Struggle

A/N - I slightly mentioned boys problems at the fist scene, so... I advice you to skip it if you're not comfortable with it. It is still T rated :)

Branch couldn't sleep. He sat up in bed after hours of turning from one side to another, uselessly trying all the tricks he knew to at least try to grab a wink of well-deserved rest after a whole day helping Poppy with the ridiculous amount of parties they needed to attend to.

He rubbed his eyes, already imagining his queen would probably be worried when he showed up with blood-shot eyes the next day. Perhaps a cup of warm tea would help him to relax and to calm his thoughts down.

The survivalist moved to the edge of the bed, looking at the ground for his slippers so he could go to the kitchen, but he found only one foot laying there. Rolling his eyes, he kneeled on the floor, thinking that perhaps he had accidentally kicked it under the bed like he had done a few times before.

But it wasn't there.

Frowning in puzzlement, Branch sat up again and found the missing slipper hanging from one daring pink finger. Gasping, Branch fell backwards.

Poppy hadn't stayed that night. She was sleeping peacefully in her pod.

His blood seemed to grow cold. Branch's eyes ran from the pink finger, to the tattooed forearm, to the red heart with spikes on the pink shoulder that was covered with magenta and black hair.

She grinned while he paled.

"You can't run from me." Rock Poppy said, standing on the bed. Her jeans skirt fell on her feet and she quickly flung the black shirt off.

"What is happening?" Branch stuttered. His thoughts were running wild. Did Rock Poppy from the other dimension seek him out? And how did she find him? With his peripheral vision, Branch calculated how long it would take for him to run out of the bedroom and towards the exit before she caught up with him.

"My sweet- sweet - lover boy," Poppy's voice dripped with honey. Branch didn't notice that while she distracted him with her strip show, her hair was already circling him, like a snake, waiting for the right time to spring and wrap around his arms and legs. "You can't run from me this time."

"Poppy, stop!" Branch yelled, struggling against her hair, while she pulled him on the bed again.

Rock Poppy didn't seem to listen to him, instead, she crawled towards him, inching forward until their lips were about to touch.

"STOP!" Branch sat down, drenched with sweat. His alarmed firebugs immediately woke up, turning on the lights.

In confusion, the survivalist looked around, making sure it was another dream. The rush of adrenalin subsided when he finally understood that he was alone. His whole body trembled, from fright and from the damp clothes.

He was feeling too cold to go back to bed the way he was, so he stood up, cursing in silence, while he undressed from his wet pajamas. He was leaving a fresh pair of pants and shirt close because the stupid dream was becoming frequent.

Tired, upset and with a tingling feeling on his body, Branch looked down. He stopped breathing when he realized he had liked the dream at some point. Weak knees followed a wave of short breathing. The survivalist had to support himself using the wardrobe to avoid falling down. His throat seemed to constrict, making it painful to take the air in. The unavoidable panic attack that he had known during his teen years grasped his body while his dark thoughts ran wildly in his mind like they were on short circuit.

The best medicine when he was panicking was to wait until he was exhausted, struggling to survive. Hair, he had a feeling an anxiety of that magnitude could kill him one day, but he waited, gasping for gulps of air that managed to poorly fill his lungs. Minutes in that agony felt like hours, but finally his thoughts seemed to calm down and shortly, the tightness in his chest came undone.

Sitting with his naked butt on the floor, seeing in the mirror the reflection of his pale and wet body, looking like it had been under the shower, Branch could only think of Poppy.

He thanked Hair she hadn't stayed the night. Even in her own bedroom she would have heard the commotion he had caused in his own room.

It was unforgivable. It was unacceptable that he would have that kind of manly reaction from such a horrid dream.

The guilty, even if somewhat irrational, for deep down liking the dream made his insides churn. It didn't take long until he was emptying his stomach in the toilet.

Poppy deserved a better boyfriend.

He still hadn't told her about his accidental meeting with her rock version. He hadn't had the courage to bring the subject up.

Branch feared he would ruin everything, break her heart and make her suffer.

'Get a grip, you're better than this' he told himself.

Mixed thoughts whispered in a deafening curtain:

'Tell her the truth'

'Hold it until you can control it.'

'Be reasonable, it's just a dream and it's perfectly normal for a healthy troll.'

'Control the dream.'

'Control the nightmares'

'Keep Poppy away from the bunker.'

'She can't know.'

'Control yourself so you can be a better troll.'

'Be the boyfriend she deserves.'

'Tell her the TRUTH'.

Days passed and Branch focused on a new project. He couldn't count on anyone but himself to stop the nightmares and no, he was not looking for doctors. Therapy sounded amazing, but it meant he would have to open up to another living troll. That was something he wasn't willing to do, especially when the main subject was Poppy.

How would the therapist take it when he revealed he wasn't completely faithful to their queen? The duty to protect the tribe's leader would come before his need for treatment wouldn't it? It was a matter of priorities.

So, the survivalist did what he did best: he isolated himself and worked his way around the obstacles to solve his problem by himself. The library was like a second home these days and he piled up every book about subconscious, about nightmares, inconscient messages, interpretation of dreams, dream psychology and… even a book about Cloudmas that had absolutely nothing to do with his research, but that he found amusing anyway.

He was taking the second trip back to the bunker, arms full of heavy and smelly books when he noticed Val tapping her foot impatiently at the trapdoor.

"There you are." She said, crossing her arms in her usual annoyed attitude. "I was starting to wonder if you had locked yourself for real."

"What do you want, Val?" The old attitude that belonged to a gray Branch made an appearance. The rock girl seemed surprised when he frowned and placed all the books on his elevator, not sparing her a second look.

The Branch that happily smiled, that was excited about the new cultures, that was doing his best to support his girlfriend and be a part of their community suddenly retreated, giving room to the desperate need to be alone.

"So, that's the paranoid hermit everyone talks about?" Val teased, taking the survivalist by surprise. "I have to say, you're cool like this. You'd fit perfectly at Volcano Rock City."

It was just one line and Val had noticed his attitude change. Branch cursed internally and straightened his back before turning around to give her the attention she needed.

"As you can see, I'm busy, so hurry and say what you want from me." He couldn't avoid frowning. Why was the bad mood so uncontrollable?

"Okay, I get it." Val rolled her eyes, "Isolation instincts are kicking in." Branch was about to make a remark when her expression changed. The rock girl was genuinely worried about something. "Look, you're Poppy's boyfriend so if there's someone who can knock some sense into her, that's you."

Oh boy, what did she do this time?

"Seriously, Val, if you don't want to attend another Girls' Night…"

"She almost died today." Val interrupted him. A small feeling of satisfaction was noticed when his frown melted into worry. His eyebrows raised, the lines softened and the growl that was ready to come out was held back in a moment of shock. "Poppy risked herself to walk over an old bridge to show Tiny Diamond she believed his imaginary friend was real!"

Branch blinked a few times in confusion. It sounded too odd… but at the same time, it was something Poppy would definitely do.

"If I wasn't there, we'd be having a royal funeral right now."

Val tried to sound like she didn't care. She was checking her fingernails and scoffing as if it was something that was frequently happening. Only, her choice of words triggered a memory for Branch. He recalled an alternative Biggie's voice saying that Poppy died on the daisy fields.

His heart painfully skipped a beat. Branch thought that he might be having a cardiac arrest at any moment.

He couldn't think of Poppy dead. Not even in a hypothetical situation.

"Branch? You're okay? Branch!"

The survivalist shook his head, as if he could physically remove the horrible thoughts.

"Jeez, you're pale." Val stated in concern. "You're not passing out on me, are you?"

"No…" his voice sounded squeaky. "I'm not. Thanks for telling me about Poppy."

"Sure…" still not convinced, Val stared at Branch from hair to toes. Stiff like a piece of wood, but he was still standing… and frowning. It meant he was okay, right? "Anyway, I'm out. You better give her a lecture about safety, I'm sure she missed a few points."

As Val walked away, Branch wondered if his years of isolation and antisocial manners would follow him throughout his life. The rock tribe didn't meet him when he was gray, and neither did the other tribes. When they arrived in Trollstopia the survivalist considered himself a happy troll. He still had a few things he needed to work on (like his obsession with the neatness of his bunker), but he was nowhere near the troll he once was.

Rumors must have spread fast. Pop trolls must have talked about how Branch used to be. It was useless to run from his past. It was useless masking his history to make him look less crazy.

And, indeed, he was some level of crazy, wasn't he? Being haunted by his own mind that created an alluring version of his innocent girlfriend…

Branch didn't realize what he was doing, but somehow, he walked his way to Poppy's place, taking all the flowers he found on the way to wrap them in a colorful bouquet. His own self-observation moments could wait. He would figure a way out of his darkness alone. At the moment - he looked up to see Poppy's pod with the lights on - he needed to make the queen understand she needed to be careful.

The absurdity of that thought was surreal. How could a queen not realize she needed to be careful? The whole village - correction, city - looked up to her.

"Poppy?" Branch called, jumping inside.

The pod was like it had always been. Pink hair, green blankets on the bed, a white fluffy table full of scrapbook supplies and many shelves full of trophies.

"Branch!" Poppy walked out of the kitchen, with thick gloves that she immediately removed to embrace her boyfriend so tightly he heard a rib crack. "I was just thinking about you!"

"Oh?" He replied, returning the hug as tenderly as he could under his thundering heart.

"Yes!" Poppy squealed, quickly running to the kitchen to return with a basket full of freshly baked cupcakes and pies. "I miss our evenings together" Carefully, the queen placed a blanket and a few fruits inside. "I mean, since you're in that secret project and I must stay out of the bunker, I thought maybe we could go stargazing, today?"

"Poppy…" Branch whispered, feeling all the love in the world for that troll that was smiling so adoringly at him, and, at the same time, so horrified that if it wasn't for Val, she wasn't going to be standing there. "Here…" He showed her the flowers and her face lit up even more. "... before we go stargazing, I must have a serious conversation with you."

"Oh!" Giving him a quick thank you kiss on the cheek; Poppy placed the flowers inside a proper vase. "Do you need help with your project? Please tell me you do!"

"I didn't come here to talk about the project." He took her hands, trying to stop the excitement and agitation that made her hop around the pod, taking her scrapbook supplies to put inside her hair. "Listen, Val just came to visit me and she told me about an accident today."

"Oh dear," scratching the back of her hair in shame, Poppy ended up sitting down on her bed, avoiding Branch's eyes. "Tiny made me look like a fool. On the bright side, the bridge was old anyway. We're building a better one first thing in the morning."

"You know I'm not here to talk about a bridge." Branch sternly stared at her and Poppy, once again avoided his eyes, looking down at her knees. "You need to be more careful."

"I know… I just didn't want to disappoint Tiny…"

"If something bad… If… you weren't here…" He couldn't quite place the correct words to skip the morbid-ness of the subject. "... not only Tiny, but the whole city would be disappointed."

"I'm sorry, Branch. Sometimes I'm so focused on helping my friends that I just… don't think."

"Yes, we all know that." He felt bad for making Poppy apologize. When the pink girl was feeling down, she would involuntarily take him with her. "I'm here to ask you to be careful. If you feel like you're doing something dangerous, then stop it."

Thinking about safety was against Poppy's trolly instincts. To hope for the best and to believe things would be all right was her way of living. She had been right most of the time. Everything that seemed dangerous or implausible ended well. Not thanks to the queen of positiveness, of course, but thanks to trolls who surrounded her and did their best to support her.

Branch didn't have the heart to point out how many times things were going to take a turn for the worse and she was saved. Starting on the day he saved her from being devoured by taratapuffs.

Hair… he was getting grumpy again, wasn't he?

"I will do my best, Branch. I promise." Poppy smiled, making things suddenly brighter. "Hey, are you up for that picnic under the stars?"

"All right." The survivalist stood up, taking the basket full of goodies. "But we cannot doze off, okay? I must return to the bunker tonight."

They jumped out of the pod after turning off the lights. Poppy was careful not to touch his hands as they passed several groups of trolls having their last round of games of the day. Branch noticed that she had the impulse to take his hand. She reached out, but before touching him, she retreated, as if remembering, at the last second, that he wasn't comfortable with showing affection in public.

"The hill is all ours." Poppy squealed, showing him that the perfect spot for stargazing was surprisingly empty. "We can cuddle without worrying about trolls walking in on us."

Branch was mostly quiet. The queen served him a cupcake and sat down on the blanket; eyes fixed on the sky. The teal troll discreetly watched her, finding the way her hair softly blew with the wind much more interesting than any star.

She was sweet. She nudged him playfully when he nearly missed a falling star.

His eyelids were as heavy as his heart. The troubled sleep made him tired most of the time and along with the uncertainty of his own emotions, his body was screaming for some rest.

"Your hair is a mess." He felt Poppy hesitantly touching the top of his hair. Indeed, he didn't remember the last time he even washed it properly. "Can I brush it?"

Her request startled him. It felt uncomfortable having such an intimate proximity with her through hair brushing when he still had a gut tearing guilt about not being able to control himself during the nightmares.

Poppy blinked at him with her long eyelashes and he gave in. If he denied her request, she would know something was wrong.

"S-sure… let me take a few things out, first." A screwdriver, a hammer, nun chucks…

"Really?" Poppy raised her eyebrow, seeing the weapon he was still carrying around.

"Force of habit." … a battery-drill and Gary. "Okay, done."

She offered him another cupcake before tapping his shoulder. The pink girl didn't have to say a word, he obediently laid on her lap so she could reach the full length of his hair.

The survivalist munched on his cupcake mindlessly. His eyes were fixed on the sky that was invaded by the sight of pink hair flying around. His body went fully alert as her left hand softly caressed his chin, while her right one proceeded with torture in the form of hair-care.

Poppy started from his scalp, massaging it gently, intending to relax him at first. With a hairbrush she took from her own hair, she went from the base to the top excruciatingly slow. Her gentle fingers moved from his face to his hair to hold a few strands in place when she met knots, so she wouldn't hurt him by accidentally pulling one too hard.

The cerulean blue of his hair captured her attention with the last minutes of light of the day. It shone brightly under the sunset, then when she was finished with a lock, it was a bit darker and the hair was back in its deep, nearly black shade of blue again.

Down and up, slow and tender. Branch feared he was breathing too loud. He felt feverish with her touch. The lightness of the tip of her fingers made his toes curl. Her natural strawberry scent made his mouth water and each time she leaned down, trying to grab another lock that was farther from her reach, his nose would be close to her neck and a hot perfumed air would invade his nostrils.

Poppy saw her boyfriend's muscles hardening. He was tense for some reason she couldn't point out, but it was her goal to make him relax. Branch needed to let go of whatever had been bothering him the last few days.

If there was a project or not, it didn't matter. Branch wanted to keep her out of the bunker and that alone had hurt at first.

She finished untying all the knots and set the brush aside. With her fingers, Poppy softly caressed him, lightly touching his forehead before going up again. His eyes were closed and his breathing finally seemed to become long and even.

A small smile showed in the corner of his mouth. Poppy bit her lower lip to keep her contentment in check.

Branch was sound asleep on her lap.