The Last Drop

A/N – So, this is the chapter of The Naughty Tales that is safe to be posted in Tales of Trollstopia as well because there's absolutely nothing mature about it. It's also important to be posted here because this is the point where both storylines converge. So, for those who won't or can't read The Naughty Tales, you will understand what was going on and what made Branch realize he and Poppy were meant to be.

Fun fact: I wrote this about 8 months ago and I was holding until it was the right time to post. You can see from the art on IG that, yes, it was a loooong time ago. LOL.

Warning: angst ahead. Get some tissues.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Branch's hand was shaking and he needed to pay attention not to drop the remote that shifted through the alternative universes. King Quincy had been right. He needed to go through that trip to see and to understand his relationship with Poppy better. But Queen Essence had also been right; the other universes were more than mere entertainment and subjects to be studied. It was their lives, and a chain of events conspired to lead both Poppy and Branch to end up together.

They seemed to need each other, no matter if they took different paths in life. It was stronger than them.

The answer he needed was delivered on a silver plate. Perhaps a relationship wasn't something easy, but they didn't need anybody else to feel complete.

His breathing was wavering and breaking. It was like his heart couldn't take more emotions and painfully thundered against his lungs, causing them to fail to complete a full exhale.

One last universe shifted in front of his eyes. Branch was going to go away; he didn't need any more proof than he had already had. It was time to find his girlfriend, to apologize for feeling uncertain about their relationship and, finally, to hold her and pour out his feelings, to make her understand his undying love and devotion.

But before he turned away, he caught a glimpse of the last universe and he immediately recognized what the alternative Branch was doing.

Branch was, yet again, going through the invitations Poppy had delivered over the years. He decided he'd throw them away. Every time he passed by the shelf on the wall - where he had hidden them - he'd feel like stopping and popping them open. The colorful papers and neatly cut characters would capture his attention for hours.

He could imagine the trouble Poppy went through to make them. He even knew the pattern of the glue sticks she used. Right-handed, she'd circle the back of the characters clockwise and then stick them in the glittery paper.

She had given him hope. Now that the Bergens and Trolls lived in harmony he thought he could be happy. He even got his colors back for a few days and he sang and smiled.

It felt good to smile for a while.

But at night, when his bed felt too cold and the wind was his only companion, the thoughts ran through the familiar rational and unfeeling path. He was used to grayness and the colors required a daily effort.

He needed to remember to be happy so it wasn't natural to him like it was to the other trolls. It made him exhausted to go out, talk to them and often he caught himself thinking what was the point of changing himself.

Poppy noticed he was falling back into his usual colorless self. Branch had allowed her to visit and, often, she'd bring him a basket full of cupcakes and share some tea. It was easy talking to her and he enjoyed watching the way her glittery freckles sparked when she laughed. He also noticed he had the gift of taking that smile away.

It was like a pattern: she'd tell him something funny, they would laugh and, while he did try to follow her bright humor, he'd make a comment that would totally ruin the moment, causing her lips to fall and her mind to turn to the cold reality that he pointed out.

Then he decided to lock the bunker.

He couldn't continue making her sad. She was the queen now and she needed her blind positivity to rule.

The first time she tried to visit and he wouldn't open the door was hard and when it completed a month of isolation, she allowed herself to cry on his door, banging and begging him to open it up for her. It only made him realize that, indeed, he didn't do her any good. His security camera captured the moment she arrived during midmorning and sobbed until nightfall.

She would have stayed there if Biggie hadn't arrived to take her away.

That scene repeated every single day for three years. Branch would watch her through the screen. It wasn't every day she'd cry. There were days when she'd sit there and tell him jokes or talk about the village or how she handled an issue with the villagers. Most of the time it would be just like that. She'd sit down and scrapbook while she talked nonstop, as if he was right there by her side.

He was there… only a couple of feet underground. He'd sit close to the trapdoor so he'd hear her voice. Sometimes he had the impression she could feel he was near, but his silence never confirmed it.

Last year he noticed she'd come to watch the sunset on top of the rock next to the trapdoor. Branch noticed Poppy's steps had become lighter, quieter and she'd drag herself forward as if simply carrying the weight of her body was difficult. She wouldn't talk as much and her bright pink colors had faded to a pastel tone.

She announced her best friends had been worried about her constant visits. They had said she was torturing herself and, worse, pushing Branch's buttons when all he wanted was to be left alone. It pained him to hear her say that because it wasn't completely true; he enjoyed her visits, but he was the one who didn't do her any good.

Branch was glad someone had opened her eyes and he hoped she'd go away to spare her happiness. It would hurt him immensely not to hear from her as often, but he'd have the comfortable knowledge that it was for the greater good.

But she didn't stop visiting him. Every day, at the 18th hug time punctually, she'd be there, telling him about her day. From the screen he noticed her colors were bright again and it provided him with emotional relief.

Then one day she skipped a visit. Branch never thought the lack of her presence by his door would drive him over the edge with madness. Once or twice he tried to open the door, but he decided against it a fraction of a second before touching the door handle. He had spent that night walking around, punching walls and nervously biting the tips of his fingers.

Poppy was there the next morning. The dark circles under her eyes made him realize she hadn't had any sleep either. He wanted to hug her, ask what was wrong and caress her hair until she fell asleep in his arms.

But he didn't.

The young queen revealed she had been given a deadline. She was supposed to marry and provide an heir to the village. Apparently, she wasn't doing a good job while she was obsessing over Branch all day. So, in a meeting where Poppy couldn't voice her wishes it was decided that she'd marry the most handsome bachelor troll in the village.

Branch could have died when he heard her saying it. She sounded heartbroken. She sounded like she had failed.

But she still had her colors, Branch assured himself, she'd be so much happy with a family.

"You're the one I truly love, Branch…"

He felt lost then. His body went stiff like a stone and an internal anguish threatened to make him curl with the taste of bile rising to his lips. He couldn't have her loving him, not when he was a waste of space, not when he was good for nothing.

"But they say I can't make you love me… or even find me agreeable enough to want to spend time with me." Poppy's voice wavered and his body felt heavy with guilt.

She left that night and returned for a brief visit like she did every day. She tried to sound cheerful, but Branch knew when she was faking her happiness. Her voice sounded forceful and she wouldn't move so much.

It was time to burn the invitations, he figured. She'd marry and there was no rational point in staying with objects that would make him crave for her touch. She'd belong to someone else.

"Branch?" He gasped when he heard her calling him many hours before her regular visit time. Quickly he turned on the screen of the surveillance camera and froze at the sight before him.

Poppy had just dropped on her knees, wearing the most breathtaking wedding dress. Her sparkling pink skin contrasted with the white fabric and the bodice revealed her petite shape in a way he had never seen before.

"It's the last time I'm coming here." She gasped, turning her head up to watch the clouds go by on the blue sky. Tears streamed down her face, carrying the mascara and pink paint on the way. "I really wish you'd rescue me; you know…" She sobbed, avoiding looking down, as if staring at the trapdoor was the same as looking into his stern eyes full of reproachful remarks. "I totally understand you don't want me."

Branch stood up, in panic, and ran towards the trapdoor, climbing on the elevator and wishing it would go faster. It became difficult to breathe.

But at the same time his heart wished he could open the door and hug her and tell her to be his, he would feel the cold and dark vines of reality slowly destroying his resolution.

When he finally arrived at the trapdoor, he just sat down and hid his face on his knees.

He couldn't let her in.

"I guess this is goodbye."

He heard her standing up and walking away. He didn't move for a long time. He even thought he might have fallen asleep while hugging his legs, or perhaps he was just too deep into his own darkness to realize he wasn't exactly conscious.

Branch slept there that night, completely unable to move. The light barely penetrated the bunker through the small cracks on the trapdoor. The world outside seemed so vast and so beautiful, so full of life and so cruel at the same time.

"Branch?" His eyelids were heavy. It felt like they were full of sand and they hurt when he tried to blink them open. He curled to the side, feeling his body aching from spending the night on the cold and hard floor. "I don't think you deserve to know…" Biggie's voice continued from outside, "but Poppy would have liked that we at least informed you about her passing."

His throat was too dry to even ask if it was a cruel joke. Poppy had been there hours before and she was getting married.

How long had it been since Branch actually talked? For some reason his voice didn't seem to come out anymore.

"She never showed up at the wedding." Biggie explained, looking down at the green floor and feeling like an idiot. "She fooled us all. We'd have known something was off if she wasn't painting her body pink, you know."

Branch had never felt so small. He had watched her day after day through the screen and he never once thought she actually had a problem.

"We found her among the daisies this morning."

The floor didn't feel cold anymore. Branch moved his hand in front of his face, trying to feel his fingers… but apparently, he was too numb.

The wormhole button fell on the floor. Branch shook his head and took a couple of steps back. Unblinkingly.

He had reached it.

It was the point where he couldn't take anymore. With shaking hands, he put the tablet aside and ran towards the exit, feeling suffocated with the intensity of that last reality.