Hope you like this chapter! I have both Branch and Poppy's POVs in this one because I wasn't sure if it was long enough for an entire chapter. Please read and review (constructive criticism is fine, but no flames). And thank you for your support on my previous chapters and other stories! :)
" . . . well, Princess wants a piggyback ride."
Branch nearly choked on his tongue in surprise. Some of those images his answers brought to him came flooding back: the many memories of Poppy sitting on his shoulders as he aimlessly walked around the village while she played with his hair, and the heartbreaking image of her doing the same with Cliff.
So much had surprised him in the last five minutes: Cliff ambushing him and screaming in his face, then trying to attack him; Poppy revealing she'd heard "enough" of the argument; Poppy breaking up with Cliff (breaking up with him, of all things!); Cliff leaving like a punished puppy; Poppy alone with him for the first time in three years; Poppy finally sparking carefully monitored conversation between the two of them . . . but he hadn't expected her to ask him to ride on his shoulders, at least not this soon.
So he was silent at first, but then he saw her bite her lip. He knew that meant she was stressed—how could he not?—and realized what she must be thinking.
He really didn't think it was too soon for that, not when all he really wanted right now was to grab her and kiss that smirk off her face. He was just surprised that she was being forward enough to ask for it.
"Sure, why not?" he said to put her at ease. He turned around and dropped to his knees. He could feel her approaching, then she climbed onto his shoulders. They'd done this hundreds of times, and even if it hadn't happened in three years, it was muscle memory for both of them. She climbed on—he stood up—she crossed her legs over his chest—he grabbed her ankles—she swept back his hair—she rested her forearms on his hairline—and they were off.
"Where are we going?"
"Umm . . ." She pointed to their left. "That way."
"Okay." They walked in silence for a little ways—this silence much more comfortable than before. After a couple of minutes, he felt Poppy's arms dig into his hair and felt her chin rest on his hairline.
"I missed you, Branch," she said quietly, as close to nuzzling into him as she could get.
Branch took a deep breath—or maybe it was more of a relaxed sigh—and let himself believe that she really meant it. "I missed you too, Poppy." He gently squeezed her ankles to let her know just how true it was.
"I told myself I didn't, but I missed you the whole time," she went on, her voice still quiet, her chin still bumping against his forehead as she talked. "I even got mad at my dad every time he brought you up, just because I was afraid I'd start missing you again."
"I tried to never think about you. I tried to convince myself I loved my life and I didn't need anything else," he shared, and as soon as he did, all those pent-up feelings started to ease. Poetry could only absorb some of the pain, after all.
Only Poppy could help with the rest.
"I wouldn't let myself think about how why I was still gray, if I loved my life so much," he continued. "Because if I did, I'd only start thinking about you, and.." He trailed off. She understood.
"Branch . . ." She paused for a long moment. When she spoke again, her voice was accented with tears, with heartfelt emotion. "Why do we do this to each other?"
"I . . . I don't know," he said, faltering, trying not to cry himself. "I love you."
The first time in three years he'd spoken those words. He began to panic when he heard nothing from her, not even the sound of her sniffles.
Then she spoke again: "Branch, can you put me down?"
"Okay." He grew cautious again, slowly rebuilding his walls. Had he been too forward? He couldn't tell. "Put me down" could be either a good or bad thing, or neutral.
Branch approached a tree trunk and knelt down, allowing her to climb off. She walked over and sat at the base of the trunk, looking up at him expectantly.
He was flooded with relief. She still wants me with her.
The blue Troll sat against the tree trunk next to her. She looked at him, tears welling in those beautiful magenta eyes of hers. Then she hugged him, tight, and whispered, "I love you too, Branch."
He hugged her back, holding her tight as she was holding him. "Poppy . . ." Her name was spoken just so he could say it, just so he could say it without hurt or shame or that feeling that he'd failed her.
"Branch," she returned, presumably for the same reason. Suddenly she pulled back, enough to look him in the eyes but not far. She cautiously placed a hand on his shoulder, watching his face for a reaction.
He looked her right in the eyes, inviting her to continue.
Slowly she slid her other hand up his arm, constantly glancing up at him like she was worried his reaction would change.
It never did.
She continued when that hand reached his other shoulder, bringing her whole body closer to his so that she could keep her arms around his neck. Automatically, he put his hands on her waist and pulled her even closer.
Poppy's eyes grew half-lidded as her head slowly drew nearer to his. Her pink lips reached for his—unlike they had earlier, which only made it that much better. Branch let his eyelids drop closed and he kissed her like he had that day three years ago, the day when they both agreed it'd be better to end their relationship . . . but it had done neither of them any good.
The young queen pulled back and stared at him. He just stared back at her owlishly, unable to find words for what had just happened.
"Why was that as hard as it was the first time?" she finally said, a little breathily, her eyes still wide.
Branch couldn't help but laugh. "Doesn't have to be hard anymore." He dived back in for a second kiss.
Poppy kissed him back passionately. This hadn't happened in so long, Branch found himself savoring every moment of it.
When they finally pulled back, Branch asked, "Did you, uh, ever do this with Cliff?"
She gave him a really funny look. "You don't want me to answer that."
"No, not the kissing, I mean . . . did you ever ride around on his shoulders and just talk or enjoy each other's company or . . . anything?"
"Oh, pfft, no way!" she said as though the idea was ridiculous, and now Branch was the one giving her a funny look.
"How did you have a relationship, then?" he asked in pure confusion.
"We went on dates! I'm not saying we didn't go on dates," she quickly amended. "I'm just saying, there's no way I'd ever be able to ride on Cliff's shoulders. He's not half as strong as you."
"Yeah, but he gets angry pretty quickly," Branch said, remembering how Cliff had attacked him.
Poppy shook her head. "I'm sorry about that, Branch. I had no idea he was like that, even after three years. I'm so glad Dad didn't let me marry him." She smiled sheepishly, a light blush coloring her cheeks. "'Course, now I'll never be able to look him in the eyes again. Ugh!"
He put his arms around her, pulling her into his lap. She rested her head on his chest. "Branch, if you're my true love . . . you have to be happy," she told him, gently tapping his arm.
Only now did he notice that he still hadn't turned blue. "That's okay. I may not look like it, but I'm perfectly content right now," he said, hugging her slightly closer.
"I am too, but what about not-right-now? I want you to be happy."
"I . . ." She was getting determined. There was no point in arguing anymore, not when he wanted to be happy too.
"I will do anything to make you happy," she said. "Do you want to do something to Cliff?" She paused and an uncomfortable silence filled the air. Branch knew she was thinking that that might be a little premature; she hated hurting people.
"I can't make you do that. Besides, I doubt encouraging my hate for Cliff is gonna help me."
Poppy laughed a little, shaking endearingly in his arms. "Well, um . . . I can kiss you till you turn blue."
"You're out of ideas." It wasn't a question.
She sighed, body slacking against him in defeat. "Yeah, I am."
"Poppy . . . how about something more . . . sentimental?"
"Like what?"
He raised an eyebrow at the top of her head. It was seriously taking her this long to figure it out? "Like maybe something that worked before. . ?"
She turned around and looked at him, breaking out of his grasp to give him a confused look. "Before? What are you talking about?"
He was silent.
Suddenly she locked eyes with him. "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
Branch smiled. "Yeah." He began to sing their song, "True Colors." Poppy joined in for her part soon enough, touching her hand to his and spreading his natural blue color through his body. When they touched, her own fuchsia shades started to glow softly, matching the glow of his colors.
The song was over before either of them knew it, and Poppy connected their lips tenderly the moment they stopped singing. She pulled back and dropped onto his chest again, leaning there, eyes closed, never more serene.
Branch held her in his arms, his grasp firm from behind her. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in her strawberry cotton candy scent, just as peaceful as her.
He wasn't sure how much later it was when he felt Poppy's breathing become heavy, but he was suddenly tired, too. He pulled her a little closer, cuddling into her, and gave way to sleep just like she had.
Sunset.
That was the first thing Poppy noticed when she opened her eyes.
She must've fallen asleep, she thought, but where was she? In her sleep-induced daze, she had no idea why she was in the forest.
So the forest was the second thing she noticed. The third? Someone's arms around her, someone who she was leaning into relaxedly.
I must be on a date with Cliff, she thought, yawning quietly. He was holding her so protectively, like he would do anything not to see her get hurt. He must've turned into a really good boyfriend recently, because she couldn't remember him ever holding her this lovingly. Only Branch had ever—
Oh my holy realization.
Branch.
She rubbed her eyes as the events of the day came back to her and carefully turned up to look at him. He was still sleeping, his face the most peaceful she'd ever seen it, yet he was still holding her in his grasp like he would sacrifice anything for her safety. She loved him so much.
She could admit that now.
Poppy hadn't been acquainted with "shyness" until she'd broken up with Branch. It had been nature to, if she liked someone, just go up and kiss him without a second thought.
But then she'd started dating Cliff.
She'd been Cliff's girlfriend. And she loved him. But whenever someone said the name Branch, it was hard to pin down all those feelings, the feelings with such mixed messages. Parts of her said walk up and kiss him; part of her told her she couldn't because he was Branch and she was Poppy and they didn't just swallow their pride in front of one another, and part of her told her she couldn't because she belonged to Cliff.
Now she knew that she'd belonged to him as more of a pet than a partner.
But Branch was different.
Poppy lifted a hand and gently caressed his peaceful, sleeping face. She remembered this. Remembered where each of his glitter freckles was, the way they shined just a little brighter when his spirits were lifted. Remembered the way his ears pointed at their tips, pointed just a little more than most Trolls' ears. Remembered—
Suddenly he stirred and she jumped, jostling his arms around her—which, of course, woke him up. "Poppy?" he asked, eyes flying open and locking with hers in muddled confusion. "What are you doing here?"
She leaned forward and kissed his lips gently. "Give it a minute; you'll remember."
He blinked at her a couple of times, and she swore she could see the cloud lift from his mind right then. He hugged her closer to him and she laughed happily, hugging him back.
They pulled back and Poppy said, "We were asleep for a while. The sun's already setting. What do you want to do now?"
"How tired are you?"
As if on cue, she yawned, completely by accident. "Honestly? Even though I slept for more than half the day, I'm really tired. Tomorrow I'll be better. If you want to stay up, though, I'm sure I can find some sugar to eat somewhere. Or maybe you need some sleep? I can go home if that's the case."
He shook his head. "Poppy, if you sleep for more than half the day and you're still tired, I'm not going to make you get high on sugar to stay up with me. Why would I even want that anyway? You need to get some sleep."
She gave him an expectant look, clearly waiting for him to go on.
"Um, that's it," he said awkwardly, unsure why she was giving him that look.
"Really? You aren't gonna say that you need to get some sleep?"
"Well, I guess maybe I do, but I'm more concerned about you getting the sleep you need. Why?"
"It's just, whenever we split for the night, Cliff would always end the conversation by saying, 'Listen, Poppy, I need to get some sleep.'"
"He wouldn't say anything about you?"
She shook her head.
He drew her into his arms for the thousandth time, but she didn't protest. "I'm so sorry."
"I'm sorry I left you. Cliff is a jerk."
"Will you get mad if I agree with you?"
She smiled. "For once, no. Agree all you like."
"Well then, I agree with you." He kissed her forehead. "I do think you need some rest, though. You've had a tiring day."
Poppy nodded. She wanted to stay here and fall asleep in his arms again, but she couldn't do that to him. No matter what he pretended, it had been a tiring day for him too, and she wasn't going to keep him sitting here, holding her all night.
So she stood up and kissed him on the cheek. "'Night, Branch. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Goodnight, Poppy. I'll see you tomorrow too, probably when you get all your energy back and come to pound on my door at five in the morning."
"You know it!"
He kissed her on the cheek with a groan. "'Night, Poppy."
She turned away to go back to her pod. "'Night, Branch!"
As she walked, all she could think about was how well that had gone. She was so lucky to have been brave enough to break up with Cliff like that, and she was especially lucky that her time with Branch had gone well. They were (un)officially back together!
If she wasn't so tired, she'd be spinning and twirling and yelling it to the world.
Those thoughts melted to different thoughts when she passed her father's pod. She should probably go see him, tell him everything that happened today . . .
But she was too tired.
Tomorrow, she promised herself. Tomorrow she'd see her dad—tomorrow she'd tell her friends—tomorrow she'd talk with Cliff—and tonight, she would rest.
