A/N: Thank you to all who are reviewing! It lets me know that this story is being read and enjoyed. :D

Written from the Lorax's point of view.

This was bad. I knew he'd never admit it until it got a heck of a lot worse, but this was very, very bad from my perspective. Something leapt in my chest when he started coughing this time. Those terrible, hacking coughs that left him gasping for air. He leaned far too heavily against the doorframe, and held his chest as though it might burst. I didn't think it would, but then, I wasn't an expert on human anatomy. This time he didn't seem to recover as he had before; he wasn't breathing right, and it bothered me to no end. He sat there for a while, head back against his domicile's doorframe. Where was the optimism? Where was the excitement, the energy? I read none of these things on his features anymore, and it reeked of illness.

Perhaps he was lying... maybe he really was dying, but he just didn't want me to know. I couldn't bring myself to believe him when he said he'd be fine in a week, and I believed him much less after an episode like this. And when he opened his eyes to glance in my direction, I got the feeling he was starting to debate whether he even believed it himself.

"Like I said before, kid, there's something seriously wrong with ya," I said, in the vain hope that convincing him of what I thought to be the truth would somehow return him to better health. I'd seen it happen to my trees too often to let it happen to a human that – though I would never ever admit it – had become my friend. He shook his head, and I moved aside to let him pass as he walked feebly inside. Again, where was that usual energy? I'm sure he was aware of this change, though why didn't he say anything about it? He barely paid heed to my gaze as he shakily walked over to the sink and drank some water from the tap. He downed a full two glasses of the stuff... the most I had ever seen him have in one sitting was a half-glass. He leaned on the counter for a moment, then slowly wandered back over to his bed and sat down on the edge of it. He stared absently at the ground for a few minutes. It took me a while to figure out what it was he was doing, but then it occurred to me that his breathing still wasn't quite right. He seemed to be having trouble with it, and had been since that last bout of coughing. I walked up to the bed and sat down beside him, my feet dangling over the edge. He probably didn't want to talk, and I wasn't going to force him. I waited just a little bit impatiently in silence for him to calm himself. At least, that's what I assumed he was doing.

The silence was broken by more of those hated racking coughs. It wasn't as bad as the last time, but still strong enough to make me nervous. His breathing seemed to get a little better after that, not by much, but at least it was improving.

"You sure you're okay, kid?" I asked. Immediately afterwards, I realized it was a stupid question. Of course he wasn't! And I had just told him not ten minutes ago that there was something serious going on. But he didn't seem to notice – or really didn't care – that the question was ridiculous. Instead, he simply nodded, took a deep breath, cleared his throat and insisted that all he needed was a good night's rest. I didn't believe it for a second, but I wasn't going to argue with him. I simply sat there diligently as he pulled up the covers and turned over onto his back, clearing his throat once more. I would have just fallen asleep where I sat, but I wanted to keep tabs on Beanpole's condition. If this was anything like the trees, he only had about 100 years left. I considered this notion for a while. How long did humans generally live, anyway? The latter question was punctuated by another harsh cough, but when I turned I found him sleeping, his breathing relatively back to normal.

I allowed myself to relax for a while, trying not to think about the newfound heaviness of my eyelids, or how tired my limbs felt. Alas, avoiding these thoughts meant that the ones I actually lingered on involved the day's earlier events. This didn't make me feel any less tired. For example; who knew pans were so heavy? Like that question wasn't going to make my limbs feel any less asleep. I changed the content of my reverie. Who knew that bowls were so big? In the Once-ler's arms, it seemed like a moderate-sized bowl, but the minute I tried to pick it up... well, let's just say that I was surprised at the immensity of the thing. I mean, I realize I'm short, but I'm not that short. From there, my thoughts wandered to the pancakes themselves. Personally, I thought they looked pretty decent. Pipsqueak seemed to like them well enough. Then again, Bar-ba-loots ate anything. I was a bit disappointed that Beanpole didn't at least try one. I comforted myself at the time with the knowledge he was really sick and probably couldn't, but now I wasn't so sure that was the reason. Maybe he actually didn't like my pancakes, even after all the time I spent making them!

I glanced suspiciously over at the sleeping form beside me. He looked so cozy, bundled up in the blanket, the quilt revealing its many different colours as the moonlight glazed the rise and fall of the Once-ler's breathing. Pipsqueak wandered in, then. He was just as concerned about his human companion as I was, though he didn't seem to understand the gravity of the situation. I wasn't sure that I did anymore, either. I lifted the tiny Bar-ba-loot up to my side and he crawled over my legs to curl up in the crook of the Once-ler's arm. I couldn't suppress the small smile that took over my features as – even in his sleep – the Once-ler kid set gentle hand over Pipsqueak's head, and the tiny Bar-ba-loot snuggled into it, yawning contentedly. I yawned myself, glancing at the alarm clock that stood to the side of the bed. I couldn't read it, but Beanpole had told me that it was used to tell time.

Tell time what?

My eyes slowly drooped shut, but I spared one more glance at the peacefully quiet form to the left of me before closing them. He seemed fine for now, so I deemed it safe to get just a few minutes' sleep.

A/N: Please let me know what you think! I'm a little apprehensive about how this chapter turned out, as I've gotten used to writing from the Once-ler's POV… so I'm not so sure that everything turned out quite right. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it :D