Maybe This is Enough 𓇚 The Onceler x Jon Arbuckle 𓇚

Fourteen

.𓇗.

𓋇 ONCE'S POV 𓋇

"Once, you need to get your head out of the clouds." My mother sneered, her normally syrupy tone sharpening to sourness, "this thing of yours is never going to work out."

"But that's not true mom—! I-I've been working on this for so long—I can—"

She cut me off with a quick and sharp wave of her hand, wine-red stiletto nails glinting like blood under the sun. Her brows were knit together tightly, engraving a look of what I could only do scribe as distant onto her features like carvings on a stone tablet. I gulped down my saliva, nearly choking myself on my own hurt pride.

"Honey, this is never going to work. You're better off just sticking to the vineyard."

"What? Just plucking grapes?"

"Mhmm," she confirmed, brows raised and scrutinizing eyes boring straight into my soul, igniting the familiar biting burn of embarrassment to crawl over my skin and melt it off my bones. "That's about all you're good for."

"But—"

"You mess up everything you try, Onceler. Just stick to something that's difficult to mess up. Like grape picking."

She skirted around my side, shooting me a look that had grown oh so familiar. Yet, no matter how many times I was placed under the scrutiny of her burning hawk eyes, the sting never went away. It never lost its potency. I swallowed my saliva, an action which irritated the aching lump that had lodged itself in my throat. My skin felt like it was on fire, burning under a gasoline spill of shame.

"Once?"

A familiar voice startled me out of my memory walk through. I swallowed, slightly losing my balance as the sudden shift back to reality disoriented me and left me feeling dizzy without being spun. I felt a hand clasp itself around my shoulder, the feeling startling me further. I nearly choked on my own saliva as I turned around to face Jon.

"Are you okay. . .?" He asked, his tone soft with me as always.

I was silent for a moment, giving my heart some time to slow down from its session of unhealthily rapid beating. I let a clattering breath spill out of my parted lips, managing a slow nod.

"Yeah— I'm fine. I was just. . . thinking."

Jon watched me for a moment, and I suddenly felt like his soft eyes could see right through me, like an X-ray to my soul. Slowly, he took his hand off my shoulder. Strangely, I found it feeling particularly cold upon the absence of his touch's warmth.

"If you say so. . ." Jon drawled, not sounding overly convinced.

I was about to let my shoulders slump in relief, but Jon's next words startled me quickly from that state.

"I think your family is pulling up. The animals are freaking out," He informed me, an airy chuckle trailing along the tail-end of his words.

My breath caught in my lungs, stalled before it could spill from my lips. I couldn't deny the nerves that shook me to the core of my soul. But, I had to remind myself that before long, all would be well. The thneed had already received its first taste of success, a taste so sweet and full of hope. Perhaps maybe, maybe it would be enough to convince them that my worth and abilities extended beyond a vineyard tender, a measly grape picker.