Once-ler One Shot Collection

The Gift (Once-ler x Reader)

This is my first attempt at an xReader. I can't stand prompts in these style stories so I tried writing one without them. I trust the readers are smart enough to fill in their own imagery while reading through. Please feel free to give feedback because this was definitely out of my comfort zone.

It was a only few days ago that an eccentric guy came to town. The first time you saw him he had a rather odd looking scarf around his neck. He was in the middle of Greenville circle under the gazebo, which was well used in the summer time. It was late spring when you first saw him. The bright pink scarf around his neck contrasted the gray pants he wore. And it most definitely didn't fit in with his white button up shirt covered by a gray vest that matched the pants. And honestly his choice of a fedora made you giggle each time you saw him. He was tall, and just a little lanky, but those bright eyes captivated you every time you passed him. Over his first few days there you discovered he was selling something called a thneed. What is a thneed, exactly? You wondered that a fair number of times before realizing it was that odd looking scarf he wore. The taunts from the town people increased everyday. And the more he tried to sell it, the worse the crowd would get. Everyday you sat at a bench out of his line of view, but so you could see him. The grocer's sales increased as many lined up to throw produce at him.

What a waste of food.

You started feeling bad for him. And on the day he decided to give up, you felt just horrible for him. It didn't seem like he had any support. The day prior a young girl grabbed his guitar and smashed it. You scooped up the pieces of his guitar he stormed away from while the crowd dispersed. You took the pieces to a friend and though they protested you had them fix it for quite a fee. You assumed it was only because they knew it was his and no one wanted to hear the songs he wrote about his thneed. But today you watched people line up, tomatoes in hand, ready to humiliate him. The mule he brought with him seemed eager to eat the food. When one hit him square in the face you jumped off the bench you sat on.

"You know what?" you heard him exclaim, "I'm done with this."

He threw away his thneed and hurried out of town. There was a collective aw from the crowd as many still held tomatoes in their hands. Again you ran over and picked up what he discarded.

"You should just throw that thing out," one of the townsfolk said to you, "it's ugly and no one is ever going to buy his thneed."

For the first time you held it. The thneed was softer than you expected. He must have used a truffula tuft for it. Your eyes met with the townsperson as you frowned.

"He's just trying to sell something. You people don't have to be so mean," you said.

With the thneed in hand you took off opposite from the crowd. Some of them looked like they had some remorse for what they had done. You picked up the guitar from your friend and paid for the repairs. You carried both items back to your apartment. The keys juggled out of your pocket carefully trying not to drop any of his things. Once inside you set them down carefully by the door. After grabbing a pen and paper you ran into your bedroom and began to write. A letter inked it's way onto the paper. After several drafts and rewriting so it was just perfect, you sealed an envelope. You changed into a different outfit, something a little less frumpy than what you had been wearing. And with his guitar strapped around your shoulder and the thneed tied neatly around it you left the apartment. Some days people talked about him living just outside of town. They said he lived in something that was half tent half house. That would surely stand out in the forest. So you headed through town and into the forest. The sun was hanging lower in the sky and you hoped you would find this place before it got too dark. But it wasn't hard to find. There was a fresh set of footprints, and mule hoofprints, that led right to his place. Carefully, and quietly, you snuck to the door. Wouldn't he find what you've done rather odd? A person he had not even met fixed his belongings and returned them to him. With a careful tuck of the note between the strings the items carefully leaned next to the door. Your hand quickly met the door. Was it normal for a heart to beat so quickly?