Chapter Text
“You’re definitely sure about this?” Poppy asks for the second time today, it made Branch sigh, but also his soul feel warm at her worry and care for him.
“I’m sure Poppy, it’s just for a few days, my brothers want to catch up a bit and honestly… I’ve been wondering what they’ve all been up to as well.” He replies calmly, giving a soft smile to his girlfriend as he finishes. She mirrors a more toothy one back at him. “Okay because oh my gosh! I’ve been so excited to see you bond more with your brothers! It’s been amazing these last few weeks getting to know Viva and seeing her and dad reunite too!” Poppy smiles widely at all the happy memories that had already been made and promptly scrapbooked with love and glitter.
Branch softly takes one of Poppy’s vibrant paws into his own dull one, rubbing his thumb over the back of her paw, the action immediately makes Poppy settle down and lock eyes with the survivalist. “I’m… I'm really happy for you, finding Viva and all—getting to be a family again, I’m happy for you.” He says in a calm and genuine tone. Poppy was always so excited about new bonds and mended relationships, so seeing her family heal a bit after the scars the Bergens had left, he knew it meant everything in the world to her.
The Queen laid her free paw on top of Branch’s, cocking her head lightly to the side in a soft manner, Branch wasn't always the best or most comfortable with prolonged eye contact, but with Poppy it always felt easier. “And
I’m
happy for you and your brothers, it’s really big for you to take such a step and be open, I’m proud of you, Branch.” He smiles softly at this, leaning in and laying a soft kiss on her cheek in thanks.
“Update me later?” She asks, a rosy blush adoring her pink skin.
“Always.”
—————
“So this is the infamous Branch Bunker, nice digs.” Clay comments as the elevator platform makes its way to the bottom, at Branch’s main living space.
His older brothers had spent the previous night sleeping in a guest pod that the village had a couple of; going through old, yellowed pictures and other personal paraphernalia of Grandma Rosiepuff’s, that Branch had moved from the Troll-Tree after having the meetup scheduled.
Today was the first day they’d see how Branch had been living without them, properly.
“Thanks, man.” Branch replies to the praise, it had taken him thirteen exhausting years, so any compliments at the work was accepted without complaint or false modesty.
“Yeahhhh,”John Dory begins “dark and quiet, just like lil’ bro over here.” He says in a joking tone, elbowing Branch who closes his eyes and counts to ten in his head. “Ha ha, super funny.” Branch replies, in the driest tone possible.
“It really does look super nice, it feels homely.” Floyd is quick to add on, noticing his only younger brother’s irritation. Bruce nods in agreement as he takes in all the details, the father can appreciate a good home when he sees one, despite how atypical living in an underground survival bunker is. He’s heard passing comments between Floyd and Branch back in the day of a ‘hideout’ , but he never imagined it being more than a child's imagination from Branch.
Branch thanks them both, making sure Floyd can get properly off the platform with his cane.
“So uh, any of you want something to drink? I got water, tea and juice—oh, and coffee too.” The youngest offers, as he points them to where the couches and living room chairs are.
They all agree on tea, except Branch, who was definitely getting coffee to keep his sanity.
As he stands in the kitchen, a small wall separates them, so Branch is still very able to hear them talk and move about in the next room.
Immediately the older brothers begin to whisper among themself, not that Branch would imagine them to do anything else.
“You really dont think it’s… a bit creepy? Living underground, all alone?” He hears John Dory attempt to whisper. Branch rolls his eyes at that as he lets the water bubble to a boil in the kettle. The survivalist had come to terms and peace at being different from his fellow Pop Trolls, he liked being himself, finally.
Clay is the next to whisper; Branch’s sensitive ears easily pick up the sound. “I mean, maybe a bit, it’s definitely not safe if there’s a fire or flood,” Branch snorts quietly at that in amusement, “but it’s good for keeping wild animals out and he has a lot of food and gear, much more than a normal pod would let you have, so I think it’s cool.” The youngest is happy to hear Clay wasn't lying when he had commented on the bunker, when they first came down.
“It’s always good to have some extra food and entertainment in an emergency.” Bruce is the next to say, not seeming to care about whispering “I can appreciate preparedness, I’ve come to rely on it a lot with all the kids running amok back home.” He laughs a hearty laugh, remembering how he and Brandy had struggled a bit at first with routine and having what they needed in case of emergencies. Their kids really were just accident prone little balls of yarn and hair some days.
Branch mixes the tea and boiling water together, using the last amount for his own coffee. He waits a bit with the tray of mugs, wondering if Floyd will comment too.
He does not.
Branch picks up the tray and re-enters the living room. Bruce and Clay have sat themself together on the bigger couch, JD is alone on the smaller loveseat, Floyd has laid his glittery cane leaning up against the armrest of the lounge chair he’s in, his legs being up on the small ottoman in front of him, leaving the last lounge chair for Branch.
“Tea time~” Bruce sings in a nice higher pitch, nodding in thanks as Branch hands the drink to him. The other brothers follow suit in thanks as they’re given their hot drinks.
Branch plops down into his own seat, letting the heat of the mug warm his paws a bit with a content sigh.
There’s a weird silence for a couple of moments before John Dory decides to speak up first.
“So Branch, how did you manage to get a date with the queen?” Branch averts his eyes, with a faint heat to his cheeks.
“Well uh, she wasn't the Queen when we met or began dating, just the princess.” He answers honestly, he loves Poppy, loves talking about her and with her, but he was still awkward at talking about feely, soft stuff with other people. “‘Just the princess’ he says!” Bruce decides to add on with a big smile. “You're marrying into quite the family, B.”
“W-We aren’t married! Or even engaged!” Branch squeaks out. Did he want to marry Poppy? Yes. He’d have the words ‘I do.’ Out there before the officiant even got to the question. Still this was embarrassing.
“I’m sure you will be one day.” Floyd decides to say with a small smile, he’d seen the way the two had looked at each other when he saw them together, they seemed like a perfect match. It was so nice to see his baby brother grow into such a loving and strong man. He’d missed it, but the immediate older brother was determined to make up for all the lost time he could, if Branch would allow it.
Branch turns his head to Floyd, eyes a bit wide and cheeks red at the support. “I.. Thanks." He mutters, rubbing his dull thumb along the rim of the drink. “A-anyways, how did you and Brandy meet anyways, Bruce?” Branch decides to shift the topic and focus a bit. Not that he wasn't interested, he was! He’d love to hear more about his sister-in-law and his niece and nephews. Honestly, it was still kind of unbelieve his family had grown so much.
“Oh! Well it’s a pretty funny story, I’ll tell ya’!” The vacationer replied, a wide smile already growing on his face. “So I washed up on the island, right? Didn’t know up or down, but I knew I was safe when I saw an angel there in the sand—“
—————
Hours later it seemed everything was mostly well, sure, his three eldest brothers had thrown some semi-insulting comments out there pertaining to his ’baby sibling’ status, but Branch just brushed them off as well as he could.
Currently Floyd was talking about how Viva and Poppy had been the ones to bedazzle his walking cane, turning it from a neutral wooden brown, into a glittery eyesore with colorful stones lining the longest part, it was such a colorful mess and Floyd absolutely adored it. Branch couldn’t help but smirk, he liked it because Poppy had made it and Floyd used it, therefore he liked the glittery thing too.
As the good mood settled a bit Clay decided to speak up; he had been weirdly quiet the last twenty minutes. Occasionally during the night he’d be less vocal, Branch had gotten used to that, but this time a furrowed wrinkle in his brow had stayed the whole period of silence.
“Hey Branch, I have a question—about something you said back when we were still on our way to Mount Rageous.” Branch looked away from Floyd’s cane and to Clay, a questioning tilt to the youngest’ head. The others seemed to have picked up at the odd shift in tone too, as all eyes turned to Clay. “It’s been kinda in my head for a while, I’ve wanted to ask; just didn’t know when to bring it up. Now seems like it’s good, since we’re all finally in the same place.” Branch had a creeping feeling about what Clay was going to ask, it made his skin feel cold and hot at the same time. His paws tighten around his third cup of coffee.
“Grandma…” Clay begins, and just that word alone makes the survivalist’s heart speed up. “You said she got eaten, when did that happen? It seems like it’s been a few years since she doesn't have a pod in the village anymore.”
He doesn't know, none of them do, and it makes Branch’s teeth grind and his muscles tense instantly. They don’t know, it’s not their fault for being ignorant of the situation… but isn’t it?
They
left.
If they had stayed, at least he would still have them even after grandma was taken. It makes Branch want to throw his cup and flip the coffee table. To yell in their faces and spit on the ground they walk on. He doesn't though, he’s not sure why. He just tightens his paws more and more and more until the ceramic cracks the tiniest amount. Did Poppy make him this one? Shit, she might have. Branch tries to loosen his fingers but all it does is make him drop the drink altogether, he doesn't look down but he hears it shatter. It’s a mess. It’s all just a mess.
“Oh! I’ll get the broom, keep your feet off the floor there B!” Clay, ever vigilant, calls out as he gets the broom by the far wall. Branch’s wide eyes are just locked on the wooden coffee table, he knows the others are staring at him but he doesn't look back.
Clay sweeps broken parts of Poppy’s gift up and into the trash, it makes Branch’s heart clench and hurt even more. He feels guilty for breaking it. He feels furious at his brother for making him break it. They press his buttons in ways they don’t even know, the sheer stupidity of the whole situation makes him want to cry and laugh and scream.
There’s an ice cold paw that lays itself on Branch’s dull, blue arm. He knows it’s Floyd; his circulation had become bad after his imprisonment, giving him constantly cold paws and feet.
The cold and touch snaps him a bit out of his internal freak-out, making a sneer rip its way out of his tight-held teeth. Floyd pulls his paw away in surprise, eyes growing wide at the animalistic sound coming from his little brother.
“Are you okay, Branch?” He hears John pipe up from across from him, still sitting on the green loveseat. Branch looks up at him, satisfaction blooming the tiniest amount in Branch’s chest at the upset expression he’s wearing.
“Oh I’m great!” Branch says, voice hard and dripping with sarcasm (his old comfort.)
“You don’t… seem like it?” John continues, always wanting the last word no matter what, huh?
Branch springs to his feet, arms thrown out hard as he nearly hits the top of Floyd’s head. “Oh! Oh I don’t seem fine, hm? Well, maybe it’s because I’m not!” He yells at his brother, anger is an old and unhealthy friend and Branch has rarely backed down from inviting it in.
John Dory and Bruce both stand with Clay, Floyd remains sitting; clutching his cane tightly in one paw as he looks up at his angry brother.
“Hey man, there’s no need to yell. What’s wrong?” Bruce is the next to ask, his brows are furrowed and mouth turned to a frown.
What was wrong? Everything, everything with his brothers and their non-shared past. His two stolen decades of being Grey, his years and years with no music or joy, his life with no comfort of family. He’d been alone much longer than he’d even known his brothers. It felt like such a messed up thing to even realize now.
Who even are these people? Being around them right now makes his skin crawl.
Branch suppresses a shudder.
“You.” He just decides on, voice tight as if he’s about to cry. He won’t.
The four older trolls all feel their expressions fall at that.
Floyd reaches a paw out, but decides to think better of it. Clay then says “Branch… we really just want to help, It’s oka—“ “It’s not okay!” Branch harshly interrupts, making Floyd and Clay both flinch at the loud outburst.
“You’re just,” he groans in frustration and balls up his paws, “I don’t like talking about this; with you, it makes me so angry . You just—you don’t know anything!!” John steps forward towards Branch, it makes Branch hunch in on himself.
“Yelling at us doesn't help, so can’t you just—“ “John Dory…” Floyd is the one to interrupt this time, his face is neutral except for the slight furrow in his brow. He’s standing now, leaning some weight on the cane, his paw is clenched tightly around the handle.
“You're right, Branch.” Floyd says, his voice genuine and low. Branch turned his head in surprise at the words, an angry grimace still occupying his features and eyes red from unshed tears. “Us leaving hurt you, still hurts you… I know that and I’m sure they do too. I’ve been told what you guys argued about in Rhonda, last night in the pod.” Branch takes a shuddering breath, he wants to yell more, but more so he wants to hear what Floyd has to say.
Bruce rubs his nape with his paw awkwardly, his voice coming out unsure, “we do feel really bad about leaving you to be raised by grandma alone.” Branch shuts his eyes in frustration at the words. He wasn't raised by her. He only got a couple of years after they left before she was eaten. Still just a small trolling, when he was made a complete orphan.
“Y-yeah,” John begins, “we should have come back, we should have been there earlier.” He has a slight smile on his face, as if he’s unlocked some sort of insight into Branch and what he had going on inside of him.
His claws dig into the calloused palms of his paws. He needs to say something. He has to, it’s making him crazy hearing them apologize for something that’s not even the root of the issue. Just a bunch of halfhearted guesses based on whatever little things they could scrape together from tidbits of Branch’s life.
“Wait, guys. Give him a chance to breathe, yeah?” Floyd says, stopping Clay who had opened his mouth to say something next. “Branch… do you have something to say to us? We promise we’ll listen.” Floyd assures him, it makes Branch’s body untighten the tiniest amount. None of the brothers ever really fit the roles that were forced upon them, except Floyd; he’s always been more in tune and sensitive to the emotions of others.
Branch takes a breath, then another one and a third. He’s trying to reel his anger back, or else he’s sure he’ll say something he’ll definitely regret later.
“You..” he grows out harshly, then pausing for another breath as his paws clench and unclench. “You should’ve never left… I’ve been alone for so long—you don’t—you dont get it!” he yells, the others stay silent.
“She died, yeah, but it’s not recent.” There’s a sort of numbness to that statement. He’s come to peace with the fact his grandma has passed, it’s not his fault; he gets that now. No one is to blame for that tragedy than the Bergen Chef.
“She got taken, at
Trollstice.”
He spits out the name of the horrid holiday like it’s a bad taste in his mouth. The brothers felt their faces fall in pure shock, they all knew what that meant. Trollstice hasn't been a tradition for twenty-one years, so if she’s been dead for that long then…
“You’ve been alone for twenty-one years?!” John Dory exclaims, feeling dread pool in his stomach. Surely someone in the village took Branch in as a little trolling, surely. “Y-you stayed with someone in the village, right? Someone took you in? Right? Branch?” John knows he sounds panicked as he speaks, it’s not helpful, it’s not calming for anyone, but John is panicking. Every big-brother instinct in his body is screaming. “Of course someone took him in!” Bruce says, sounding like he’s calm and on top of it all, but the tense line in the shoulders betray him.
“Branch?” He hears Clay call out in a softer manner beside him, when the youngest looks at him, Clay is wearing—not quite a smile—but more of a somber look. He nods a slight bit, encouraging Branch to respond.
Branch feels his insides squirm uncomfortably, skin feeling cold and clammy yet hot at the same time. His Grey years were hard to talk about, even with someone he had become as close to as Poppy. It was painful and lonely and so,
so
quiet.
Branch began talking, before even having his brain properly notice, he was surprised his tongue was even co-operating with how heavy it felt in his mouth.
“I jumped from pod to pod… for two years. E-Everyone claimed they wanted to help, but I think it was more of an excuse to look good in front of the others; taking the Grey kid in and giving me a bed to sleep in for a few months or weeks…” the words came out bitter and bitten. He’d come to forgive the village and his people for how they had treated him, but he wouldn’t forget. Not even if he tried.
The four older brothers seemed to pale a few shades at hearing their brother was Grey for a period of time. To turn Grey was to lose all hope, joy and inner rhythm completely. The fact Branch was still here to tell the tale was unbelievable, and absolutely heartbreaking.
“G-Grey!?” Clay is the one to freak out this time, “are you okay? I mean I know your hair is darker, but I… I thought you had just been shifting hue! Like I used to… Wha—“ the green haired troll seemed at a loss for words. Mouth agape and paws slightly hanging in the air as if he wants to pull Branch in for a hug, but not sure if he would be allowed.
Floyd’s paw is shaking, where it’s wrapped tightly around the cane handle. He’s looking down in what seems like shame, as is John Dory. It’s sad and Branch feels bad for making his brothers upset, but also it’s weirdly cathartic. A tiny, hollow sort of joy for making his brothers hurt like they hurt him, unintentionally or otherwise.
“You were Grey for months?” Floyd questions, his voice coming out strained and breathless. The immediate older brother felt disgusted with himself, he’s been so sure grandma could take care of him. He supposed she had, but how the hell had none of them ever thought about what would happen during the yearly Trollstice?!
Branch looks to the ground, paws rubbing and fiddling with themselves in a way to release excess emotions. “Years, actually… twenty years.” It’s hollow and numb, and all the older brothers feel like it’s a hundred blades to their hearts at the same time.
How could they ever fix this?