A/N: My evil school has suddenly decided that the creative writing course for next year is cancelled for the sole reason of "We're one person short of the required amount of people to make up a class." It's a ludicrous reason, and I'm not happy about it. On a happier note, as a result of this unfortunate decision, I'm just going to have to write more fanfiction on my own time for practice. :D Yay! Therefore, I dedicate this chapter to the absurdity of my wonderfully nonsensical school.

Lorax's POV

Of course, I woke up when the daylight began to shine through the windows. What a surprise. I sighed and sat up, stretching out the kinks in my fluffy orange arms. Okay, I admitted it, I'm fluffy, but that changes nothing! Pipsqueak was still curled up in the midst of the many folds of the quilt beside the Once-ler, but the Beanpole himself was sitting up against the pillows. He had carefully balanced a steaming mug between his fingers, but he wasn't drinking it. In fact, he wasn't doing anything at all. He just sat there, staring off into nothing and breathing in the steam from the mug. I hate to admit it, but I kind of panicked. Just a little. Absolutely nothing as extreme as jumping up and waving a hand in front of his face until he gave me a stern look, nothing like that. He went back to concentrating on nothing as I sat down and watched him suspiciously. With another sidelong glance at me, he sighed and set the mug on his lap. I expected him to say something at that point, but he simply returned my gaze with an expectant air.

It took me a few seconds to figure out that he was waiting for me to say something myself. Unfortunately, I couldn't really remember what it was I was going to say... was I even going to say anything? So I settled on stating the obvious.

"You're up already," I said. He nodded patiently. He didn't seem very annoyed with me so far. The last two days, he had had this look about him that suggested I was being a nuisance... not that I really cared, but today his demeanor suggested that perhaps he didn't mind my company. Either way, I wasn't going to push my luck quite yet. He coughed slightly and cleared his throat.

"You feelin' any better?" I asked, hopping from the bed and rummaging around for that huge bowl. No harm in trying my hand at pancakes again, right? I found it stashed away in the farthest corner of the topmost cupboard, slightly hidden behind a few other objects that didn't quite look like they belonged there. I got the sneaky suspicion that Beanpole had purposely hidden it while I was still asleep. I gave him a backwards glance. He was watching me a little nervously, but when I pointed up to the bowl, he smiled guiltily and stood to walk over. I watched him carefully as he turned on the back element of the stove before reaching up to remove the bowl from its hiding spot. Just to annoy me, he set it down on the counter just out of my reach, then pointedly ignored my mock-angry glare as he set a kettle on the element.

"Ya didn't answer my question," I said, pushing a chair up to the counter. "I asked ya how you were feelin'." He shook his head, and I took this as an indication that he wasn't any better. I clambered up onto the chair and pulled the bowl closer, rummaging around for the flour. After a great effort of searching, I came up short. Beanpole must have hidden that, too. I tapped him lightly on the shoulder and crossed my arms when he turned to me. He looked at me innocently, with a slightly quizzical expression thrown in.

"C'mon, Beanpole, tell me where it is," I said, tapping my foot. He grinned to himself and shook his head. Just like 'im. Stubborn. I rolled my eyes and expanded my search to cover the rest of my friend's domicile. I pulled the chair around the room to search the higher places that I couldn't reach after exhausting all lower-to-the-ground hiding spots. I finally found it stuffed in one of the pillows on his bed. How in the world had I not noticed it there before? I pulled out the bag and held it up triumphantly as the Once-ler kid smiled and rolled his eyes. Now to find everything else...

I hate to say that it took me half the morning to find everything he'd hidden, owing to the fact that most of it was in rather high, unreachable places that I'd never think to look. I still managed to find it all, though, and I set myself to work. The pancakes were cooking nicely; their outsides beginning to turn a bit black, but they were still – as of yet – within the parameters of the 'reasonably well-done' category. Anyway, they looked gooey on the inside. I was sure that wasn't supposed to happen. I'd just keep them in the pan a little longer. I could hear Beanpole cough every once in a while from where he had gone back to sitting up against the pillows of his bed, breathing in the steam from the mug of hot water he held between his fingers. It was rather odd behaviour, but the kid himself had proven on many occasions to be a little on the odd side. Still, he was sick. I had to take that into account, so I asked him about the mug. He didn't answer right away... actually, he didn't answer at all. He simply continued to stare at the air in front of him as though he hadn't heard.

"Hey, Beanpole!" I practically shouted, making him start in surprise and nearly drop the steaming mug. He looked at me in slight exasperation as he recovered.

"What's with the mug?" He glanced down at the mug, then back to me, looking as though he was trying very hard to figure out a way to answer my question believably. He cleared his throat before saying something that was nearly inaudible; after which he broke into a pretty bad coughing fit. I hopped down from the chair on which I stood and dashed over to the bed, leaping up and discovering that I was completely at a loss concerning what I should do next. So I patted him lightly on the back until the fit passed, then noted with a prick of fear that his breathing had gone thin once again. I helped him to sit up straight, and he leaned wearily against the pillows with a hand on his chest. After a few minutes, he took a drink of the now lukewarm water in the mug and leaned forward again.

I didn't realize I was staring at him until he glanced at me and smiled to some extent, indicating that he was fine. His smile remained as he turned and pointed – amused – towards the stove. I glanced in the direction that he indicated, and Beanpole laughed silently at the horrified look my face. The pancakes! The whole pan had literally burst into raging flames, only contained by the perimeter of the pan itself. I darted for the sink, pouring a large measure of water into a cup and dumping it over the fire. A big cloud of steaming smoke rose into the air, making my eyes water as the fire died. When that was taken care of, I turned back to the Once-ler and eyed him warily. His breathing seemed a bit better, but there was still that little something new that made me feel a bit uneasy: He hadn't said a word all day.

A/N: Thanks for reading, hope it was enjoyable. Reviews always welcome!