by Ibis Vilen
The same thought keeps running through the Once-ler’s head: It was just an accident. He hadn’t meant to…he lost control, he couldn’t…
He sighs and goes to put his head in his hands but flinches at the sight of them. The once soft, green gloves are hard and crusted in drying blood, or maybe it’s completely dry now. He wonders how long he’s been sitting on this pathetic, plastic excuse for a sofa and why the nurses won’t tell him anything. He’s the wealthiest, most powerful person for hundreds of miles and he owns everything in this town, including this damn hospital! He’s the Once-ler and he doesn’t like waiting, because he’s never had to…this isn’t what he was designed for.
The Once-ler was created out of greed and wealth and the need to take charge; he doesn’t know what to do in this situation. He doesn’t know how to be powerless. He feels something cold and horrible settle in his stomach when he thinks about why they aren’t telling him anything; why nurses and attendants scurry past as quickly as they can and avoid looking at him. They are scared. “None of them want tell me he is dead,” the Once-ler whispers to himself.
No. No, Oncie isn’t dead…the Once-ler would know or feel it or some bullshit like that. He doesn’t know how this works, Oncie is – was, no – IS the emotionally feely one. Even then, Oncie doesn’t really understand why there’s two of him running around and the Once-ler never really cared about the why. All he cares about is taking care of the business, biggering, and, of course, screwing with his younger self. The Once-ler especially likes the last part of his job description and all of its metaphorical and literal implications. But that is exactly why he is in this situation now, sitting in a hospital waiting to see if he has killed himself.
The Once-ler shies away from that train of thought; not ready to deal with the consequences just yet. “How did I fuck up this badly,” he murmurs to himself. The Once-ler realizes how deranged he must look – muttering to himself, covered in blood, and glaring at anyone who passes his little private waiting area. He is alone in this little alcove, with its plastic chairs and couches and dull walls with duller paintings that he supposes are meant to be inspirational or soothing or some shit. They don’t help, and he feels his mind start to wander to earlier in the day in another fruitless attempt to figure out when things slipped out of his control.
The Once-ler looks down again at the blood on his gloved hands and asks the empty chairs, “When did I let the monster take the reins?”
Welcome to the biggest Oncest fanfiction collection! Here we feature the best Oncest fanfiction in the Internet from various sites such as fanfiction.net and deviantart.com We never take credit for these stories except those we made ourselves. Our goal is to satisfy your inner fan-girl for this fandom that never fails to leave us in love. We try to make the blog better everyday, and we also update on-going fanfiction as soon as possible. So what are you waiting for? Choose stories from the Fluffy Oncest category, Smut/Rated M category, By Yours Truly category, and Multi-Chapter category; sit back and let the magic happen!
-Greedler and Oncie
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