A/N: Yet another installment of this particular fanfiction. Since I haven't written from the Once-ler's point of view for a few chapters, I thought I'd go back to him for a chapter or two.
Loud, incessant snoring and a headache as a result was a wonderful way to wake up in the morning. I appreciated the Lorax's company – granted – but it sometimes got a bit trying. The furry meatloaf was still sleeping far too soundly to my right, but Pipsqueak seemed to have woken up with me. The tiny Bar-ba-loot was always right there when I opened my eyes as of late. I patted him on the head and scratched behind his ears while I sorted myself out. My throat was so dry it burned like the sun; that was a complete exaggeration, but the general sentiment was the same. I cleared it and swung my legs over the side of the bed, feeling the odd coldness of the room lash out at my skin as I walked across to the sink for a drink. I scrounged around for a while before I found a glass hidden under a stack of bowls. Couldn't the Bar-ba-loots find a different home to destroy for a while? I was a little bit testy at the moment.
Laryngitis wasn't so bad though, y'know, apart from the constant throat discomfort, the odd pains that sprouted up every once in a while, the occasional lack of breath and the incessant coughing. Other than that: not so bad. I didn't help matters, though, that the Lorax couldn't read very well. He'd gotten the hang of a few words and simple phrases when I started teaching him a week and a half ago. Apparently, the written language had changed a lot since last he had been here. He told me that the spoken language wasn't any different, though, which accounted for his fluency in English.
I glanced towards the snoring furry meatloaf. He was still completely zonked out, the piece of paper I had given him earlier clutched in one hand. I got the feeling there were at least a couple of words on there that he hadn't figured out; otherwise he would've dropped it off somewhere already.
I sighed and turned back to the sink, coughing as I did so. I felt like my knees would buckle if I continued to stand for much longer, so I pulled up the chair the Lorax had been using to reach the stove and sat down. I drank a full glass of water before coughing again. I supposed that this bout of laryngitis wouldn't have been so annoyingly draining had it not been a result of a cold; the effects of which I was still feeling. I really hoped it wouldn't develop into pneumonia; laryngitis was bad enough without antibiotics or throat lozenges. I determined to think that such a rare occurrence would fail to befall me, though I got the feeling that if I decided I wouldn't get pneumonia, I probably would. I didn't really know what I would do if such circumstances as those were to arise.
My vision sharpened slightly as if coming out of a trance, and I realized I had been staring a hole straight through the floor. A hole straight through a furry orange foot standing over the floor to be precise. I glanced up and met the Lorax's eyes. It was apparent that he wasn't quite sure what to think. Nor was I. I hadn't even noticed him approach. I cleared my throat and stood, stumbling slightly at the sudden change in altitude. The Lorax held one of my legs steady with a hand as I braced myself against the counter.
"How ya feelin' today, kid?" he asked, a slight note of hesitant sarcasm in his voice. I rolled my eyes and half-smiled, trying to indicate that my reaction was all in fun. I pointed at the note he still held in his hand, silently inquiring if he had understood it. He glanced at the note as though he had forgotten it was in his hand, then clambered into the chair to set it face-up on the counter. I couldn't help noticing that even up on the chair he was only about half my height.
"I can't figure out this word," he admitted a little grudgingly, pointing to show me which one. The way he jabbed his finger at it told me it had been causing him a fair bit of annoyance. I held up a finger to tell him to give me a minute, then took another drink of water before making my way over to the desk to scavenge around for a pencil. When I found one sticking out of the dirt in my cactus's planter, I waved him over. He hopped down from the chair and pushed it towards the desk, handing me the paper. Okay, how was I going to do this? I obviously couldn't just say it outright. I'd have to spell it out on the paper. Pneumonia. "PN," that was probably what was causing him the most grief, so I scribbled out the P and rewrote the N underneath. "EU" wasn't the best arrangement of letters I had ever seen either. I sounded it out in my head, then wrote down E W beside the N. The rest was easier to convey in simple paper pronunciations, and I soon had a version of the word that would most likely be readable by any kindergartener that knew their basic ABCs.
N E W M O W N Y A
I passed the paper back to him, and he studied the new letters for a moment before sounding it out verbally. I nodded when he looked at me to confirm that he had said it right.
"What's pneumonia?" he asked, trying out the word once again. He handed the paper back to me.
Worse than this. I wrote. He took the paper and spent six seconds reading it. I had gotten into the habit of counting how long it took him to figure out a sentence, monitoring his progress. Four days ago it would have taken him ten seconds to read three words that he hadn't ever seen on paper before. He learned very quickly, but I suppose that shouldn't have been a surprise considering that he was a legendary guardian and all.
Speaking of the legendary guardian, he gave me yet another of those odd, almost worriedly condescending looks. I still had no idea how he managed to pull those looks off, but it usually seemed to work. It was as though he was silently boring his thoughts into my head. The very same head, mind, that was aching quite incessantly. I walked back over to my bed and sat down, resting the palm of my hand on my forehead. The fever wasn't quite so bad, but every other conceivable part of me felt worse. Pipsqueak wandered over to me from his previous perch on the end of the bed, where he had been watching the goings-on with interest. He gazed curiously up at me as my breathing started to strain once again. The Lorax walked over and climbed up on the bed beside me, placing a comforting hand on my arm. I got the funny feeling that the thought of me dying was creeping back into his mind, but I couldn't think on it now. Wait, forget thinking on it, I couldn't really think at all.
Without the slightest warning, the room began to go hazy around the edges, and I felt a bit lightheaded. I was sure the Lorax was saying something, but all I could hear was the pounding of my headache and the strained breaths that managed to escape my lungs. The orange fuzz ball was shaking my arm, I could tell, but it did nothing to prevent me from collapsing back on the covers. I felt Pipsqueak climb up onto my chest and nudge my chin with his nose. I breathed a little better when his small weight was lifted gently off by the Lorax, but it didn't stop the odd cold fear from rising into my chest as I closed my eyes and coughed. I couldn't open my eyes after the coughing ceased; nor could I hear very well the muffled, anxious voice of the Lorax when he said;
"Y-you're gonna be all right, kid."
A/N: Hope you enjoyed it, and please, let me know what you would think about a chapter from Pipsqueak's point of view... I'm not sure that it'd go over well, so I would very much like to know your opinion before I write it. Thank you.