-O-

Picturebook Romance

A Trolls fanfic

By Dreamsinger

Chapter Forty-Nine

It's Okay to Dream

Okay, so all I have to do is stay in my bunker for the entire month. No contact with Poppy, no blurting out love confessions, no awkward rejections. No social humiliation.

"No problem."

Easier said than done.

I spent the first day trying to avoid anything that reminded me of Poppy, only to realize that it was impossible. Everything seemed to remind me of her.

I'd never noticed before that my bunker was full of gifts she'd given me over the years. Some of it was nice to look at but utterly useless, like glitter-painted stones and colorful wall hangings made from yarn, cloth, or paper. More useful items included wicker baskets, vases that had originally come with fresh flowers in them that I now used as storage containers, scented soaps, and framed photos of Poppy and her closest friends, the ones she called "our" friends. I didn't want to admit how much it comforted me to be able to see their smiling faces when I was feeling especially lonely.

One thing Poppy was good at was choosing foods I liked that wouldn't spoil, such as airtight jars of nuts, candy, granola, powdered cocoa, and cheese. She gave me lots of art supplies, too; paints and brushes, graphite and colored pencils, beads and cord, sculpting clay, and, of course, glitter (ugh) and other scrapbooking supplies.

There was also my collection of invitations from Poppy. I hadn't kept every invitation – I doubted even my bunker had enough space to hold that many – but the ones I had, I treasured. Looking at them never failed to fill me with affection for their caring, if often irritating, creator. Everywhere I looked, my trollhood friend was there. Sometimes in unexpected ways.

One of my water pipes had developed an odd noise; a sharp, metallic tapping sound that came and went. Probably just a small rock that had gotten stuck in the copper pipe. I hadn't minded the sound; to me it had always sounded a little like Poppy's cowbell. Maybe for that reason, I hadn't gotten around to cleaning it out yet. It hadn't been a problem so far- the water would just flow around the rock – so, other than catching myself involuntarily nodding my head to the beat, I hadn't really paid much attention to it. But now, every time I heard it I felt an automatic compulsion to leave my bunker, to go see what she wanted.

Time and again I would find myself standing under the trap door that led to the outer world, a hair's breadth away from seeking out my pretty princess and gushing love poetry to her in front of the entire village. Every time I caught myself there I would clench my fists and grumble to myself as I stalked away, until finally I couldn't stand it any more. I let out a wordless cry of frustration and ripped out the entire pipeline in that section for replacement.

After that I stomped around my bunker for a while, fuming, until it occurred to me that I could try distracting myself with some of my hobbies. I've got all these craft supplies and plenty of free time. Might as well not waste them.

I tried sculpting first. It was going well until I realized that the troll I'd shaped was a figure of Poppy standing with her hands clasped in front of her chest and her lips pursed cutely, asking me for a kiss. I yelled again. "Aw, come on! Seriously?"

Unfortunately, she was so cute that I couldn't quite bring myself to ball the clay up and start over, so I stuck her out of sight behind a stack of crates in another room.

I didn't dare try scrapbooking, of course, so I chose to switch gears and mend some clothes next, only to totally freak out when I realized I'd absent-mindedly embroidered "Poppy loves Branch" on the seat of a pair of boxer shorts. I yelped and flung the shorts into the scrap pile, pulled them out, debated changing it to "Poppy loves Brunch" or something else equally random before I dropped them on the floor, put my face in my hands and groaned. Loudly.

In the end, I buried the shorts at the bottom of a box of old trollhood clothes, reasoning, Hormones. It's gotta be the hormones. I'm not thinking clearly. I'll pick out the stitching later, after this frofi thing is over. Breathing hard, from distress and sheer embarrassment, I turned away and wandered restlessly around my bunker for a while.

I kept walking past the photo of a happy, grinning Poppy and glancing longingly at it. "You're driving me crazy; you know that, right?"

"Hey, don't adorably beam at me like that. It's not funny."

"If only you weren't such a wonderful, sweet- Great. Now I'm talking to inanimate photos on the wall. This is your fault, you know."

After the fourth pass through my bunker, I noticed my easel leaning against a wall and made an abrupt decision. "I know; I'll paint some landscapes. I always find that relaxing."

I set up my easel and got to work, only to find that none of my compositions looked right without a pair of pink and gray figures somewhere in there. Cloud-watching on a mushroom, maybe, or having a picnic amidst the grassfronds. It's fine, I told myself. We've done that before, as friends. That's what we are. Friends. I felt a little more at ease then.

In a fit of creativity, I even painted a picture of myself standing in front of my easel with a dreamy expression on my face, my paintbrush extended toward the whimsical images of Poppy and myself as two cute, quirky, fur-covered trolls with long tails that ended in big, fluffy tufts. We were snuggled together on a sunny platform high up in a tree, our bodies wrapped around one another's, sharing matching expressions of bliss. It was adorable. And very…intimate.

Branch, are you still thinking about courting her? It's a frofi, remember? Only a frofi.

Relief and disappointment kept slinging me back and forth like a ball over a net. On the one hair, it had been a relief to realize that my feelings for Poppy weren't real. I wouldn't have the stress of dealing with being social again just to be with her, after three years of glorious peace and quiet.

On the other hair, on some level I'd been looking forward to having the one thing my bunker couldn't provide: companionship. I'd really liked the idea of being with Poppy, so much so that I'd even been willing to consider the horrors of socializing, just to be with her. And now, after getting my hopes up, to have it all be for nothing?

Actually, it was worse than nothing. This whole fiasco had inadvertently brought my attention to a problem I hadn't consciously been aware of; that I, Branch, lover of solitude, was lonely. And there was nothing I could do about it.

Poppy didn't love me, other than as a friend. And my feelings for her were a lie.

I gave a sigh that was more of a whimper and ran a hand through my hair. "Maaan, what am I doing? What do I have to do to get her out of my mind? At this rate, this month is gonna last foreverrrr."

Wiped out by the whole crazy day, I decided to go to bed early that night.

I slept surprisingly well. I met Poppy in my dreams and we chased each other through a meadow of bright red poppy flowers, laughing and teasing one another. Then I caught up to her, and she took my face in her hands and kissed me. As our lips touched, an ethereal melody began to play in the background, beyond a soft blue sky decorated with cowbells, cupcakes, and rainbows, bright butterflies, and candy-colored clouds.

And I was floating right along with them. Literally. So was Poppy, whose luxurious hair I held with my own. Brilliant magenta entwined with deep black in lazy spirals as we drifted blissfully through the air. I sent out a hair tendril and pulled us toward a chocolate cupcake that was bigger than we were, where we fed each other handfuls of scrumptious caramel icing. Each of us got icing on our noses, which we thoughtfully cleaned for one another – with our lips.

Oh, how I enjoyed that delightful dream. It was a dream I never really forgot, a beautiful dream that served to inspire me when a certain pink princess with caramel-covered hands challenged me to show her more affection.

Poppy got a playful look in her eye and launched herself from the cupcake, flying away and giving me a coy come-and-get me look over her shoulder. I whooped as I took off after her, my swelling joy filling the air with bursts of hairbloom sparkles in every color of the rainbow and then some. Poppy led me on a merry chase; the most exciting game of hide-and-seek I'd ever played, but her own hairbloom sparkles kept giving her away. Or maybe she just wanted to be caught.

As she peeked around the giant candy cane she was hiding behind, I swooped around behind her and scooped her up in my arms, twirling us in giddy circles. She laughed and threw her arms around my neck, our hair streaming bright-colored sparkles behind us.

Then our lips met, and everything in the world was right. The last of my doubt was gone, vanished in the wake of a thousand magic sparkles. I knew just what I wanted; I had only to ask.

I set my love gently on her feet and tenderly met her gaze.

Would you care to dally, my sweet?

I saw my own tenderness reflected back at me before she nodded, put her hands to my cheeks and drew me in for a slow, sweet kiss. Then her hands were on my back, hugging me close. As I put my arms around her, our clothes melted away. This felt safe and familiar. I'd been dreaming of her for weeks now, looking forward to her nightly affections as we softly stroked one another's bare bodies. It made me feel so loved and wanted, for the first time in my life. It was wonderful.

As gentle hands slid over soft, fuzzy skin, the same sense of warmth and caring I had come to associate with my Poppy dreams rose up and spread through my mind like gladnut butter, leaving me feeling mellow and relaxed as I gradually awoke the next morning. Even the fact that I was sprouting didn't bother me. I took care of myself in a placid, absentminded way, my sleepy thoughts still drifting through a tranquil wash of pastel colors.

Eventually I had the vague notion that I ought to get up and make some coffee, but I didn't feel like it just yet. Today felt special, for some reason.

Oh, right. I'm on vacation. That perked me up. And that means I can do what I want. With a good night's sleep behind me, I felt calmer; calm enough to ask myself the complicated question I'd avoided yesterday.

So what do I want?

"Well…"

I knew.

I had to admit to myself that whether or not it was practical, I just wanted to think about Poppy. I wanted to feel close to her. That's only natural when you have a frofi, isn't it? Fighting it was doing me no good; I was just ruining my vacation and driving myself crazy.

"Besides," I reminded myself, "You had a crush once before, and you got over it. You'll get over this frofi, too." An idea struck me. "Say, maybe you can speed up the process. You just need to get her out of your system. Yeah. Focus exclusively on Poppy for a while until your interest naturally wanes, and you move on to other things. You've got an entire month, after all."

Suddenly a month didn't seem like enough time at all.

I got up and started my usual vacation preparations. Even though I didn't participate in the Festival itself, Frolic Festival season had always been necessary and welcome in my life. It was a break from the endless round of chores; a pressure valve that helped keep me healthy, just as much as exercise, good food and adequate sleep did. So it was easy to fall back into my usual routine.

Normally I used the time to make things I needed; anything that didn't involve dangerous tools or heavy machinery. So, I sewed and knitted. I sculpted mugs, pitchers, pots and other containers, although I waited to fire them in my outdoor kiln until after Festival season had passed and I could be sure my concentration was good enough to monitor the process without anything exploding.

I cooked elaborate meals to use up my oldest supplies. I also made more sweets than usual. I tried new recipes, especially ones made with the special heartflower berries. Festival or no Festival, it was still a good habit to maintain, just in case. Besides, the berries really were delicious.

This year, with a pretty pink princess as my muse, I enjoyed myself a lot more than usual as I sketched and painted dozens of portraits of her. I filled my journal with clever words to please the ear, often while laying contentedly on a float in my bathing pool.

Every Festival season I spent a lot of time just relaxing in my pool, enjoying quiet instrumental music under the light of the scenic glow garden I'd cultivated on the ceiling. I would set up a temporary, disposable pallet there, with a leaf-blanket and some soft cushions. There was plenty of room for a table, books, and craft supplies to keep me from being bored.

The bathing chamber itself had been designed to be a warm, comfortable haven, where it was easy to take care of my seasonal urges with a minimum of mess and bother. I'd specifically designed the pool to accommodate those times of the year when I tended to want to swim and get clean more often than usual. To that end, the pool was designed to clean itself, being continuously replenished with fresh, crystal-clean water from the underground river.

I took advantage of the time to do some enhanced personal grooming as well. I emptied everything out of my hair; including, with some embarrassment, the gifts I'd been planning to lavishly bestow upon Poppy, then washed and conditioned my hair thoroughly. I rubbed my body with revitalizing skin treatments and moisturizers, especially those rather delicate places that could get a little chafed at this time of year if I wasn't careful. The gifts I promptly returned back to their usual containers, out of sight and out of mind.

I curled up among the cushions and read romance stories. I wrote stories, too. Some of it was awful, but I also wrote some of my best work during this time of year.

Of course, this year all my writing featured a certain perky pink sprite of a troll. I noticed, though, that when I tried to read favorite old stories about other trolls in love, I had a hard time concentrating. Now that I actually had someone I was interested in myself. Someone whose rose-colored eyes had once turned toward me, or so I'd hoped.

Had Poppy ever had a crush on me, the year before last? It drove me crazy, but it wasn't like I could ask her, and I wasn't close enough to any of her friends to ask them. It was one of the drawbacks of being such a recluse. I could compensate somewhat for the gaps in my information network through sneaking around the village, and judicious use of my periscopes and listening tubes, but once in a while an important nugget of information escaped my attention. And this was one big nugget.

How did Poppy feel about me? Would I ever know? Would she ever be part of my life?

Would any troll?

For the first time in days, a surge of uneasiness made my stomach clench. Maybe I should go to the Festival. Maybe I shouldn't make the mistake of waiting, like I did with my first crush. I might lose any chance I have of being with Poppy, or finding someone. That's what everyone keeps saying, that I'm making a mistake…

Upset now, I actually got up to go out, then passed a mirror and noticed my hair was still a mess after my last swim. I stopped to fix it, and then noticed the rest of me. It threw me for a second. The Branch in the mirror didn't look lovable at all; he looked creepy. Agitated. Desperate for attention.

A line from a recent song I'd heard popped into my head. 'Somebody, anybody, love me!'

Automatically, my nose wrinkled as I let out a derisive pfft. "Please. That is exactly what I don't want. Melodrama. Ugh."

Thankfully, the sarcasm cleared my mind, which helped me calm down. Even a frofi couldn't stop me from critical thinking if I felt like it. The other trolls had been right about that, at least.

I might not have had my foster dads anymore to calm me down when I got upset, but I could hear their influence in the kind but firm tone I used as I told myself, "Come on, Branch. You won't lose Poppy. You know how much she likes you. She's your friend. She trusts you, and she needs you."

"Yeah," I said softly. "I know." I felt better then.

I decided to make a promise to myself. "Okay. Maybe you can't approach her right now, but as soon as the season ends, when you're over this frofi, you'll go and see her first thing. She'll be glad to hang out with you. You just have to be patient until then."

Yes, everywhere I looked, Poppy was there. Now, I found that fact comforting. It proved that she was still a part of my life, as she always had been.

-O-

"You know, Branch, considering how lonely you were back then, I'm kind of surprised that you didn't take advantage of the Frolic Festival to…" Poppy blushed. "Well, make some…connections…with other trolls."

I felt my own cheeks flush, but I answered her honestly. "Well, it's complicated, Poppy. Mating - I mean frolicking – may not be that complicated, but courting is."

-O-

I knew about mating. I'd seen enough animals mating in the forest to understand the mechanics of it all. In, out. Not particularly complicated.

From what I little remembered, my relationship classes had focused mostly on feelings, and on courtship rituals designed to get another troll interested in you. 'If you want another troll to like you, you must have good personal grooming, be a good listener, be supportive, and flirt with them.' Blah, blah, blah, fine, I get it, I used to think, rolling my eyes, although in the back of my mind I had a hard time picturing myself wanting to flirt with anyone. Bored and uncomfortable with it all, eventually I stopped attending the classes entirely.

I told myself I didn't need them. I wasn't interested in dating or frolicking yet, and in any case, I knew about relationships, too. I'd seen how Leafe and Cherry Blossom had courted one another, and my foster dads had flirted with each other all the time. I'd seen plenty of other examples, too, especially during Festival season.

I was sure I knew what to do, if I decided it was what I wanted. Dating wasn't really as complicated as the other trolls wanted to make it seem. They all seemed to want to push the melodrama to the max, just for the excitement of it all.

Frolicking was supposed to be fun, like any other game, but from past experience I knew that I had a hard time enjoying most games, just like anything else done purely for "fun". I did enjoy my sprouting sessions, but then, that was really just a physical need, not a social one. It felt good, but that was about it. No fun, no romance, no affection. No feelings.

And that suited me fine. I wasn't interested in dating-drama or finding a frolic partner, not if it meant getting involved with feelings and flirting and all that silly, mushy, time-wasting stuff. I could easily take care of my body's needs on my own. I didn't need anyone else's help for that.

Although I didn't want to admit it to myself, the real reason, of course, was that I couldn't afford to get too attached to another troll. I didn't want to ever end up in a situation where I felt like I needed anyone else in my life. I knew more than anyone how easy it was to lose someone.

-O-

"I told myself I knew what I was doing, but as I found out over the last six months, courting someone is harder than I thought," I told Poppy, whose sympathetic gaze made me want to open up to her in a way I was still getting used to. It was a strange feeling, but a good one.

"Also, after over three years away from the village, I'd gotten used to believing that I was entirely self-sufficient. The idea that I had needs I couldn't meet on my own scared me. Totally unacceptable."

"Needs? You mean frolicking?"

"No. Emotional dependence. The need for love and companionship. You see, the idea of being dependent on someone else for anything brought back all the feelings of helplessness from my trollhood. One tragedy, Poppy, and that connection is gone. Forever. And no matter what you do, you can't get it back." I felt my jaw harden grimly.

"Oh." She looked down, and her ears drooped a little. "I can see why you'd have wanted to avoid dating, then."

I'd been thinking of my grandma, but it was true that this could also apply to her. She hadn't meant to choke on that piece of popcorn, but even so…

Still, I didn't want her to feel bad. "Well, that wasn't the only reason. You see, dating offended my sense of dignity." I gave her a teasing grin to lighten the mood. "I wouldn't have been caught dead acting so sappy in public."

Poppy snerked and rolled her eyes, her ready joy lighting up the dark bedroom like the Sunshine she was. "Oh, Pookie, what am I going to do with you?"

I grinned. "Love me?" I flirted, enjoying this little game between us; a game I would never tire of, no matter how long I lived.

Her eyes sparkled playfully. "Yes! If doing this," she leaned over to share a long smooch with me, "doesn't offend your sense of dignity."

"Oh, I think I can learn to live with it," I joked lightly.

Poppy laughed and rolled from her stomach onto her side, mirroring my pose by propping herself up on her elbow so that we were facing one another. "Okay, I've gotta ask, Branch. Since you had your colors this time around, did the last Frolic Festival feel any different to you?"

Before I answered, I checked her face for signs of jealousy, but her bright eyes merely reflected her lively curiosity and love of gossip. Well, I could understand that. I'd always kept tabs on her love life, too. Or rather, her lack of one, which had both relieved and concerned me. I'd always known that she hadn't seemed to have any serious attachments to other trolls - no official boyfriends or girlfriends - but it had surprised me when she told me yesterday that she'd never been intimate with anyone at all. After all, she wasn't exactly a loner like me – or rather, like the old me.

The new me, on the other hand…

"Oh, yeah." I nodded. "Definitely. I had more hottie dreams than usual, and they started earlier than I'm used to. And I noticed the other trolls more. We have a lot of attractive trolls in this village, you know. Especially a certain lovely pink queen."

"Aww, thank you." I was rewarded for my compliment with another kiss. Being Poppy's boyfriend was turning out to have all kinds of perks.

I added thoughtfully, "Usually it takes a good week or so for the hormones to build up before I start having any symptoms. Maybe it's because I spent more time in the village this time around instead of holing up in my bunker for the month like I usually do. All those pheromones floating around in the air, you know?"

Poppy looked fascinated. "I never thought of it like that. I hope it wasn't too overwhelming for you."

"No. It was kind of awkward, but not scary or anything."

"So you weren't tempted to go to the Frolic Festival at all?"

"Oh, maybe a little. Actually, I had four different trolls invite me to go to the Festival with them." I couldn't help bragging a little, hearing the pride in my tone.

"Four offers?" Poppy broke out into a huge grin and booped my nose. "Look at you, Mister Popular. See? I told you you were sexy!"

I paused, surprised. "Huh. I didn't really think so at the time, but maybe."

"No 'maybe' about it! I should call you Captain Hottie from now on," she teased, drawing her hand down my chest and looking up at me through her lashes. I swallowed. I could feel the heat of her hand through my pajama top. Before I could decide what I should do about it, she pulled away to exclaim, "Wait, you got four offers, and you still didn't go?" She gave me sympathetic look. "Was it your anxiety?"

"Kind of, but really I just decided that I wasn't ready yet. Don't get me wrong, it was flattering, but I was still getting the hang of being social back then. I was still practicing my smile in the mirror, remember that?" I gave her a creepy leer, and she laughed.

"And I didn't reallywant any of them. So I turned them all down. Politely," I added before she could ask, giving her a snarky grin. "I told them had my eye on a certain someone," I winked at her, and she giggled, "and that I was hoping to share my first mating season with her."

Poppy dropped her head indignantly to one side, causing a piece of her bangs fall sideways and cover part of her eye. "That's sweet, but do you have to call it 'mating season'?"

I shrugged, amused. "Why not? I always have; you know that. That's literally what it is. All creatures have them, except maybe the bergens."

"I know, but… It just sounds so unromantic, like you could just do it with any troll. But there's so much more to it than that. You're missing the most important thing, sweetie." She reached out to press her hand against my chest again. "Love."

I felt the old urge to roll my eyes, but her warmth over my heart made it flutter in my chest as if my love was a butterfly, eager to be let free. And I wanted to be free; free to love her. Now that I finally could, I wanted to love Poppy more than I'd ever wanted anything in my life.

Gazing softly at her, I covered her hand with mine, pressing it to my heart before bringing her hand to my face so I could kiss the back of it. Slowly, I kissed my way around to her palm, and then began to move down the inside of her wrist, until I felt her shiver.

I looked up and met her gaze. My girlfriend's heavy-lashed eyes were big and dark. Dilated pupils, I noted in the back of my mind. And her breathing was heavier, too. Signs of arousal. I guess did pick up a few things from those classes after all, I thought in mild amusement.

Some instinct made me suck lightly on the skin of her wrist, and her expression instantly went giddy, her mouth hanging open as if she might drool at any moment. I let out a puff of amusement through my nose, and at the touch of my breath on her skin, a high titter escaped her lips. I couldn't help but laugh, too. This is fun.

Then I tried to imagine doing this with another troll, and couldn't. "You're right, Poppy," I said quietly. "Love is important. Frolicking may be fun, but I have the feeling that love is what will make it special."

I gave her hand a final kiss and laid it gently on the bed, then touched her face, tenderly stroking the stray hair away from her eyes. My girlfriend made a soft little sound of appreciation. Her eyes were liquid pools of adoration that made me feel just as melty inside as the love-struck trolls I used to scorn.

I guess it was my turn to feel humbled by love.

-O-

Part of me had been flattered by all the Festival offers. I'd never had anyone pay that much attention to me before. I could have taken one or more of them up on their offer; but the next Frolic Festival after we came back from the Bergentown adventure began just five weeks later. Even with my colors back, the whole idea of anything involving intimacy and affection still freaked me out a little.

Besides, I'd assumed that the trolls who offered were just trying to be nice. As one of the heroes who'd helped Poppy save the village, I'd gotten used to getting compliments from random trolls for no particular reason, plus a lot of well-meant but insensitive comments about how my new colors made me seem more "normal".

Presumably, that meant I was a little more attractive to the average troll than I had been when I was gray. Anything new and different tended to get a lot of interest in Troll Village, so I told myself it was only logical that I'd get some offers at Festival time. It was flattering, but I'd really only had eyes for Poppy, who'd seemed oblivious to my interest. We were best friends, but a lifetime of avoiding being close to others had me stuttering like crazy every time I tried to talk to her about how I really felt. I couldn't exactly woo her with poetry when I could barely put two words together.

In the end, I'd lost my nerve and reverted to old habits, secluding myself comfortably in my bunker for the rest of the month. It's just too soon. Besides, I don't need to hurry – it's not like Creek is still around to give me competition. I'd spent the next few months trying to figure out ways to get close to her and move past friendship, only for her to beat me to it in the end.

As I'd expected, the other trolls' interest in me faded pretty quick when it turned out that I was still the same troll I'd always been, especially when my colors gradually muted somewhat from their initial brilliant intensity. Ultramarine-blue hair became dark purple, and vivid aqua-blue skin lightened to aquamarine. My few glitter freckles became almost unnoticeable, unless I was blushing.

At first, Poppy, my friends, and I had worried that I was going to gradually fade to gray again, but they all made an effort to stay in my life, and I made a conscious choice to be more social. To sing and dance and hug and play. I wasn't so enthusiastic about hugging at first, but over time I gradually got used to not only being hugged, but hugging back. Six months in, I was still working on enjoying group hugs, though.

It paid off. I kept the friends I'd made, and my colors stabilized at a level that suited me, still colorful, but not garish. Occasionally they'd even liven up a bit when I was really letting loose, throwing myself into the trolly spirit of things with no worries at all.

My outlook was brighter than it had ever been. I still saw the world as a dangerous place, but I had more confidence in being able to handle threats, especially since I now felt I could get some help from the community that I was now a true part of. Together, we were safer.

Togetherness. It was a strange feeling, learning to put my trust in others. I was still working on it, but I did my best to be like my friends and lean into that feeling. I discovered that, mostly, when you had a clear idea of the type of help you needed and you asked politely, people were usually willing to step up and provide it.

I remembered that when I was going through my tumultuous trollhood, my trust issues hadn't been because the other trolls hadn't wanted to help me; it was just that none of them had known how. I'd needed the psychological expertise of the trolls who wrote my family's mental health and social-skills books; if for no other reason, because they'd helped me feel like less of a freak. I'd felt much better knowing that other trolls in the past had had the same problems that I did.

All in all, I finally felt like I was becoming a true troll at last. I was only sorry it had taken me so long to make the choice to truly give being social a chance.

-O-

As my season progressed, my thoughts and emotions went all over the place. Highs and lows. Contentment and doubt. Giddiness and angst by the cartload.

I found myself playing a lot of board games, especially my favorite roleplaying adventure game, Trial Run. I'd always liked strategy games, and being able to imagine going on all sorts of adventures without any actual risk.

And if my storylines had more elements of romance than usual, that was only natural. It was Festival season, after all. Whether or not I'd ever participated in Frolic Festival events like the ever-popular kissing games, it was perfectly natural to be interested in kissing, and frolicking, too. Leafe had always assured me of that.

I turned my sculpting skills to capturing Poppy's cuteness in clay form. I gave each statue of Poppy a corresponding Branch statue, too; each pair with a different theme. Then I got the idea to whittle and paint some game figures.

Over the years, I had created several pairs of Branch and Poppy game figures, everything from magic-wielding mages, super heroes, and detectives, to animal-like trolls with fur and tails, or feathers and wings. Poppy and I were often partners, moving as one with the roll of the dice, although sometimes Poppy was a character I would meet when one of us rescued the other during a quest. We would always fall in love and share a kiss by the end of the game.

This year I was inspired to create a bunch of new game figures. Monsters, magical fantasy creatures, talking trees, dancing flowers, and of course, trolls; including more Poppy figures, each with her loyal Branch partner. I also made figures of many other trolls, including Leafe, Cherry Blossom, Acorn, my dads, Laurel and her parents, and Poppy's friends. Even Creek, although I gave him an evil, sneaky expression. He was usually the bad guy whom nobody liked.

I even built a miniature version of my bunker, and a Troll Village, and spent hours contentedly having the characters snub Creek to play with me instead. They would help me create elaborate traps, or build mighty fortresses to defend the village from bergens and other marauding forest creatures. The Creek figure was soon grubby and stained, his two-toned hair matted and bedraggled since I liked to see him develop an attack of clumsiness and "accidentally" fall into a mud puddle (a bowl of mud I kept under his pod). This conveniently happened every time he said something snarky to my character, and I would use my hair to make all the characters point and laugh, and say it served him right.

Sometimes he was the damsel in distress. My character, sometimes with Poppy's character, would rescue him, crying and sniveling, from the bergens or other monsters. The other characters would praise me and laugh at him. Poppy and I would kiss, and Creek would say something rude and stomp away, only to fall into the mud puddle. I found this hilarious every time. Poppy and I would laugh, and kiss again.

As my hormone levels increased, my board games were interrupted more often by the necessity of taking care of my body's physical needs. That was normal, although I did notice that even though I had decided that my season had started earlier than usual, for the first week I didn't have as many sprouting sessions as I was expecting. That bothered me for a while, but my concern went away when the rest of the month went pretty much like usual. Other than that my interest in those trolls I normally found appealing had disappeared, in favor of Poppy.

She would be a good partner to frolic with. The first time I thought that, it surprised me. It had been a long time since I'd pictured another troll playing that kind of game with me. I hadn't had the interest in a while. Part of me was embarrassed to picture myself being so intimate with someone, but I was also curious. I wonder what kind of partner she'd be – bossy and competitive, like she usually is? Playful and flirty? Or would she be more...I don't know, mellow? Loving and sweet.

After that, I sometimes used the little board game figures to practice courting her, flirting with her, or even frolicking with her, if she accepted my advances. I enjoyed creating an extensive array of courting activities, along with a system that rated their effectiveness and the degree to which they made me irresistible.

My character would woo hers with bold, heroic actions, sincere, thoughtful gifts, and soft-spoken, heartfelt poetry. I especially liked the poetry. I often had to stop the game when inspiration hit in order to write down a poem in my journal. I came up with a lot of awesome new poems that month.

Sometimes Poppy's character would fall in love with mine first, and court me. It gave me a warm, tumbling sensation in my belly to imagine being the object of someone's desire. To have someone care enough to pay such intimate, affectionate attention to me. As my friend, Poppy had always paid more attention to me than most trolls did, but this was different. A strange and wondrous different, but not a bad-different.

Like the time over a year ago, when we had all those pleasant picnics together, game-Poppy would come to see me, and say nice things to me. She would hold hands with me, wrap her hair lovingly around me, and sing to me. She would hug me and say the kinds of things I had always wanted the real Poppy to say.

"Out of all the trolls in the world, I like you the best."

"Sorry, guys, I want to go play with Branch. Maybe later."

"I like your bunker better than a pod. I want to live here with you. In fact, I decree that from now on, all trolls should live in bunkers."

"You're so smart, and strong, and brave, and handsome…"

"You were right, and I should have listened to you all along."

"I love you, Branch."

I'd admired many other trolls over the years, but loving Poppy went beyond anything I'd ever experienced. I could see why everyone talked about sweaty palms, pounding hearts and not being able to sleep. I often found myself working through the night to complete a poem, a painting or a new game figure, down to the last, intricate detail, barely noticing the lack of sleep. My brain was swimming in floaty, feel-good love-hormones that made me feel amazing. Invincible and full of energy, like I would never need to sleep again. Maybe I would have tried that at some point, but I looked forward to seeing my dream-girl too much.

As the month progressed, sometimes in my dreams Poppy and I went farther than just touching. Sometimes we frolicked. No, we made love. Sometimes it was slow and gentle, sometimes wild and joyful. Frofi or not, being in love was the most incredible, thrilling experience of my life.

I'd been in love once before, when I was fifteen, but that time in my life had been fraught with confusion, worry, self-doubt. Worse, it was the ten-year anniversary of our escape from the bergens. I'd begun constructing my secret bunker by then. I'd put myself under tremendous pressure to get the basic setup done, fanatically convinced that the bergens would show up on Trollstice, their vicious claws tearing through the village like knives through raw meat. I'd been in no frame of mind to do more than momentarily savor the experience of having a crush on someone whom I'd thought liked me back, but I'd put off doing anything about it until it was too late.

This time around, I was settled safely into my bunker. I could afford to be whimsical. I could afford to have silly, harmless dreams. The bergens were the last thing on my mind.

Maybe it was just my hormones talking, but there were times when I got so caught up in the romance of it all that I would entertain frivolously optimistic thoughts. I wonder if Poppy would ever want to go to a Frolic Festival with me someday for real? Just for the Festival. We could be Festival partners. I wouldn't ask to be her boyfriend or anything like that, unless she wanted me to be.

I knew that when trolls were young, frolic partners, especially Frolic Festival partners, were more like playmates, at least until two trolls became a serious couple. Then the game took on new, more intimate depth, and casual partners lost their appeal. Married trolls were strongly bonded and preferred their own lovers to all others.

I kind of wish now that I hadn't always spent every Festival in my bunker. I'm nineteen. Would she think it's weird that I haven't had a girlfriend yet? Or even a frolic partner?

Leafe had once told me that there were many trolls like me who didn't feel the need to frolic just for the sake of frolicking. They wanted to share the experience with someone extra-special to them. It was just that, being more open and trusting than I was, most trolls had had at least a few sweethearts by the time they were my age. Leafe had even married Cherry Blossom when he was my age, and Cheery had been just three years older. Although in that respect, it was my two friends who were the outliers. Most trolls didn't settle down with a life partner until their late twenties, or even later.

At any rate, I imagine Poppy's probably had lots of invitations to frolic in the past year or two. I bet she'd be glad to teach me what she's learned. With her, it might even be…fun.

Author's Note:

One of the paintings Branch paints is inspired by an utterly adorable Broppy fanfic called Fuzzy Love by Crowneprince on the Archive of Our Own fanfiction site, where the trolls have fluffy fur, tufted tails, and act a little more like dogs/cats/birds; extra playful, with oh-so-charming courting behavior. 😊 I love this fic so much!

As we can see from his roleplaying games, Branch is, shall we say, a tad immature in some ways, lol. But actually, roleplaying games can be useful in helping to practice how to face real-life challenges. Whether he realizes it or not, Branch is mentally preparing himself to be closer to others, (and to be intimate with Poppy) which is a much healthier mindset than avoiding people or suppressing his own feelings until he has meltdowns. Plus, when I picture him making his and Poppy's characters kiss, he's just so cute! 😊

In Trolls World Tour Poppy said that Branch didn't trust anyone. It occurred to me that he might not even trust himself. That the main reason he never confessed to her before the first movie wasn't that he was gray or maybe felt he wasn't good enough to be with the princess, or any number of other reasons. I think it was because despite the fact that he must have had feelings for her – you don't write beautiful, heartfelt love poetry for no reason – he didn't trust his own feelings. He questioned them constantly and thus could never move forward and take action. 'Am I in love with her? I don't know. How do you know for sure?' He wanted definitive proof.

We even see this in TWT when he asks Poppy, "Why do I care about you more than anyone else in the world?" Possibly the worst love confession ever, lol. I think part of it was him just thinking out loud, and part was hoping she'd pick up on the fact that he loved her without him having to say anything more, but I also think he really wanted Poppy's feedback. She knew more about what it felt like to love others, after all.

So I decided that if Branch was sure of his feelings, he'd at least attempt to confess, as he did at the beginning of TWT and in chapter 48 of PBR, but if he was at all uncertain of his own true feelings, or of Poppy's toward him, he'd hold off. Wait to see how things played out. Even if it took years and years…