A/N: There are instructions on my profile to find a playlist all the songs featured in this story, check it out if you're interested.

Nothing ever seemed to change. That bothered Squidward more than anything in life, more than the constant annoyances of his neighbors and the slew of insufferable customers he dealt with on a daily basis; he couldn't take the continuity. For years, it seemed the only disturbances of the usual grind were the antics Spongebob and Patrick dragged him into, and the more time passed, the more even they felt monotonous. He longed for fame from his artistic abilities, but at that point, anything new would have been welcomed with open tentacles. Life seemed to be a spinning void, pulling him under waves until he drowned in the exacerbation of Bikini Bottom and all its calamities.

"Squidward," a voice broke his conscience.

Squidward snapped back to face the voice and found himself looking into the kitchen. Spongebob, flipping patties, gazed at him with his usual smile.

"What?"

"We have customers," Spongebob chirped, sliding across the kitchen to fetch the Krabby Patty fixings.

Squidward turned back to the register and realized a few fish stood in line, impatiently tapping their fins. With a sigh and monotonous tone, he asked the first fish for his order.

"I want a Triple Krabby Patty."

"Sea cheese?"

"Yes."

"$3.25."

The impatient fish slid the money towards Squidward and, after ringing him up, gave him a number to bring to his table. He quickly made his way through the line, using as little words as possible to get the fish out of his sight. He hated speaking to these simple-minded fish and found himself aggravated at their nuances: the heavy breathing, the gum chewing with a gaping mouth, the congregation of children screaming as they tugged on their mother, their greediness for food, everything made him tense and irritable. His bitterness only grew over the years of dealing with the same, monotonous, gluttonous fish. The bitterness continued to rise in him as he watched them scarf greasy patties and cheesy coral bits into their mouths, sucking the straws of seafoam sodas until they made the insufferable sound of rattling ice.

"It's empty, it's empty, stop sucking the straw over and over again," he mumbled, "you know nothing's going to come out."

"Do you offer free refills?" A new voice piped up from in front of the register.

Squidward continued to glare at the dining area with his head rested on his suction cups, avoiding eye contact with the annoying fish with the even more annoying question.

"Do you really think Krabs would allow free refills?"

"Well," the voice paused, "that's probably why they suck their drinks dry. It's the only way to get their money's worth."

Puzzled by this unusual response, Squidward turned his head towards the customer to realize that it wasn't a fish at all, but another squid. His wavy, dark brown hair was slicked back, yet a few strands stubbornly curved towards his thick, black-rimmed glasses. The thick frames defined his face, standing out more than his sophisticated outfit; a white collared shirt paired with a navy blue sweater vest. Squidward's eyes flickered as he quickly analyzed the stranger, realizing he had never seen this squid before.

He felt his gaze lingering on the squid for too long and recognized he had to break it. "What can I get for you?" Squidward asked in an attempt to move the conversation forward.

"Do you carry any tea?"

"I wish," Squidward scoffed, "if you're looking for culture, you're in the wrong place."

"Well then," the squid sighed with a shy smile, "I guess I won't have anything, then. I'm sorry to waste your time."

The squid turned to leave and as he walked away, Squidward felt an unexplainable tugging feeling in his chest. Maybe it was intrigue of the stranger's response, or maybe it was something more, but before he could think, he felt the words tumbling out of his mouth.

"I always bring tea from home, you can have some of mine."

The squid spun to face Squidward once more as Squidward reached under the register for the black tea and quickly barked at Spongebob for a ceramic mug of hot water. Spongebob brought him the mug and peaked over the window to observe what was happening before going on with his work, whistling as he spun about the kitchen making Krabby Patties. He quickly assembled the cup of tea and gave it to the stranger.

Twisting the tea bag, the squid watched the water become cloudy as the leaves steeped in the water. "I really appreciate it…" he trailed off, then looked back at Squidward, "I'm sorry, your name?"

"Squidward."

"I'm Squinn," he quaintly smiled once more, "thank you, Squidward."

Squidward found himself at a loss for words as Squinn sat at a table towards a back corner of the restaurant. He sipped his tea, his eyes flickering around the room as Squidward's had when they looked at one another. To Squidward, it looked like Squinn was analyzing the fish in the room; he wondered what this new squid was thinking.

Squidward tried to shake his lingering stare by sitting back and pulling out a book. He tried to confine his thoughts to the page, but the longer he forced himself to focus, the more his thoughts roamed until his eyes scanned the page only to pretend like he was reading. He couldn't understand why this squid was so captivating to him, but he could only guess his interest was peaked by a break from the boredom. Every fish in Bikini Bottom fell into the same mindless spell and he felt like the only colorful spectrum in a black and white world, and yet this stranger came along, seemingly as detached from the monotony as he. Squidward felt so many questions formulating in his mind: where this squid came from, why he was in Bikini Bottom, of all places, why he would be at the Krusty Krab with a cup of tea, clearly more sophisticated and articulated than any of the clientele.

Squidward glanced back to the table to find that Squinn was no longer at the table, and as he looked around him, he realized that the mug had been neatly placed on the stack of dishes near the register. The stack of dirty dishes served as a subtle way of telling customers to return their dishes when they finished, yet the majority of fish only saw this as decor and left their dishes at the tables. The mug, placed perfectly in the center of a plate, was speckled with the remnants of tea leaves.

He felt the tugging feeling rise in his chest once more as the guilt set in. You could have spoken to him one last time if you looked up. If you weren't reading, he may have said something to you. Squidward quickly shook the feeling away, returning to his usual bitter resolve. What does it matter, he reminded himself, he's just like everyone else around here. Don't get your hopes up. There's nothing special about anyone in Bikini Bottom.