Deeper Connections

It was okay to feel sad sometimes. It was OK to nurture the downs as much as the highs of the big rollercoaster of life. The sunny days would always be more enjoyable if they came after a rainy day.

A comforting hug was meaningful because it had a purpose other than hugging. It shared the feelings, warmed up the sadness, and restored the joy by showing the sad friend that they were loved even when they allowed themselves to feel depressed.

Biggie had done Poppy a big favor. With his surprising knowledge of sadness and how to deal with it by allowing it to be experienced in its entirety in an emotional-wrecking way, the tall blue troll showed the queen that hiding her feelings, and crying into her pillow wasn't a good alternative. She wouldn't be less queenly if she dropped a tear now or then.

And, the most critical point that he unintendedly illuminated for her, was the fact that she never realized that Branch had been through years of depressive thoughts without having someone to hug him. Not because he didn't want it, but because he wouldn't allow himself to care about his feelings. Feelings were in the way of practical matters. They were an obstruction to strategies to deal with predators. Also, his hardened feelings were a good way to shield him from showing vulnerability.

The melancholic dark green moss and the deep blue sky seemed to paint a cold atmosphere even for a warm spring day. The last tree to stand on the forest line shadowed a dark-haired troll who was sitting down, holding a scrapbook that was the only witness to his tears for hours.

The bitter sensation that he chose to isolate himself instead of seeking shelter in her arms made Poppy wonder if attacking the sadness until it was reduced to nothingness was the wrong approach.

Well, time to open up to new experiences.

Her fingers tightened around the picnic basket. Poppy took a deep breath and quickly stepped toward her unsuspecting boyfriend.

"Do you mind if I join you?" The queen noticed her boyfriend tensed a little when he realized she was there.

"No. It's fine." He quickly brushed a few tears and made sure his face wasn't stained. It pained her to notice that he was trying to mask his feelings. How long has he been doing that?

"Well," carefully watching him, Poppy set the basket down and unfolded the picnic blanket. "I brought food so we can stay here as long as you want."

"Oh," Branch noticed how big the basket was and his eyes seemed to grow wider at each item Poppy displayed in front of him. Pancakes, cupcakes, berries, ice cream pints, juice, and… "Is that wine?"

"Yes," She smiled guiltily. "I am planning on lowering my barriers and allowing myself to fully feel sad while reading that scrapbook." To show her point, she poured a glass of white wine and took a sip, "I may need some help doing that."

His chin dropped, completely taken aback at her brand new copy of The Farmer and the Hound.

"But you don't like feeling sad." Branch pointed out, still unbelieving her words.

"Nope," She popped her lips, "But looks like I still have a lot to learn."

The survivalist was still suspicious. He watched her as she sipped on the wine and turned on the first page, leaning against the tree trunk next to him. He chose to avoid anything that would alter his super-alert mind and opened the chocolate ice cream, digging in while watching her from the corner of his eyes.

He looked like he was expecting her to pop a cannon of glitter and say she was joking, but as the minutes passed and she progressed turning the pages, Branch understood that she was serious.

"Is this how you used to feel?" Poppy showed him a page where the farmer was sitting down playing with a stick, "so lonely and into your own mind that you fell out of sync with society?"

It was a good question. He did notice, sometimes when he was a teen, that what mattered to him wasn't important to other trolls. What he held dear which was living safely was overlooked by the loud tribe that lived in constant rejoicing. It was true that as Poppy got older things tended to get a bit louder than before.

"I confess I hadn't thought of it until I read that book." Yep, a single book spared him years of therapy (or self-analysis).

Poppy pouted and leaned on his shoulder. Her attention was back on the book and her lips were back on the wine. Branch sighed and took a glass for himself. To the hair with safety. If she was lowering her barriers, so was he.

In contrast to Poppy's darkening mood, the sun smiled generously at them, spreading the heat to the chilly shade of the tree. A beautiful bush of red roses spread out along the meadow, down the hills until it disappeared into a valley. A mountain with a white peak stood imponent in the distance, watching them breeze out spurs of feelings that they didn't fully comprehend.

"What if…" the queen hiccuped, hiding a sob behind the silly sound, but knowing that Branch caught her sadness. She closed the book, raising her eyes to the horizon. "What if the hound never really existed? What if it is a metaphor for the farmer's survival instinct?"

"A metaphor?"

"As in… the farmer had no one to talk to until he was forced to come out of his isolation." She turned to face him, half-lidded and obviously tipsy. "And once he did, the hound disappeared… because he had no reason to exist anymore."

"Because the farmer could count on his new friends…"

"He wasn't alone anymore." Poppy concentrated on Branch's vest. She adjusted the leaves to have something to busy herself with as she pondered deeply about the story. "You're not alone anymore."

She hugged him in a different and paralyzing way. Poppy, having no boundaries when her brain was marinating on alcohol, slid her hands, wrapping her arms around him from under his vest, feeling his torso, and burying her nose in his neck.

Branch couldn't respond appropriately.

The survivalist felt his stomach tightening. The feeling of her arms so intimately close skyrocketed his self-doubt thoughts. Did he shower? Was he sweaty? Did he forget to take the nunchucks out of his hair or should he check before she noticed he was carrying weapons around?

He stiffened at the feeling of her eyelashes brushing against the skin of his neck. Such delicate touch and his metabolism seemed to succumb to the wine he had ingested. His joints felt oddly tingly.

Branch looked down at her shoulder. Just a piece of flesh peeked out before it disappeared under a thick layer of a camouflaged vest. He felt lightheaded. In a blink, he saw it again. The gray queen seemed to be a memory of something that never happened. A small eye rub and she was back, brightly pink as ever. A bit sad with the book, true, but dealing with it very well.

"When I went to the Funk Tribe…" he stopped when he felt her eyes open. "I was invited to take a look at alternative universes to see how much we were meant to be."

Branch had no idea why he was speaking of it. His tongue felt loose because of the drink. He couldn't hold his liquor to save his life. Or to protect a secret.

"When I was about to start my search I was stopped, by myself… from the future."

Poppy disentangled herself from him, searching for any sign that he was joking. Her smile - believing in his words or not - was there.

"What?"

"I don't know, but before I could explore I showed up and… stopped myself?" Wow, that sounded weird. "I said… er… future me said you'd suffer the consequences of that so I… didn't go."

"Wow…" Poppy blinked a couple of times. She turned to the glass of wine again. "It must have been serious if you went through the trouble of time-traveling to stop yourself."

The clouds started to show up in the sky. The hot day seemed to accelerate the condensation process and the sun started to have trouble looking down on them. The loud rumbles threatened to shower them with a storm any minute.

"I've been wondering if it may happen eventually. Me hurting you, I mean. We said once we're too different from each other."

"And I said I love our differences." Poppy quickly answered, crinkling her nose in a rare display of annoyance. "I love learning from you."

"I understand…" but he wasn't convinced that he wouldn't hurt Poppy's feelings eventually. He wondered if he was the right guy for her, after all, she was the bubbly queen and he was the grumpy troll who contrasted her mood most of the time.

"I love you too much to stay at a safe distance to protect myself from hypothetical heartbreaks." Poppy suddenly said, bringing his attention back to her. "Besides, I know you're the kindest troll ever. If there's a place my feelings are safe it's beside you."

His throat tightened. Poppy blindly trusted him. Branch licked his lips, trying to distract himself from the overwhelming sensation that he was so full of love that it was about to overflow.

"Which brings me to the subject I wanted to discuss." Poppy knelt up, leaning in front of him so he had nowhere else to focus his attention. "Stop holding back. I want to go through every single experience I can..." He blushed and was careful not to allow any skin contact. She was so close. What Poppy meant to say? "You're the troll I trust most in the world."

If Poppy meant to continue her speech he couldn't know. A bolt of lightning cracked down the valley, startling them. She jumped off him and quickly placed everything inside the picnic basket.

The thick raindrops were merciless. Branch turned his hair into an umbrella and grabbed the basket from Poppy's hand. They ran toward the village with the delightful laughs from the startled queen.

It was up to the survivalist to use his skills to notice it was impossible and unsafe to continue. The ground was covered with a layer of water that hid holes and stones. The slippery moss caused Poppy to nearly fall. They could even break a foot if they continued.

His hair was getting too heavy and the umbrella broke down, exposing them to the rain. Poppy seemed to giggle even louder but Branch had to think quickly. He didn't want any of them down with a cold in the next days so he focused on finding shelter.

The fabyrinth wasn't far.

He grabbed her hand firmly and pulled Poppy to the left, running from under the trees until he found the entrance of his magnificent work of wood and stucco.

"The fabyrinth!" Poppy squealed.

The lights were out, Branch noticed drying his hair. He looked up to see that the firebugs had left their nests, which didn't surprise him. During storms they tended to gather in a shelter to protect each other, leaving some rooms in the dark.

Thankfully there was still daylight peering through the ventilation shafts and small windows. A light blue atmosphere seemed to spread through the entrance hall, illuminating his girlfriend who was giving him a coy smile.

"What?" Branch gulped.

She stepped forward and he stepped back. He found his back pressed against the wall, cornered by a drenched girlfriend who seemed to be even more alluring. Dismayed at the sight of her, Branch tried to blame it on the amount of wine he had.

"You look cold," Poppy whispered, slipping his vest off his shoulders. It fell on the floor with a wet flop. "I'll warm you up."

She wasn't warm. Her dress was as wet as her hair, but he didn't mind the hug, or when she raised the tip of her toes to kiss him.

He vaguely noticed the taste of wine when she parted her lips. Mirroring her, he did the same, giving into the spectacular and toe-curling sensation of invading her mouth.

Poppy seemed to wait for him to take control. She wanted him not to hesitate. To harden his lips, to lower his hands. Her grip tightened on his hair.

A knot inside his stomach untied. She was so irresistibly warm that Branch found himself releasing his concerns and deepening the kiss like he wanted to devour her whole. Poppy sighed dreamily at his reaction, grinding against him and responding just as joyful.

The warmth spread through their bodies. Heat built up as the shyness melted away. One hand on her lower back pulled her closer and another on her neck held her in the perfect spot to explore her mouth as fully as possible.

Poppy's hand was sprawled on his chest, tickling him unintentionally. Her wet hair framed her face and dripped on their bodies.

Branch felt like cursing himself for waiting. How could he know tongue dancing could feel so mind-blowing?

He felt courageous when Poppy moaned against his lips. He could barely believe he could make her feel like that. In a pure instinctive move, he found the zipper of her dress and tentatively pulled it down a bit.

In response, one pink leg hooked on his hips.

Branch's eyes popped open.

What were they doing? They couldn't get carried away in a public place like that.

Poppy was drunk.

He wasn't in the best shape as well.

They had to stop.

She whined in disappointment when he pulled away. The queen buried her face in his neck, with hot puffs of air testing his decision.

Branch silently pulled the zipper back up and Poppy's feet were back on the ground.

He could feel her trembling.

"I think the rain has stopped." Branch said because he didn't know how else to ease the atmosphere.

"Yeah." Poppy moved back, leaving him feeling incredibly empty where she had been. "I should go back."

"Poppy…" he tried to come up with something to say, but she merely smiled at him before walking outside on her own.