located was familiar. It was in a soft, pale brown color, probably freshly painted over if he could take the smell in.
It…was nice.
Familiar.
Safe.
The lights weren't nauseating either, a simple orange color giving them more character than the krusty krab could ever have.
Oh, woops!!!
Let the stupid Thoughts slip~!!!
He's allowed to be sarcastic outside of the workplace!!!
“Spongebob?”
Spongebob quietly blinked, turning over and smiling a little brighter, yet never keeping down the tiredness.
Somewhere where he could be himself. Not like he isn't, but- You know what I mean!
“Yeah- Uhm. Sorry. Yeah, what is it?”
“We were just discussing if you need a sledgehammer or an axe or something.”
For a moment, he thought.
…..
He nodded.
“Only a hammer. I use my hands otherwise!”
The worker gave a quick nod too, writing down all the info needed for the room and letting whatever money Patrick had slip over quickly.
Usually, he didn't question where the star got the money from and it would stay like that today as well, for it was none of his business.
With a final hum and a tap, the Worker gestured towards the doors to their right.
“Alright, you're up in Room three, which as always is extra soundproof. All should be prepared and nice.”
“Thaaank youuu, Mister-”
Spongebob was already starting to speedwalk over to the door, stuffing his hands into his pants and pulling out some elastic gloves.
Usually, you kept them from the last time you were there and the little sponge wasn't one for losing things when concentrated.
Especially if he truly appreciated being there!
And also cause he didn't want to hurt his hands all too much, even when the pain bled away.
From the corridor behind him, the sea star of his dreams approached, brushing off his jacket and taking it off while he put on his gloves.
“Spongebob! Do you still need help getting angry, or?”
Oh, yeah.
He did have issues with that sometimes.
Not like he COULDN'T get angry-! It's just that sometimes, his repressed emotions didn't seem to understand that repression time is over.
Which might or might not be his faulllttt, but you can't blame him for everything!
And besides, his body was currently lurching with things that blubbered so beautifully under the surface, which should make this all easier!
So, he waved it off, giving a more genuine and relaxed smile, even if it was played up.
“Eh, I'll be fine! I'm already riled up and hateful inside, can't be THAT hard to break, huh?”
Without letting Patrick fully respond with that expectant expression, he got into the sweet room of freedom.
The walls - one of the many layers that made it soundproof - was a wooden one, clearly dented from other people who were not happy.
It smelled like coral and even a tad metallic, letting his eyes go towards the furniture, tvs, chandelures and more laid out for him.
He could break them, slash them, let out his emotions finally-
If he was in the mood, of course!
….
If. If he was in the mood.
Surely. He must be in the mood.
Right?
….
Spongebob exited the room and stared at the ground for a few seconds before staring at Patrick.
How embarrassing.
“....Okay, maybe help a tiny bit. "I can't do it.”
Patrick's audible snort somehow made him feel better once despite it all.
“Pff- Knew it, let me help you, Buddy!”
In the most gentle way possible, his best friend kneeled down and put the nubs on his shoulders, smiling at him with a determined expression.
Ready to insult his entire being if necessary.
“How harsh am I supposed to go? Tiny crab style? Mega evil person? The baddest idiot you've ever seen? Plankton on a MONDAY?”
Spongebob cycled through the many options, deciding that to actually get those bad emotions out, he needed to get the worst one.
The worst emotions.
The absolute hateful ones.
“Just- Just do your worst, honestly.”
Patrick blinked silently.
“You sure?”
Spongebob blinked back with a huff.
“Uh-huh.”
“Really, Really sure?”
“Mhmmmm.”
That seemed to do it as the star prepared and nodded, patting his chest with a proud hum and a determined expression.
“Your wish shall be my command! Ahemememem.”
Mentally preparing himself, he couldn't be mentally prepared for-
“You're incredibly selfish and deserve no karma for all that you've done…..Robert.”
Spongebob
Stared.
It was was like he could
Feel the actual hatred boiling over.
Trigger wording. Using his insecurity….and using a despised nickname?
Ha
Hahaha
Haaaaaaaa.
“Hahahaa Wonderful. Great. Perfect. Don't talk to me.”
Spongebob did a 180° and slammed the door shut with a clean swing.
His knuckles clenched so hard that they might have just started bleeding.
Not
Not that he would recognize the feeling of pain anymore
Not with the red starting to cloud his mind and eyes, shaking more and more.
Almost like he wasn't meant to feel all that he repressed at this moment all at the same time.
Didn't
Didn't matter.
Feeling your eyes go pinpricked is probably not a good thing huh
Spongebob took a shaky breath as he got close to the first thing, pushing the sledgehammer away forcefully.
Not necessary for the kind of sponge he was right now.
Actually, he had something better, but that was for later. His hands needed to be occupied at the current moment.
So, all his anger was put to the Chandelure, a fragile yet beautiful thing.
Too pretty. Too flashy. Too perfect.
Disgusting, disgusting, DISGUSTING,
CRISH.
Slamming his foot down, he harshly cracked off a part.
CRACK.
Gloved hands ripped off a glass ornament without a single care, reminding him that people use glasses for safety.
Alas, Spongebob wasn't one to get hurt.
Didn't care either.
Didn't-
CRRRIIIICK.
Didn't matter.
With heavy breaths, he got more forceful, gripping harshly onto the stems of the artifact and RIPPING it off one by one.
Like a delicate flower, going CRICK, CRACK AND CRACKLE with every snap that came along with it, with every piece of broken glass.
He had half kneeled down and half still stood up, shaking more as the stupid pieces of garbage started to clang onto the floor.
Filling it with useless pieces.
Being so special! Yet so unnecessary.
An uncharacteric snarl escaped him as he picked it up, hissed AND
THREW IT AGAINST THE WALL-
CRACK!
It shattered upon contact.
Oh well.
Not the FIRST AND WON’T BE THE LAST-
THUMP!
Spongebob easily jumped over to a nearby TV, full on crashing through the screen and slamming his shoes down on it recently.
Using force, letting every single crack expand as it got louder and louder and LOUDER-!
SNAP! CRACK! CRICKLE!
It was a rare delight to see everything break apart in hot anger, the amount of red in his face, in his eyes, in his blood-
It was spreading.
Turning into tears that flooded down his face as the minutes started to almost static through.
Hearing
Crashing. Destruction. Feeling his body hit objects and hearing harsh SLAMS as they hit whatever surface the room provided to him.
Splitters had flown across the room.
Dear Neptune, he felt FREE-
Everyone would H A T E him if they saw him like this. LIKE T H I S.
OH, THEY WOULD JUST BE UTTERLY DISGUSTED, WOULDN’T THEY?!?!
S L A M!
The TV had been broken into bits by this point and the tears were without his permission flooding down his place as he snarled and shook.
Hurt. Everything hurt.
Good.
Keep hurting for once.
Without thought and without mind, the sponge ran over to a table and broke it in half-
With a simple flick of his Spatula.
Oh, yeah. He brought that with him.
An accessory. A beloved toy. A money maker.
And also a deathly weapon for robots and critters if used right.
“DO YOU LIKE THAT, MR KRABS?! YOU WOULD SCREAM LIKE THIS IF I BROKE YOUR TABLES!!!!”
Perhaps he was being ridiculous screaming such things
Breaking the table, turning it into bits and throwing it against another table at full force, breaking it too as he already went over to the next.
Tearing a sofa apart, making the fabric useless, making it unrecognisable beyond repair.
It went on and on, until every object was no more. Until all that was left was bits and pieces.
Till the gloves didn't do anything to protect his red, hurting hands, till exhaustion and dirt covered his entire body.
Till tears and wiped off saliva mixed with the heavy noises banging against the walls, keeping up the ringing.
The walls were covered in scratches and dents now, more than ever.
More than before.
….
Spongebob wasn't done. Didn't want to be done.
Gripping his arms didn't help. Restlessness seeped through the Body too easily once all the anger was released.
It hurt to grip, yet it was pleasant. Something he didn't allow himself to do often.
To grip
To hurt
More.
Give him a little more time.
Would the others look at him weird for this? Did they even deserve to look at him weird?
Maybe, if he had one of Sandy's inventions here. Or Squidward's paintings. Or a table from the Krusty krab. Or an Invention of Plankton’s.
Would they deserve it?
Did he deserve such a thing?
….Changing the pace was almost easy as he put down his Spatula, not caring for the heavy amount of dust and debris that was on his hoodie.
Though, the sleeves were used once or twice to wipe snot and tears away.
Not like it helped.
Standing there shaking like a leaf, Spongebob stared down, wondering for a moment if any of this was…worth it.
Sniffling softly, constantly crying over nothing, destroying things and wasting money.
He's not usually like this.
This Sponge is usually sweeter.
…..
Slowly.
Spongebob cracked open the door and whispered to his friend sitting outside.
“....P-Pat…”
Without a hint of hesitation, his friend stood up and came towards the door, already looking at his face full of tears.
Only Sympathy and care showing, even if there was no smile on his face.
Rather something casual.
Something expectant.
“Hey- You need a minute outside?”
Spongebob shakily shook his head and motioned for Patrick to come in.
He just- He just needed someone to tell him that feeling all this isn't…
That. That word-
Without needing to share words, Patrick slipped in, looking at his dearest Friend and gently patting his flat head.
Not asking, not even giving the usual comfort that he would give in bad situations, as if he knew it wouldn't do much now.
Not in a literal Rage Room with hundreds of broken pieces.
Choking out his entire sentence, he spoke with in between sobs.
Just letting it slip once.
“i-Im…n..not- Is this…selfish…?”
The word that slipped out of his mouth made him shudder more, getting an even more sympathetic yet relaxed stare from his friend as he pulled him close to his chest.
Still resuming the patting, luckily.
“Not at all. It's likeee- Ah! It's like when Squidward gets angry!”
Squidward?
Well…Squidward does get angry often and then locks himself in his house or gets angry at him for exchange.
Which, he doesn't mind-
“Would you call him- uh. That word?”
Silently, the sponge thanked the star.
“...No.”
“Then it's not selfish! Simple logic!”
Another sniffled, this time having something grow on his face.
Red it sure was, but the snort that escaped him was getting a smile included with it.
Just slowly turning into soft snickering, pressing his head against his friend's chest and accepting the embrace for a minute.
Just for a few minutes, allowing himself comfort in the aftermath of intense anger.
….
Slowly, they got half out of the hug.
Half due to the fact that the nubs were still on his shoulders and the hands still on Patrick's.
Neither wanted to truly let go, he hoped. Or perhaps that was just his own clingiest hoping for more.
“You wanna go home, or?”
Spongebob stared.
Did he?
Did he want to go home?
He could take more objects. Destroy more. Let more anger out.
Until he was reminded that the entire room smelt like glass, wood and fabric, getting a cough out of him.
Today it seemed to be enough.
Just for today.
A nod came from him as appreciative as he could be.
“Y..yeah. I- Uhm. I think I'm done here- hahaa..”
The Sponge couldn't help but chuckle more as he was given a handkerchief, quietly thanking his friend and wiping his face clean.
He probably looked like a mess.
Covered in dust and debris, red-faced and with dried tears covering his face, perhaps still having red and hurt fingers-
Maybe needing to bandage those actually.
Getting out of the room, he promptly ignored anyone else that he could have known and walked hand in hand with Patrick.
The one who helped him and paid for him.
And also now that he noticed, had probably raided the ice cream machine with the spills on him.
A chuckle escaped him, more tired than ever.
Patrick may have been right.
Because…
Perhaps it was alright to let that anger out sometimes.
Just maybe.