-O-

Picturebook Romance

A Trolls fanfic

By Dreamsinger

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Understanding

With their entwined hair in a loose, comfortable arch overhead, the young couple completed their tranquil loop around the village and started back up the slope that led to Branch's bunker.

Poppy had a question. "Hey, Branch, if anxiety usually goes away, why didn't yours?"

He was quiet for a moment. "Well, not all anxiety goes away by itself, not without treatment," he explained, "and I didn't really start getting what I needed to feel better until I was sent to live with my foster dads. All my previous foster parents meant well, but there's only so much bottomless enthusiasm can do. Like, you can't always make someone feel better, no matter how much you might want to. Making me go to parties with them didn't make me want to join in and have fun. In fact, just the opposite. Being surrounded by happy people when you're not just makes you feel more isolated from everyone." His ears tipped downward as his eyes dulled, lost in sad memories.

"Oh. I didn't realize that."

Poppy was silent, thinking about all the well-intentioned invitations she'd pressed on him over the years. Now I feel insensitive. No wonder his usual reaction was to roll his eyes and groan. I'm surprised he didn't stomp on all of them.

Lost in thought, she didn't realize she had slowed her pace until Branch stopped to let her catch up to him, then took her hand in his. "That's okay. I didn't understand it myself, really, or understand how to explain it to them, either. It took years for me to work it out."

She felt a little better then. "Well, I'm glad your foster dads were finally able to help you," she said sincerely.

"Yeah." Branch cleared his throat and shook his head as if to shake off the bad thoughts. "Instead of trying to make me get better, my foster dads let me heal at my own pace. They gave me space when I needed it. Most of all, they made me feel understood, for the first time in my life. My other foster parents had sometimes told me they understood how I felt, but I didn't believe them. How could I? They wouldn't talk to me about their pasts. But Jaunty and Courtley did. Even though I know it caused them pain. But they did it anyway, because they saw how much better it made me feel, to feel understood. It made me feel closer to them."

That felt familiar somehow. "The closer you got, the more secure you felt," she mused aloud. "Sort of like how we use hugs to feel close."

Branch looked surprised. "Yeah, I guess so. Never thought of it that way. Hm."

Poppy was on the verge of asking, If they were helping you heal, why did you stop living with them? when she remembered what Branch had told her during their picnic lunch, after he'd woken up crying. At long last, Branch gave his foster dads his trust. Then he found out they'd been keeping secrets from him – about the bergens, of all things. He was devastated. It's no wonder he didn't want to live with them anymore.

What's surprising is that he was able to learn to trust any of us after that.

It occurred to Poppy that he was demonstrating his trust in her right now. "Thank you for telling me more about your past." She gently squeezed the hand she was holding and brought her other hand up to rub his belly as they strolled along toward home. "I know it isn't easy for you, but it's so important to me. I want to understand you for who you are."

He put his other hand over hers on his belly as his face relaxed into a loving smile. "I'm just grateful that there's someone out there who wants to understand me, anxiety and all."

She smiled back and affectionately booped his nose with hers. "I sure do, Sugarfruit. And I'm not the only one."

He gave her a puzzled look. "Okay, 'sugar' I get, but Sugarfruit?"

"Well, sugarfruit soup is one of your specialties, isn't it?"

His expression brightened. "Yeah, it is. You're one of the few trolls who remembers that."

"You created that soup to help Jaunty, and I remember you feeding it to me when I was little. It was so yummy, and you were so nice to me. It was the first time I felt like you loved me, so of course I remember."

"You must have come to associate my soup with love," Branch theorized, and then his ears went a little floppy as a soft look came into his eyes. "Aww. That's adorable."

Poppy kissed his cheek. "So are you."

Branch hummed with pleasure, pressing his cheek against hers.

I think he likes the nickname. Pleased at her success, Poppy elaborated, "And speaking of closeness, you know how right now I have a case of – what did you call it? General anxiety? Well, you're right - it does make me feel closer to you, to know that you understand what I'm going through."

"Generalized anxiety. Yeah." Her earnest words encouraged him to share even more about himself. "Although I think I had more than just generalized anxiety. I think I had something called PTSD, complicated by survivor's guilt. Deep down, I felt like I didn't deserve to be happy."

"Oh, Branch, of course you deserved to be happy," she said tenderly. "You know your Grandma would never have wanted you to spend the rest of your life punishing yourself. It would make her much happier to see you being happy, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah, I know. You're right. It just took me a long time to accept that. But you and our friends finally got through to me. That, and learning from Bridget that the bergens weren't the monsters I'd built them up to be in my mind; they were just…people with problems. Just like us. I couldn't think of them as the enemy anymore, and without an enemy to fight, I… I kind of lost steam, I guess. It was easier to forgive them, and that made it easier to forgive myself."

Poppy agreed. "Self-forgiveness is an important lesson to learn."

"It is?"

"Of course it is."

Branch said slyly, "Then maybe a certain pretty pink troll might try forgiving herself for her completely unintentional accident?"

"I-" Poppy caught on to what he was doing and raised an eyebrow. "I see what you did there. Well played." Then she sighed. "I'll try. It might take a while."

She gave his hair a little squeeze with her own as she added playfully, "I might need a certain handsome aquamarine troll's help. He seems to know a lot about this anxiety stuff."

He squeezed back. "Anytime, Poppy."

The young couple sauntered peacefully for a few minutes while Poppy thought about everything Branch had told her. Anxiety seems to be a bigger issue than I realized. We aren't taught much about it at school; just our typical everyday lessons on how to be emotionally supportive to others. Also, Branch told me the village psychologist only treats party-related issues. So how did he figure all this out?

"Hey, Branch, when I was having that panic attack when you were showing me your family's books, you knew exactly how to calm me down. Where did you learn so much about how to treat anxiety?"

"Well, first of all, you were having an anxiety attack, not a panic attack."

"Oh, really? There's a difference? When it happens to you, I always think of it as a 'panic attack'."

"Yes, there's a difference. Panic attacks are more extreme," he explained. "I've had both, actually. They have a lot of the same symptoms, but anxiety attacks usually have a cause, like exposure to something you're afraid of or stressed out about. Or you're worrying too much about something."

"Panic attacks, on the other hand, often come out of nowhere. You can just be standing there as part of a crowd, watching a wedding or a funeral or whatever, and then suddenly you're flipping over cakes and running screaming from the pod. Fight-or-flight instinct kicks in, you know? Even with nothing threatening you. It's like you're disconnected from reality."

For once, Poppy had no desire to chuckle over his past social gaffes. "Oh, Branch. I'm so sorry that happened to you," she murmured, her voice gone all husky and subdued. Wanting to comfort her sweetheart, she rubbed his belly again, and this time she noticed that it no longer seemed to bother him the way it had last night in bed.

The pink troll's natural optimism kicked in. Hey, he is making progress. Look how much easier it is for him to accept physical affection already. Way sooner than I would have thought, which is awesome, she thought excitedly. There are so many fun things I want to do with him once he's ready…

"Of course, it didn't help that I was sleep-deprived a lot back then," Branch commented, reminding her that the current topic was not so fun, but it was important to talk about, because she loved him.

She met his eyes and tilted her head to show she was listening and he elaborated, "Socializing really took a lot out of me, so before an event even started I'd spend days preparing to go, and work myself into a state of mental exhaustion, unable to sleep."

Poppy could imagine that. Easily.

Working it out aloud, Poppy said thoughtfully, "So then, those times you ran away, yelling, 'The bergens are coming,', those were panic attacks, right? And when you kind of freaked out but didn't do anything else when I wanted to cuddle you in bed last night, that was an anxiety attack?"

Branch winced at the reminder. "Yeeeahh, you've got it. Of course, sometimes panic attacks do have an actual cause, like a medical condition, or too much caffeine or other substances, or being under highly stressful conditions. Or having a flashback."

"Aww," Poppy said sympathetically, knowing he meant flashbacks about losing his grandma. Poppy was respectfully quiet for a minute, then asked, "So over the years, you learned how to ground yourself by getting out of your head and focusing on what's happening in the moment, right? Like how you helped me deep-belly breathe through my anxiety attack. We learned that in yoga. Deep breathing, meditation, and relaxing stretching routines all help ground yourself."

"Exactly right. Getting a healthy amount of exercise, eating regular, healthy meals, and sticking to a regular sleep schedule help, too, a lot more than you think. This is all basic self-care stuff we're taught as trollings, but it can be hard to follow sometimes, especially when you're under a lot of pressure. Like, say, from being queen?" He lifted an eyebrow and grinned.

Poppy grinned back as he added, "But I've found that it's well worth the effort. No matter how much pressure you're under, you have the right to take care of yourself. In fact, when I'm stressed out I find myself craving my self-soothing routines, like taking a nice hot bath. Or reading a good book. Then I can come back to a problem with a fresh perspective."

Poppy decided to do a little soothing of her own, slipping her arm around him to give him a sideways hug as they strolled along. "Sounds good to me. We'll take a nice hot bath together, read a little from your journal… Mmm, yeah, nice and soothing."

He put his own arm around her. "Yeah."

Feeling secure and well-loved, Poppy mulled over her boyfriend's words.

"Hey, Branch, what's PSD?"

"Hm? Oh, PTSD? It stands for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I learned the term from my family's psychology books," he answered casually. "The ones you saw in my storage room, remember?"

She winced. "Ooo, yeah…the books that got damaged. I forgot about them. Don't worry, I'll make you new copies of them as soon as I can."

"Thanks, but really, don't stress yourself out about them. It's not an emergency. They're not exactly going to turn into dust overnight."

"Oh, but Branch, I-"

He held up his free hand. "You just focus on you for now, okay?" he said gently. "Please?"

She opened her mouth to protest, then subsided. "Okay."

Maybe he wants to keep them private, like his journals.

The pink troll tried to contain her impatience, but as she thought about his family's lost history, the avid scrapbooker in her was itching to recreate such important works of knowledge and creativity, especially because they were so valuable to Branch. Those books were his one true connection to his original family, after all. Besides, Branch had mentioned psychology, which was always a fascinating subject. What other secrets were hidden within those mysterious books?

He said I could re-do the scrapbooks, but he didn't say I could read the journals. If he does, I wonder if he'd let me make scrapbook versions of them to share with everyone? We lost a lot of knowledge during the years we were the bergens' captives, after all.

Madly curious but still not wanting to push the subject if he wasn't ready to talk about them, she asked carefully, "So… They must be some pretty special books, huh?" So many topics were triggers for him, especially anything relating to family.

Once upon a time she'd have been right, but happily, he seemed to be past that now. It was a sign of how much better he was that he actually answered her.

"Honestly, for most of my life, I didn't want anything to do with them. I was afraid they'd just remind me of everybody I'd lost. But I finally got brave enough - well, desperate enough, really - to try reading them."

"Desperate?"

"I was looking for advice. Remember how I told you I've been in love with you for years? Well, back when I first realized I had feelings for you, I kind of freaked out, and I didn't have anyone else to talk to about it."

"Aww, Branch. I feel so bad for you. I wish you would have said something to me."

He shrugged. "What would have been the point? It's not like you could have returned my feelings, because, seriously?" He gestured in the air with both hands. "The princess and the gray grump? I wouldn't have been a good match for you then."

Distressed, she protested, "But Branch, you were so alone…"

He shook his head and said seriously, "Poppy, I'd never even had a hairbloom before. Confessing to you then would have just made things awkward for the both of us. Besides," he wrinkled his nose critically, "I would have made a terrible boyfriend."

"Oh, Branch…" Her heart ached at his calm acceptance of something so sad. She felt even worse when she realized that he was right. She couldn't have dated him without doing something unthinkable – making at least some of her people unhappy. And she certainly couldn't have married him. A gray troll who didn't understand happiness would never have made a good king of the trolls no matter how much she might have cared about him. It was an awful thought, but to say otherwise would be a lie.

But as she looked at the wonderful, sweet man he was now, she knew that he had always had that potential deep down inside, if only she'd done more to bring that man out. If only she hadn't listened to him all the times he'd told her he wanted to be left alone, or to Creek and others who told her that Branch needed his space and didn't even want to be happy.

No, she wouldn't lie to her boyfriend, but there was one truth she could say; something very important he needed to hear.

"Good match or not, never think that you weren't worthy of being loved, Branch." She stopped walking to cradle his face in her hands, looking solemnly into his eyes as she declared, "I have always cared about you. If I hadn't been the princess…"

He gave her a tender look. "I know. And thanks."

He leaned in to kiss her and she responded warmly, wrapping her arms around him, and he hugged her back. Whether or not they would have made a good couple in the past, they were a good couple now.

Poppy wanted to do everything she could to show Branch how much she loved him, how much she needed him, and how very much she wanted him. He seemed to be okay with her touching him now, so maybe he could handle a little more affection?

Poppy began to rub his broad back, hoping he would find it soothing, as she always did. His kiss tapered off as he went still, but when she opened her eyes to check on him his chin was tilted up and he wore a wide, dreamy smile on his face.

A matching smile spread over her own lips as she closed her eyes again, enjoying the glide of her hands over sleek silk. His body heat radiated through the thin fabric, enticing her to snuggle into him as his big warm hands on her own back helped to ward off the chill in the air. She loved the gentle flex of his solid body against her own as he breathed, and the cherished brush of his breath through her hair.

Feels so good…

Poppy let herself relax, and felt him do the same. For a long, blissful moment, they were the only two trolls in the world.

Eventually she began to let her hands roam further; long, steady strokes from his nape to the end of his vest. She found herself timing her strokes to go with his breaths, long and deep and somehow satisfying against her chest. Idly Poppy walked her fingers up and down his spine a few times, felt him shiver in reaction, and grinned.

"You like this?" she whispered intimately in his ear.

His reply was nothing more than a soft, contented sound, and her heart heated and melted. The troll who had once hated hugs was enjoying her touching his body.

Loving the idea of giving him pleasure, she moved to explore more of him, eagerly jumping the boundary where his vest stopped to run her hands across his bottom. Enjoying the pleasing curves of soft flesh under her hands, she caressed him in wide, slow circles, the edge of one wrist rubbing against the beaded heart the twins had sewn onto his new white shorts.

His bottom was intriguingly softer than the rest of him. Experimentally, she squeezed his cheeks as the twins had done and he jumped. "Ahem."

She let him go and stepped back to see him giving her a look of amusement. She grinned back as he gave her hair a little squeeze with his own, and she squeezed back.

Her boyfriend took a step toward her with a playful look in his eyes, but just then a gruff little voice said, "Yeah, yeah. Get a pod, you two."

Poppy blinked. "Who said that?" It had sounded very close but there was no one else there.

Branch looked around, scrunched up his face, and shrugged.

The voice came again. "I did."

In tandem the two trolls looked to one side, then the other, then down, and finally up. Right above their heads was a tarantapuff, maybe the same one she'd accidentally kicked earlier, hanging from a line of spider silk and scowling at them with its two front legs crossed. Poppy flushed hotly, exchanging embarrassed glances with her boyfriend who was probably also blushing, although in the moonlight it was hard to tell for sure.

"Sorry," she and Branch said together. Branch gave a little gesture with his head, rolling his eyes toward home and Poppy nodded.

As they turned to leave, the green-and-purple spider unexpectedly asked, "You okay now?"

They paused, and then smiled at one another as they realized that the little creature had been worried about her.

"Yeah," they answered.

"Thank you," Poppy added.

"'Sokay." The little spider waved a fluffy leg at them as they left.

After walking for a minute, Branch seemed to recall what they'd been talking about before her impromptu affection break and recounted, "So anyway, there I was - logical, practical Branch, freaking out over a crush, of all things." He gestured emphatically in the air. "I didn't know what to do. I couldn't exactly talk to anybody about it - I'd burned all my bridges with my old friends years ago."

"Then one day I was trying to distract myself by cleaning out a storage room I'd ignored since I first moved into my bunker and I found some boxes of books at the bottom of a pile of my family's old belongings - odds and ends that several trolls had saved for me. I'd managed to completely forget about those books. But that day, I was so lonely I needed to make contact with somebody. Anybody."

He paused, and Poppy watched the care lines at the corners of his eyes deepen.

"Oh, Branch…" she whispered. Suffering like that, all alone... Can I ever do enough to make it up to him? Her heart hurting, Poppy responded to her sweetheart's pain by threading her hair more deeply into his, trying to give him the feeling of connectedness he craved so much.

He welcomed her in much the same way his heart had, blending his own hair more fully with hers. His fingers matched the sentiment as well, linking with her own, and Poppy found herself falling into his expressive blue eyes, into the depths of emotion she found there. Distress, loneliness, misery. Wistfulness. His love for her, and his gratitude for the unquestioning support he needed so much.

His eyes so deep, I fear if I dive in, I'll never come up for air…

And this Branch let her see it all, so unlike the way the old Branch used to try to hide his vulnerability behind anger or sarcasm, or even avoid feeling at all by seeking refuge in a neverending cycle of work.

-O-

Poppy remembered the first time he'd ever shut her out.

Lying the hospital pod after his Incident, covered in white bandages with his arm and leg in heavy plaster casts, her poor hurt friend had gone so deeply gray that even his eyes had been colorless. At the time she hadn't known that his despondency had had less to do with losing his pod than with losing his beloved foster dads, but she'd still sensed that something was terribly wrong with her friend. The confident, dynamic personality that she had watched blossom during his two-year stay with Jaunty and Courtley seemed to wither away overnight, his dull, deadened gaze constantly downcast.

She'd been surprised when her daddy told her that Branch was moving to a new pod instead of going back home to live with his dads. Branch hadn't said anything to her about it. But then, lately it seemed like he was tired all the time. He never played with her anymore. Even talking seemed to be an effort for him. Maybe he just forgot to tell me.

The next time she visited him, she asked him curiously, "Hey, Branch, why aren't you going back home? Won't your dads miss you? Won't you miss them?"

Suddenly her friend went still, a flash of anguish creasing his face.

"Branch, what's wrong? Does something hurt?" Poppy started toward his bed, her arms outstretched to help him when a sudden blast of rage made her gasp and stop in her tracks.

"Get away from me!"

It was like being slapped in the face all over again. At his furious glare she instinctively swooped her hair down over her body, hiding herself from his view.

Biting her lip, she waited for him to keep yelling at her, but he said nothing. After a long, awkward silence, she couldn't stand it any more and asked, "Did I say something wrong? If I did, I'm sorry, Branch. I didn't mean to make you mad."

She winced as she heard him move on his bed, but nothing happened. She peeked out to see that he'd rolled over with his back to her.

Not knowing what else to do, she waited.

Finally he sighed and answered her question. "No. I won't miss them. They're not-" His voice broke. "They're not my dads."

Poppy didn't know what to say. It was as if the last two years hadn't happened, and here he was, all upset again because of some bad thing she'd said that she hadn't known was bad. She tried to get him to tell her what was going on - "What do you mean, they aren't your dads?" – but he refused to say anything more.

Branch didn't forgive her this time, or let her hug him, either. It was the first time he'd ever truly shut her out. She would almost rather have been slapped again, if it meant he would still be her friend.

Her niggling sense of guilt and need to make things right between them had stayed with her, but from then on the older trolling had turned away from her every attempt to comfort him. The last of his trollhood openness had been locked behind that fateful golden door, with only the bright memories of his wry, protective presence at her side shining through the keyhole, urging her to find ways to open it again.

It had taken a long time for Branch to even partially recover. After he'd moved in with Leafe he had rarely left their pod, not even to go to school, for months afterward. He wouldn't even come out to play, no matter how many times she showed up outside her friend's new pod. It was as though the only things he could feel from then on were weariness or irritability, and nothing else. She was often left beaming awkwardly at the door slammed in her face.

After many months Branch had unexpectedly shown up at school one day, to everyone's surprise. When Poppy chatted with his classmate Creek, she learned that although Branch did no better in the lessons on empathy and feelings than he ever had, in the academic subjects he was far ahead of the rest of them. When their teacher asked, Branch explained that Leafe had been tutoring him.

From then on, Branch was a changed troll; quieter somehow, more formal, more…more detached. He seemed to see the world through a glass window, only getting involved with others as far as was required of him and no further. He rarely talked about his feelings anymore, except for those times she was able to draw him into an argument, when a brief flare of his old passion came through and she knew her strong-willed friend was still in there somewhere.

So she kept prodding him, even though she knew it made him regard her as an annoying nuisance. She took full advantage of the fact that as his princess, he couldn't ignore her as easily as the others. Besides, as time passed, getting grumpy old Branch to do fun things with her and their friends began to seem like a kind of game, or competition. She suspected that he did enjoy being with them, at least a little bit, even though he always denied it.

During his brief friendship with Acorn two years later, the dour gray troll had finally started openly showing more enthusiasm for life again. It was obvious they adored one another. With the cute little trolling skipping trustingly along by his "big brother's" side, they roamed throughout the village, chatting animatedly with each other, and with her and the other trolls.

When he and Acorn played with everyone, the gray troll had still been serious, but he'd also been good-humored, patient, and approachable. He'd even smiled sometimes. And he'd been very gentle and protective toward Acorn, who was going through his own hard time. The two of them had been good for one another.

At ten, Poppy had been ecstatic at the return of her old friend, even though it hadn't lasted long.

At some point Branch and Acorn had stopped hanging out together. Branch's guard had gone back up, he'd stopped playing with her and the others again, and soon afterward, he'd moved into his bunker. At the time, Poppy had taken his word for it when he'd said the reason was because he wanted to be more independent. Like everyone else in the village, the young princess had come to believe in the strong, self-reliant image he showed the world.

But after their conversation at dinner, when Branch had admitted he'd wanted to be invisible, she knew now that it wasn't just that he felt he couldn't trust the trolls around him not to hurt him, but that he'd been afraid of hurting them as well. So he had concluded that the only way he could avoid doing that was to become as strong and independent as possible.

Well, he might have succeeded in becoming 'strong' in one way, but what he didn't understand was how very vulnerable it made him in a different way - not to threats from around him, but to threats from within. In a way, he became his own worst enemy.

Poppy never wanted to see him like that again, getting all down on himself, full of shame and guilt and self-doubt. How perilously easy it must have been, to look at himself and see only his most negative traits, with no one around to point out all the wonderful, positive things about him. No wonder he'd stayed gray.

He'd continued to act that way for the next ten years, swinging back and forth between untrusting wariness and friendly camaraderie. Many times, Poppy had had the feeling that one good tug would pull him through the metaphorical door she had sensed even before he'd described it in his scrapbook, and bring him back to them all for good.

-O-

In contrast to Poppy's painful reflections, Branch actually sounded cheerful as he continued with his tale.

"Looking through my family's books turned out to be a good decision, since besides advice on dating and romance, there was a lot of really fascinating information I'd never read anywhere else."

"Really? Like what?"

"Advanced topics in engineering, justice studies, project management, cooking, gardening, astrophysics, medicine, biology, chemistry…and psychology. You know, useful knowledge. No offense."

"None taken." She meant it. "If geeking out over that kind of stuff makes you happy, I'm all for it."

He grinned. "Thanks."

Now she knew one thing she could do for him. "I'd love to hear more about what you've learned."

He looked surprised. "Seriously?"

"Of course. Just because I don't like to get too technical sometimes doesn't mean I'm not interested in new ideas," she said honestly. "Like how to deal with anxiety. I had no idea it could get so bad."

"Oh, it can," he agreed. "Although you and King Peppy did a such great job when it came to establishing a happy, healthy village that it's never been much of a problem for most trolls…"

Poppy beamed at his praise – just wait until her dad heard that!

"…but apparently anxiety used to be a lot more common among trolls in the days when we were still the bergens' captives. Some of the books contained some really good advice about managing it. For example, keeping a journal to write down my thoughts."

"You have a lot of journals. I guess that means you had a lot of bad thoughts, huh?" she asked sympathetically.

"Well, yeah, but despite what you might have read in my older ones, journals aren't just for bad thoughts, Poppy. They're a good way to sort out your feelings, and keep track of your accomplishments, and future hopes, and things you want to get done."

"I can relate to that. I do pretty much the same thing when I scrapbook."

"Yeah, I guess you do." Branch looked happy that they had something in common. "And like you, I also like to record the positive things in my life. There's a lot more of those now than bad stuff, thanks to you."

"I'm glad, Branch."

She started to smile at him, but just then the sad little face she'd seen in his drawing in the first of his Bunker Journals rose up in her mind's eye. He'd drawn that picture at the start of ten years of miserable, fearful self-isolation that should never have been allowed to happen. Her ears drooped. Just how much "bad stuff" do I not know about?

Branch's eyes widened. "Poppy, what's wrong?"

She gave him a look of distress. "It really bothers me that you had to suffer all alone for so long. I mean, you lost your grandma when you were so young. You should have been able to heal, to move on and live a full, happy life, but you didn't. What did I - we - do wrong?"

"You didn't do anything wrong, Poppy. It was just a very messy situation for everybody. I know I could have done more to make my foster parents' lives easier, too."

"Foster parents…" Poppy blinked. "That's it. That's what went wrong. You said I would get over my anxiety if I tried to live a normal, stable life, right? But you didn't have a normal, stable life. Doctor Plum blew my mind when she said you lived with sixteen different foster families. That must have been hard, being uprooted so much. No wonder you couldn't be happy. I'm so sorry, Branch. I wish I could have done more to help you."

"You did," he said softly. "You were my friend."

"…I guess…" she said doubtfully. But I knew there was something wrong. Everyone knew. We should have been able to figure out some way to help him. It's not like we didn't have the time. He was gray for twenty years…

Branch made a dismissive hand gesture, saying lightly, "Don't worry about it. I'm fine now. It's all in the past. I've left it all behind me." He pumped a fist in the air. "Everything will be cupcakes and rainbows from now on, right?"

His attempt at an optimistic grin faded when instead of responding with the enthusiasm he obviously expected, Poppy replied sadly, "Yes, Branch. You put it all behind you… The good times as well as the bad."

"Uh…" Branch seemed to sense that she was referring to more than just the current topic of conversation and quickly changed the subject. "Well, thankfully, you did have a stable home life. You've always had your dad, right? And there are literally hundreds of trolls in this village who love you and would do anything for you, including yours truly. So you'll be fine."

Oh, Branch. It's not me I'm worried about.

Poppy started to protest and then remembered that she'd already made plans that she hoped would help him heal a little more. She sighed and decided to drop the subject for now.

"I get what you're saying, Branch, but actually, it's not as many people as you think. Just our friends, my dad, and you. I can't afford to fall apart in front of most of the other trolls. I mean, I'm the queen. Nobody ever expects me to be like…this." She pressed her free hand to her chest. "When I am, it affects them all so much. If I'm upset, they're upset. If I panic, they panic. If I give up, or go gray…so do they. So I feel like I have to put on a front sometimes."

"I understand. Being a leader isn't always easy. But even so, Poppy, you're not some fairytale character who never feels sad or upset, you know? Queen or not, I think you're putting too much pressure on yourself to be perfect. People will understand. None of us are perfect, either."

"I know you're probably right…"

"Probably?" he teased her, but for once she didn't feel like reciprocating.

She looked away, as unwilling to let herself off the hook as Branch had ever been, about himself or anyone else. "It's just-"

"Poppy." Branch placed a gentle hand under her chin and turned her face to look at him, then let his hand cup her cheek. "I know you want to be the perfect queen who does everything right. I know you're afraid of disappointing people. I think that some of that is my fault, and I'm sorry. I know I put a lot of pressure on you in the past to try to get you to take being the future queen more seriously. I regret that now."

"Oh, but Branch, you were right. If I'd taken the danger from the bergens more seriously, they might never have found us."

"Poppy, considering what we now know about Chef, even if you had taken me seriously, there's a good chance they still might have someday."

She had to nod at that. "Well, that's true. Chef was as obsessed about trolls as you were about bergens."

"Hey, that's not- I wasn't obsessed-" He cut himself off as a thoughtful frown crossed his face, obviously not liking the idea but unable to ignore it now that she'd pointed it out to him. He growled under his breath.

For some reason, his grumpiness made her feel better. Grinning, Poppy leaned forward to kiss his nose, enjoying the smile that brightened his face almost against his will.

As they resumed their homeward journey, Branch declared, "I mean it, Poppy. I still have nightmares about all the ways things could have gone a lot worse. Like, the bergens could have found us sooner, back when that troll-eating father of Gristle's was still king. We wouldn't have stood a chance."

She blinked. "I never thought of that."

"Or we might have been discovered later on, with an older, more bitter Gristle who'd never found love and was all too ready to accept Chef's word for it that eating trolls was the only way to be happy. Or I might have succeeded in making you as cynical and untrusting as I was, and you'd have never even considered the possibility that the bergens could be our friends. We could even be at war with them right now."

Poppy was so shocked at all these horrible ideas, each worse than the last, that she couldn't speak.

"In fact, you finding a way to befriend the bergens was the best possible outcome; something I never, ever expected would happen. So I'm glad now that you didn't listen to me."

Warmth filled her body. He's right. I guess I did handle things pretty well. Not a bad start for a new ruler. "Thanks, Branch."

-O-

I was glad to see my girlfriend looking happier. I'd meant every word.

But just in case she was still doubting herself, I repeated, "Listen, Poppy, I know it probably sounds weird coming from me, but I truly don't expect you to be perfect. It's okay to make mistakes. Even when we were younger I didn't expect you to be perfect. I liked you just the way you were."

"You did?"

"Yeah, I did. In fact, as bright and happy as you usually were, I felt closest to you when things didn't go the way you planned," I confessed. "You'd get disappointed or angry or upset, and then try to pretend that you weren't. Even then, I wanted to do anything I could to make you feel better, especially after I fell in love with you."

-O-

I remembered how the perky pink princess used to pretend everything was fine and then cry in private, unaware of her silently sympathetic observer. I used to ache inside, wanting to go and comfort her, and I usually did, pretending to coincidentally run into her while on some errand. I would ask her what was wrong and then give her some sensible advice, or let her talk me into helping her fix whatever was wrong with her innocent little world, glad to be able to share it with her for a while.

If it was something I couldn't fix, I would offer her 'leftover' snacks because I 'made too many'. If nothing else, I would just listen, letting her vent. I was glad that she felt comfortable showing her less-than-sunny side to someone, even just the gray troll who understood unhappiness all too well.

-O-

"The fact that you were willing to show me your true feelings, even if they were negative, made me feel like we had a special connection somehow. I always wished I could do more to help you," I admitted.

"You did," she told me. "You've always been a good friend. And I could tell you were trying to cheer me up." She stopped walking to put her warm hands on my cheeks. "You keep talking about how I never gave up on you, but you know, you gave me good reason to keep trying, all those times you showed me you cared. And Branch, the fact that, even gray, you were willing to open up to me at all made me feel like I had a special connection to you, too." She drew me in to her. "It still does," she murmured just before her lips met mine.

I let myself float in the sublime sensation of her kiss for a while. "Mmm… Oh, yeah. You got me. I'm one vulnerable guy, all right."

She laughed. "So what else did your family's books say to do when you feel anxious, besides keeping a journal? Oh! Does drawing help, too? I saw a picture in the journal I read earlier, and I remember seeing you drawing in your journal when we were teenagers."

"Drawing and coloring are both really helpful," I agreed. "Poetry, too. Any kind of art is therapeutic. So is building things. Doing anything creative is helpful, really. Anything that makes you feel good about yourself."

"Like coming up with new songs, and dance choreography, hmmm?" She gave me a winsome smile. "Then I'm gonna to expect a lot more from now on, um, Music Man."

She checked my face. I shrugged, giving her my verdict on her newest nickname attempt. "Eh, not original, but not bad." Not embarrassing, at any rate, which is my main concern.

She bounced happily, adding, "Well, if the song you sang to me is any example, there's a whole bunch of wonderful songs in you just waiting to come out. Everybody is going to love them!"

"Thanks," I said, but then the grin dropped off my face as something occurred to me. "You know what, Poppy? I owe you an apology."

"For what?"

"For making fun of singing and dancing all these years. Maybe I would have been able to see their value if I'd considered them a type of therapy, if nothing else."

"What about hugs and glitter?"

"Hugs are the best therapy around. Glitter, not so much," I said wryly.

She beamed at me. "Hey, three out of four's not bad."

"Aaaand there's my optimistic Sunshine."

Poppy giggled and began to skip cheerfully along the path leading to the bunker's trapdoor. "You know, this Stroll Patrol gig is a good idea. We should do this more often."

Feeling light and giddy, I laughed and began to skip alongside her. "I'm game. My foster dads and I used to go almost every night, unless there was a storm or something. We'd do a circle of the village to unwind on the way home from a social event, or go out after dinner, to help with digestion. Ah, those were good times…"

-O-

Her boyfriend's eyes went unfocused as he thought back to happier days. Poppy was glad to hear the nostalgia in his tone. It's nice to know that not everything about his trollhood was unhappy.

"…Then we'd go home and I'd take my bath and then they'd tuck me into bed…" Branch reminisced.

"Bath. Oh, right!" Poppy said excitedly. "I can't wait 'til we take our bath together. It's gonna be so much fun! When's the last time you took a bath with someone?"

"Not since I was little. My foster dads and I would sometimes take one together at our favorite spot along the river. It was nice. So, would you like to take our bath first when we get home, or would you rather finish working on our hobbies first?"

"Ooo, tough choice. I'm looking forward to taking a bath with you but I also really want to update the scrapbook of our first date to include our first kiss. And your first hairbloom. Our whole first Stroll Patrol, really. I love that name, by the way."

She so full of high spirits now that she was in full babble-mode, and Branch chuckled.

"Sounds good. But today wasn't our first date," he corrected her. "Not our official one, anyway."

She put her hands on her hips. "A date is a date, Branch. We spent all day together. We've even kissed."

"Well, yeah, I know." Branch looked flustered but insisted, "There's a difference. An unofficial date doesn't count."

"Count toward what? Why does it need to be official? And what is 'official', exactly?"

"It would be an official date if everyone – all the trolls - knew about us. And…" He trailed off and mumbled something.

"What was that?"

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "And they approved of us."

His shoulders slumped. Poppy didn't insult his intelligence by pretending she didn't know what he meant. She was silent for a few moments, thinking about how she'd had to convince Doctor Plum and Acorn that Branch had changed, then said gently, "Listen, Branch, I know that not everyone will understand what I see in you, but that's just because they don't know you very well yet."

"And that's my fault, I know." He sighed. "I just wonder if I can ever make up for all the lost time. I'd like to tell everyone eventually, but I – I just worry about how everyone will react. Because the thing is, Poppy, I may be happy now, but I'm still me. Yeah, I like to party and have fun now, but I also like long, quiet hours by myself, reading or gardening or working on some project. I need those times, Poppy, to center myself. To recuperate from stress and recharge my mental batteries." He sighed again. "I don't expect you to understand."

She knew Branch still saw his retreat from troll society as a personal failure. Even though he shouldn't. Like Finetune said, he did what he had to do to feel better. And if being understood makes him feel better, I can do that.

"No, I get it."

He looked up at her, his eyes wide.

"As much of a people-person as I am, even I like to be alone occasionally. Most trolls do, you know. Why do you think that all of our friends have their own pods, even though they could easily share?"

He stared at her, his face taking on a thoughtful look as he mulled over her words. "I never thought of it like that. Maybe I'm not so weird after all."

"Oh, trust me, you're still weird." Poppy laughed at his look of surprise and winked at him, slipping her arm around his waist. "But you're my weirdo. My handsome, brilliant, eccentric weirdo, and I love you just the way you are."

"Gee, thanks, Poppy," he said in a flat tone, then chuckled. "Well, even though you're overly-idealistic, hyperactive, and obsessed with glitter, I love you, too."

Poppy laughed as he put his own arm around her and they walked along in comfortable silence for a minute before she declared, "I'm still counting today as our first date."

He didn't look at her, but she saw him smile. She knew his silence meant he agreed.

Author's Note:

Thanks, as always, to WildKat25 for helping to clarify my logic 😊

It may not seem in-character for Poppy to keep obsessing about Branch still being vulnerable, since she's supposed to be the more optimistic one of the pair, but I gave her some strong reasons. First, right now she herself is emotionally unstable due to her trauma-induced anxiety, and she's focusing that anxiety on worrying about Branch. Second, the more she finds out about Branch's past, the more of his suffering she becomes aware of, and the more guilty she feels. And third, Doctor Plum's well-meant warning about Branch possibly 'having a relapse' has put even more pressure on our fair queen to not mess up her budding relationship with her handsome, sensitive poet.

In my Author's Note from chapter 35 I mention: "I hope it doesn't sound too redundant to have recurring themes. For example, Branch feeling free to show his tender side, and Poppy sensing that feeling of freedom, or each of them being glad that the other is feeling good inside. Poppy letting Branch know she wants him and Branch loving the fact that he is wanted. The idea here is that they have begun to attune to each other's wants and needs, and want to meet them. This is what should happen in healthy relationships."

I just want to add that it's not just romantic relationships – friendships and work relationships count, too. In unhealthy relationships, it's often just one person's needs that are being met while the other person's are not considered important, either by the person themselves, or by their significant other, or sometimes by both.

This is often the result of a perceived imbalance of power in a relationship. In a healthy relationship, partners need to be equals, and stay that way overall, or it won't be a happy, healthy one. If one person is perceived to be "the important one", like how Poppy is queen, by one or both members of the couple, it would be easy for her to learn to ignore his feelings if she could find good enough reasons to justify it to herself, to him, and to the other trolls. It's called "being taken for granted". This process can take years or even decades, so it's something to always keep in mind when in a long-term relationship.

To give a common example, many people are raised with the idea of "the man of the family" or "the head of the household" – that someone, usually the man, is the "important one" and that it's the woman's job to support him and her family, and give up her own wants and needs and dreams. It can be hard for her to stand up for herself, especially if other people think she is wrong for going against what society expects from her. But if she doesn't expect her partner to consider her when he makes decisions that affect her, it will be far too easy for both her and her partner to fall into the habit of only thinking about his needs.

I saw this in my own home. I once asked my mother, "Do you have any hobbies?" and she said, "No." She was not happy with her life, as you might expect, and that role-modeling influenced me so negatively to the point where only now am I wondering if there are relationships out there that might actually be fulfilling, like what you see on TV or read about in books. That is why I'm writing Picturebook Romance, to explore that idea and get used to it.

So in my version of the trolls' society, young trolls are literally taught in school what healthy relationships are supposed to look like. Part of Poppy's issues in PBR are that she is trying to balance what society expects from her (being a good leader) with what her responsibilities are to Branch now that she is in a personal relationship with him, one that she expects will be long-term (romance, marriage, having a family together).

Branch can actually help her with some of this. Branch avoided a lot of his school-related relationship-education because of the discomfort and pain it caused him, but due to living with sixteen foster families, he's actually had a lot of real-life experience with seeing the way many caring families treat each other. An unconventional education, you might say. 😊

Not to say that he doesn't have his own (abandonment) issues to work through, but having a partner who is honestly willing to meet his needs and stay with him long-term is what he needs most, and he has that with Poppy. He just needs to learn to believe it, and that's something Poppy can help him with.