Not Poppy

what should have been

What had he expected?

Twenty years on his own, you'd think he'd have let go of the idea that his brothers would do anything other than fight. It's not like Branch forgot what it was like being in a confined space with them. In fact, he probably remembers a little too clearly the memories of being young and small; looking up at the giant, glittery forms that made up his older brothers and wondering when they'd just stop yelling. When they'd notice his face falling and quiet down, tell him it's alright and make up so he could keep drawing them under rainbows and dragged out music notes.

Stupid. He's stupid for having gone along John Dory instead of going for Floyd himself. This whole round up mission was a phony waste of time.

Why did he? He should have known, why didn't he-?

"Branch!" Poppy's voice yells out through the wind, and it's really just the wash of his own spite souring her usually delightful presence that keeps him from stopping immediately, "wait!"

"Branch! Where are you going?"

"To go save Floyd. Alone." He responds, tilting his chin up, "I didn't need them growing up, and I don't need them now." He looks over his shoulder, already expecting to see Poppy slowing down at the realization that he wasn't sticking around for the band, only to do a double take when he sees her trailing after him. It sends a flash of warmth to his heart and, defensively, he forces his face forward to ask, "what're you doing?"

She practically sputters. "What do you mean - I'm coming with you!" She sounds offended when she says it, like the answer is obvious.

The tone makes him scoff. Since when has that been anyone's first choice? "Why bother? A-aren't you gonna leave me eventually anyway?" He wants to be aloof, to sound like he's mature enough to not still hurt over the little things like reality. But his voice wobbles, and his fight's gone out too much to wanna hear the answer from anyone else. "Everyone else does."

And like that, he hears the crunch of Poppy's feet padding on the slow silence. He hadn't noticed the noise before, it was easily white noise under his own thoughts, but it's absence comes at him like a confetti cannon to the gut.

Or maybe less violent. It's not that same shock of impact like it would've been if he was surprised. Maybe more like a stomach ache that's been forming the whole day from a bad breakfast, where he knew even before he had it that it was bad news and it only got worse as the hours went by.

His mind flashes to Poppy's excitement over seeing John Dory, her positivity drowning out his own discomfort. Her flippancy over his hint board (how were they supposed to use that?) until it was suddenly useful - how in sync with John those opinions were.

How well she got on with his brothers when he couldn't.

It's in her nature to help and see the best in others, he knows, and that's probably why it was so easy to go along with it when Poppy pushed him to join in with Dory instead of going after Floyd himself. He could chalk up her excitement and bulldozing to what it always is - her being her in the most infuriatingly kind way she always is and him being the bitter one who needs to be coaxed into seeing the light. She's right, he's wrong, and when he's not he still needs to be taught anew.

He doesn't blame her. Probably. But it hurts anyway, and he's mad he kind of forgot how quickly the trolls he loves could leave him. How quickly he started to hope Poppy wouldn't.

The contact jolts through him when Poppy grabs his hand. "I have been by your side since the moment we met. And you've been by mine." Poppy says it as sweetly, earnestly as she says everything, softened in a manner he knows is meant to be comforting, and it almost is before she continues, "let's give each other some credit here."

He feels guilty even as he does it, but the words are enough to have him ripping his hand away from her. Hurt crashes over her face but he can't stop himself once his voice claws it's way out of his throat, "I did! I, I do, I know you, Poppy, but you haven't been by my side."

"What are you talking about, Branch?"

"You're just like them! Since we've started this mission, you've been on their side!" He throws his hands up, and finds himself turning off to the side again because he doesn't think he can handle actually looking at her when he says it, "you guys don't see me - you keep telling me to be more open, but when I tried during Bridget's wedding, you didn't listen! You saw my brother and for some reason him being there was enough for me to not matter!"

"I told you they weren't my brothers anymore, and look! I was right! They want nothing to do with me." He gestures out in the direction of the van, and like his throat is trying to, belatedly, hold back the rest, his voice struggles to keep steady, "and look where we are now. In the middle of nowhere, the only brother I think would've actually come back is still trapped and everyone around me keeps acting like /I'm/ the crazy one for wanting to be taken seriously."

He kicks at snow, regretting it immediately when he's reminded of a baby troll throwing a tantrum, and stuffs his hands into his pockets with an aggreved sigh. Maybe he is. "Maybe I am." He says aloud, once a second of silence falls over and shame has takes its chance to claw at him because he just yelled at Poppy. "I. I'm sorry, I-"

He's stopped when he feels himself get tackled to the floor, the wind getting knocked out of him immediately in the form of a pained wheeze. "Arfgh- no waitwaitwait I'm sorry I'm -"

"I'm so sorry." Poppy says into his shoulder, voice muffled yet the words so, so loud in his ears.

Branch freezes. "Huh?" He lets out, around the same moment he realizes the arms squeezing keeping him down are circling him in a hug.

"I was so wrapped up in thinking about how much I wanted a sister," Poppy lifts her head, and Branch is forced to look her in the eyes, "I wanted fhat for you too. I thought - siblings had to be perfect."

"It's-"

"It's not okay!" She shakes her head, and even though her eyes look watery her eyebrows still manage to be furrowed into a determined glare. "You deserve to be listened to. I'm your girlfriend! I'm the person who should be listening to you! But I haven't." She pauses, eyes flitting away, then, without prompting, "they haven't been good brothers to you."

The sentence makes him both relax and tense all at once. It's a truth that feels more real to have said aloud by someone else. By Poppy, of all trolls, who's never said a bad thing about anyone who hasn't been a literal murderer. It hurts, but makes a knot in his stomach, one that tightened every time he got brushed off that day, loosen with the knowledge that it isn't just him holding petty grudges.

Branch is brought back to attention when Poppys gaze latches to his again. "You're not a baby."

"I know that." The words come out too relieved for the deadpan he tries to mask over his face.

"I want you to talk to me." Her face softens over, "I'm sorry I haven't been hearing you before, but. I get it now. Siblings aren't always gonna be on the same side. I mean, mine just kicked me out." She trails off, squinting, before going onward before Branch can comment. "And if there are sides, I'm choosing yours. No matter what."

He knows his eyes are wide open, but he can't bother with the idea of hiding the shock from his face because what?

This isn't how it works. Nobody sticks around. Nobody is on his side.

Except for Floyd.

He blinks, and finally, his arms wrap around Poppy to pull her back down into the hug, gripping the fabric of her blue dress like she might change her mind and leavr anyway.

Instead, she squeezes him impossibly tighter, and he can hear her hands digging through the snow beneath him just to do so.

Except for Poppy.

"Thank you." Branch says into her shoulder, his hands laxing out to rest on her back. She shakes her head in return.

"I'm sorry." She responds, and he'll have time to feel bad about how the words make his heart soar later.