The Mirror P.O.V

Branch's stomach felt queasy and his head kept rewinding the scene about the morning before when Poppy excused herself from his bedroom, vanished from the bunker and didn't show up since then.

It was absurd connecting Poppy's rushed exit to a stomach bug, after all, that was all it was. A bug. He probably ate something that wasn't as fresh as he thought and it had him nauseated. It wasn't a ridiculous intuition or sixth sense. That was completely irrational and Branch was a rational troll thank you very much.

To prove himself wrong, the survivalist decided that he had enough of cleaning his bunker. One day of maintenance, then laundry and ironing his clothes along with Poppy's violet dress and -ahem- underwear was what he needed. Of course his kitchen and bathroom were sparkling before he realized he had spent his day fully occupied with his chores and it was time to sleep again.

Branch had spent that morning in bed. He didn't feel like going for his morning swim and just stared at the ceiling for three hours until it was time for the morning song. He was looking forward to that moment when Poppy would fill his heart with tingly feelings so he would start the day with a more positive attitude.

But there was no morning song. Branch even glanced at the clock a couple of times thinking that maybe he had dozed off and missed it, but he was sure he hadn't slept a wink since four in the morning.

The stupid nausea was back instantly and Poppy's smile, that one that haunted him during the Hair Ball Supreme - hollow and faulty - it was like a painted portrait in his mind, impressionistic, with thick paint that got misty when seen closely.

Branch retraced his steps. He had broken down with another nightmare and Poppy had comforted him. She held him sweetly and made him feel better. Bitten lip, cold but always understanding, Poppy was essentially what saved him.

He was beaming with happiness the next day. He knew he was freed. Rock Poppy wouldn't be able to reach him if there were no guilty feelings to be carried around. The truth was out and Poppy - sweet and devoted as she was - didn't breathe a word of it.

So a juicy breakfast was prepared as a way to thank her for all her trouble. Branch wanted to pamper her that day. He wanted to spend the day kissing her and singing and dancing.

But it wasn't what he got, was it? She claimed to be tired and left. He focused his energy on cleaning instead.

The stupid morning song used to annoy him, but the lack of it terrified him.

Black pants and camouflage shirt were quickly slipped on and, in a blink, Branch was on the elevator, going up as fast as he could and opened the trapdoor.

Biggie was there. Sitting down. Looking like he had been crying.

Branch's heart stopped. That scene was oddly familiar. A hellish deja vu knocked the air out of him and made his sight cloudy.

"Biggie, what…? What?" He couldn't put words together. Please, let Poppy be fine.

"Branch…" Biggie sniffed.

Daisies. Why was Branch thinking about freaking daisies?

"There was no morning song, I believe you've noticed." Biggie held Mr. Dinkles closely.

"Is Poppy sick?" Branch felt his lips trembling.

"I'm afraid so, I'm not sure." His big blue friend whispered. "I know she's not well."

"Where is she?" Branch asked urgently, putting both his hands on Biggie's shoulders.

"She's locked." Biggie stood up and Branch frowned, "inside Lownote's spaceship. No one can get in there."

Lownote Jones's spaceship.

The words echoed in his mind, suddenly making his cardiac arrest revert and jump straight to a desperate beating.

Poppy wouldn't…? Would she…?

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Poppy stared at the panel for a long moment. At least it seemed like it. The clock on the wall didn't move, as she was told time ran differently inside the funk spaceship.

Curiosity and the possibility of finally understanding what Branch went through pushed her forward, but fear of discovering something that could dilacerate her heart held her back.

When she was a trolling being educated to one day take her dad's place, Poppy had a lesson that she found useful and tricky. Her dad had called it a Mirror P.O.V.

Basically she was supposed to put herself in someone else's shoes. When a troll made a decision or did something she couldn't understand, it was her job to see herself as that troll. The way he or she was raised, how he was treated by life itself and what was the motivation factor that pushed him towards the decision he made. That way, she could fully comprehend and give assertive advice.

Staring at the blank wormhole in front of her, Poppy literally had a chance to put herself in Branch's shoes and see what he had seen.

But he was her boyfriend and he was entitled to his privacy. He was allowed to have his own secrets. Snooping felt like she was doubting him.

And yet, she was filled with heartache and doubts.

Poppy moved her finger over the command board and gasped. Her hand was gray. Her arm wasn't, but the grayness was crawling up. The color had vanished up to her wrists.

Cybil's premonition rang a bell.

Everything ended in grayness, numb, cold and aseptic.

"You will seek knowledge. You must understand the circumstances before it's too late." Cybil had said.

Perhaps, it was important that, even though Poppy was overstepping her limits, she had to go through that journey, to be able to truly put herself in her boyfriend's place and forgive him completely.

Thinking that it was impossible to save her relationship from the dark vines of doubt otherwise, Poppy took a deep breath and decided to ignore everything that was screaming inside her mind that she shouldn't do it.

With a small beep, the start button was pressed.