-O-

Picturebook Romance

A Trolls fanfic

By Dreamsinger

Chapter Fifty-Four

Connection

I was surrounded by dozens of cheerful, kindhearted trolls, but I felt so alone. Without Poppy, there was no one left I could talk to; no one who really understood me. Nobody I could turn to for advice, or comfort. I missed my dads so much. I missed Laurel. I missed Leafe and Cheery.

But even if they were here, I couldn't tell them about this, anyway. They'd all look at me the way Creek had – shocked, and disturbed. Dismayed that I would even consider myself a worthy partner for our future queen. And they'd be right to think that way. Getting together with Poppy was a foolish self-delusion, I told myself bitterly. You've known that from the start.

Besides, they were all living perfectly happy lives now. I wasn't a trolling anymore; I had no right to barge back in and drag them down into the depths of my misery and despair. They were free of me, and I wanted it that way. Because I loved them all.

Just like I loved Poppy. The best thing I could do for her now was to let her go free, too. I knew it; I felt it, deep in my gut.

Playtime was over.

As the last of my love-induced euphoria drained away, a familiar despondency took its place. Everything went dull and heavy. My ears drooped. My head hung low. The sounds of happy trolls around me seemed muffled and distant.

As I stared dully down at the ground, I felt water trickling down my cheeks. Great. It's starting to rain. Just what I need. I looked up to judge how close the storm was, only to see a clear, cloudless sky. What… I put a hand to my face, and sure enough, it came away damp.

Oh.

Something inside me broke. More tears followed, burning hot trails down my cheeks. Before I could stop it, a sob escaped my mouth. It wasn't loud, but the sound made me clamp my mouth shut. Grasping for control, I squeezed my eyes shut, clenched my fists at my sides, pulled in a deep breath and held it, shaking with the effort.

Anguish rose up, threatening to choke me. My heart was a caged animal, throwing itself at the walls, desperate to get out. Craving comfort from the friendly trolls all around me, but I clawed it back. Stuffed it down, choked off the plaintive cries that wanted to burst from my throat. Keep it together, Branch! Normal trolls don't act like this!

My chest was aching. My head began to throb. When I started hearing a high-pitched whine in my ears, I finally took a breath, ignoring the quick whirl of dizziness as fresh air rushed down my throat. I scrubbed a hand roughly over my wet face, wiping away the evidence. Then, rigidly under control, I turned to make my way home. I ignored everyone who spoke to me.

The closer I got to my bunker, the faster I moved. There was a storm coming, all right, churning behind my ribs. As I neared the entrance to my bunker, I broke into a run.

The moment I was safe in the welcoming darkness, I get go of my last shred of self-control, dropped to my knees and wept. Like the lost, lonely trolling I'd once been, I raised my voice in long, mournful, quavery howls of despair, giving voice to my grief, and my goodbyes.

Goodbye to the dream of a happy life with Poppy by my side. Goodbye to the fantasy of waking up to Poppy's smiling face. Goodbye to her kisses; goodbye to her love. Goodbye to the hope of being seen as someone special. To the hope of being seen at all.

-O-

A sniffle woke me from my mournful reverie to see a pair of shimmering rose-colored eyes gazing into mine. As I watched, a sparkling tear slid down her cheek, dampening the pillowcase.

"Oh, no. No, no, no, Poppy, don't cry," I said in dismay. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have told you. I shouldn't have-"

"Branch." She reached out to put her hand on my face, her eyes shadowed, but totally sincere. "Keep going. I want to hear everything."

I blinked. "Really? Still?"

She nodded firmly. "Yes. I wasn't there for you then, but I can be here for you now. I want to hear it all, Branch. I need to." Her gaze flicked downward for a moment, then she met my eyes again. "Unless you want to stop for now?"

"Oh, Poppy." A wave of warmth rushed through me, filling me like a hot air balloon. I felt like I could practically fly into the sky. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too, Branch. I love you so, so much." She caressed my cheek, then began to run her fingers through my hair, the way she knew I liked. It felt marvelous. I closed my eyes and let myself be loved.

After a minute, Poppy asked with a hint of wistfulness, "So did you want to stop for the night? It's up to you, sweetie."

I thought about it. "I might as well keep going. I didn't exactly leave off in a good place. I get the feeling that if I don't continue, you might have more bad dreams. I'd rather finish on a positive note, since in the end, something good did come out of it."

"Oh, good." She brightened at that. "I can't wait to hear about it." Like always, her smiling face made me smile, too. She rubbed at her thick wet lashes with the back of her hand. "Here, Poppy." I used the sleeve of my cotton pajama top to gently dry her eyes.

"Thanks." She kissed my nose and took my hands in hers. "Okay, Branch. I'm ready. I'm listening."

-O-

After I was all cried out, I sat dispiritedly in my small entry-cavern for a long time. The gray, gloomy half-light matched my mood perfectly. I felt awful. Exhausted, yet unable to relax. I was so stressed out that my body was like a massive hairball; a nasty, jangling tangle of fibers stretched to the breaking point, ready to snap at the least provocation. That's what you get for crying like a trolling. I hated crying. It never fixed what was wrong; all it did was make me feel even worse.

I sat there until I could no longer ignore my body's urgent call of nature, and even then I didn't bother to get up. I just used my hair to reach the lift handle and guide the platform to the bottom level of my bunker, then trudged down the hall to the bathroom. After I mechanically took care of business, I stuck my head under the faucet and let the cold water cool my sore, puffy face for a while.

In the mirror I saw that even my eyes were colorless. I stared numbly at myself for a few seconds, then turned away to peel off my clothes, dropping them carelessly on the floor. I didn't even bother to get a towel before heading into the pool room, although I did stop by the control panel to adjust the mix. The incoming hot water couldn't heal my heartbreak, but it would help to ease at least some of my physical discomfort, gently carrying me on a relaxing bed of liquid heat for as long as I wanted. At that thought, I felt myself smile a little. My bunker knew what I needed. It would take good care of me.

More hours passed as I lay on my back in the heated pool, listlessly gazing up at the glow garden and just letting myself drift. I listened to the delicate drips of water echoing off the walls, watched the water reflections ripple across the pool walls and floor, and let my mind stay numb and empty.

Eventually a trickle of energy began to return, and I realized I was hungry. It took great effort to stand up, lifting my heavy body free of the weightless luxury. I nearly gave in to the urge to let myself drop right back in again. Trolls could live without food for a day or two, right?

My growling stomach had other ideas. I might be devastated about Poppy, but it didn't care. It wanted to be fed, right now.

I sighed and left the pool room with a mental promise to be back later. I stopped to turn down the water mix temperature and then headed to the bathroom to towel off. Once I was dry, I felt better. I didn't bother with clothes. My bunker would be warm and steamy for a while anyway.

I took the lift up to the kitchen and looked around for something easy. My eye fell on the Poppy cookie jar I'd made a few months ago, during that first glorious rush of hormonal bliss. My heart twinged painfully and I turned away. I'd get something to eat from one of my storage rooms instead.

As I chewed on some fruit-and-nut granola bars, I drifted around my bunker, noting things that needed doing, but nothing called out to me. Later, I told myself. It can wait. I'll do it later.

I ended up going to bed early, grateful to end this awful day. The hot bath had done me some good, as my sleep was deep and dreamless.

Waking was hard. For just a moment I tried to remember what I was going to do with Poppy and the gang today, and then yesterday's storm came back to me. I groaned and hid my head under my pillow. I can't keep doing this to myself. Creek's right. I have no business even thinking about dating Poppy. She's the princess, the future leader of Troll Village. And I'm…I'm a mess.

I didn't like it, but I had to face the facts. Poppy cared about me, but she wasn't in love with me. No matter how much she meant to me, to her I was just one friend among many, many, many trolls. And not even a very friendly friend.

Whatever romantic interest she might have had in me had passed long ago. And with it, I'd lost what had probably been my last chance to find love. Ever. What were the odds that another troll would ever come to care for the un-fun, bunker-dwelling recluse with the grumpy, sarcastic nature, no talent for leadership, and questionable taste in clothes?

I didn't bother to calculate them.

I didn't leave my bunker for a long time. When Poppy inevitably showed up, I tried to ignore her knocking and shouts, pretending I wasn't home. I was afraid that if I saw her face I'd blurt out everything and end up crying at her feet, begging her to date me. I needed time to get over her, and get control of myself again. Eventually I told her I was working on a big, important project and would be too busy to see her for a while. She didn't seem happy, but she did leave me in peace.

If you call this peace. I didn't work on any projects at all. I couldn't seem to get started. I would spend hours wandering around my bunker, unable to settle down and work on something productive, or even sleep. I was restless, yet I had no energy. My feet dragged as I shuffled through my pod in a dull, dispirited fog of melancholy, looking for something to do, but nothing seemed worth the effort. All I wanted was to forget about the rest of the world, and thanks to my bunker, that was all too easy.

Weeks passed like years.

When I did have energy, massive frustration often engulfed me. "You ran out of clean clothes three days ago. Haven't you wasted enough time?" I scolded myself. "This is ridiculous, Branch. You weren't even dating the girl. Any other troll would be all cupcakes and rainbows by now, so stop being so lazy and get over her already!"

If I was vicious enough to myself, eventually I'd get up, clean a single outfit and hang it up to dry. I'd go feed the toastybugs and pick out some food for myself from my supplies, then collapse back on the couch. My backlog of uncompleted tasks grew into an enormous tower in my mind. So did my dirty laundry, the contents of my trash bins, and the reek of it all.

As my list of chores grew, so did my anxiety. Lurking in the back of my brain, looming over me in my dreams. But instead of spurring me to action as it normally did, I just felt overwhelmed. And guilty, for not being able to force myself to just get up and go back to my normal life. I felt stuck, bogged down in a dismal swamp full of gray mud. No matter what I did, it wouldn't help. Poppy and I could never be together, because Poppy was Poppy and I was…Branch. Nothing would make my situation better, so why try? Why even bother?

In the back of my mind, I was worried for a new reason. I'd never been down for this long before, mainly because Poppy would usually come along and pull me out of it, whether I wanted her to or not. But this time I was on my own, and I had no idea how to shake it off. Why am I like this? Why does everyone else get over things so much more easily than I do? Why can't I just roll with it, like they do?

I didn't know. It had always been this way. Other trolls had issues that troubled them sometimes, but not like mine. Their issues seemed to get resolved so easily, often with just an earnest conversation and a hug. But I was different. I was sure no other troll in history had ever felt like me. No one will ever understand me. No one.

-O-

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Poppy murmured.

An image of a small gray troll kneeling in desolation on the discolored floor of an old bergen pot passed through my mind. A troll who had learned the hard way that life wasn't always cupcakes and rainbows.

Once I'd thought I was unique in my suffering, but I knew better now. Not even Poppy was as perfect as I'd once imagined. She genuinely needed my support at times, just as I sometimes needed hers.

"Yeah. Anyone can fall into the depths of despair, and need a little help to find the happiness inside." I winked at her and gave her a playful grin. "Or a lot of help. And that's okay."

-O-

My mounting anxiety triggered nagging nightmares of losing Grandma, Poppy, and everyone else I loved, ripping me from my sleep and leaving me stumbling and bleary-eyed for hours. With no natural light, time ceased to have much meaning. I found myself seeking my bed at all hours, irrationally hoping that if I got enough sleep I would somehow stop being so tired. Instead, messing with the sleep schedule Jaunty and Courtley had gone to such trouble to ingrain in me only made it that much harder to focus when I was awake.

I tried drinking more coffee, which helped me feel more alert, but it also made me jittery. And there were worse symptoms. Heart palpitations, and the return of my old paranoia. Trust no one. Nothing is safe. Nowhere is safe. I started having anxiety attacks for the first time almost three years, curling myself up inside my hair while I panted, sweated, and shivered.

When I did manage to focus, it was usually on my hobbies. Things I did to escape. I told myself I would read something soothing for an hour, only to waste the entire day with a book in my hands. Or I'd go for a quick swim and end up lounging around the pool for hours, dozing on a pool float as I let myself get lost in the tranquil spa music.

I couldn't even muster the self-discipline to write in my journal, unless it was moody, lovelorn poetry, lamenting my lost chance at happiness. I would wake up and reach my hair out to the book nook with every intention of making a productive schedule for the day in my current journal, but somehow my hair would be diverted to one of the earlier volumes instead. I would spend hours dwelling in the past, re-reading entries from the earlier, exciting Bunker Journal days, when everything was fresh and new. Or I'd read the same romance novels and scrapbooks over and over again, wallowing in the comfort of their predictable, happy-ever-after endings.

I found myself wasting hours in bed staring up at the ceiling, endlessly brooding. I wish my life was like the characters in my books. They always found love in the end. Oh, why didn't I? Poppy had a crush on me once. Didn't she? And lately we've been closer friends. I tried everything I could think of to get her to like me. What went wrong?

Maybe if I was more like other trolls, if I was better-looking, if I wasn't gray and gloomy, Poppy would still be interested in me. She must have decided I wasn't what she wanted in a boyfriend after all.

Was she ever interested in me? I thought wistfully. Oh, how I wish she'd made a move on me! If she'd kissed me during that picnic, I'd have known for sure that she liked me. Even if I'd rejected her, at least I'd have known her true feelings.

And at least I'd have gotten a kiss from her. From someone. From anyone.

But I was Branch. The gray grump. The one frowny-face in a village full of smiles. Of course she didn't have a crush on me. I've been fooling myself. It's just that I thought – I thought she really cared. I thought I was special to her. But I'm not. I'm not special to her. I'm not special to anyone.

It hurt. It hurt so much more than I would ever have thought possible. After three years of near-invisibility, being seen again had brought something to life in me that I hadn't realized was missing. A sudden craving. No, a craving fulfilled.

When I opened my heart to Poppy and let myself care for her, I'd blossomed, dreaming of a future filled with love and companionship. My imagination had been set free to wander through a world of new thoughts and ideas in the safe seclusion of my bunker. A wonderful world, where Poppy welcomed my love, too. I hadn't realized just how much my hope had grown, nurtured in her warm, nourishing sunlight. But now that sunlight was gone, and in its absence my hope died, and withered away.

I'd been living in a fantasy world. But this was reality, and reality was harsh. No troll knew that better than I did.

Even if Poppy does care for me, she wouldn't want to be with me after she's seen me like…this. I might be able to hide it for a while, but sooner or later my true nature would come out and she'd turn away from me. She'd have to. Like Creek said, she needs someone worthy of being by her side. Someone happy and upbeat. And no matter what I wrote in my Love List, that's just not me.

The thought of the list I'd made while in the clutches of hormone-enhanced infatuation made me cringe. It just goes to show how easily you can fool yourself. I actually believed that nonsense. Of course Poppy doesn't need me to take care of her. She's strong, and smart, and brave. Even if she does need someone, literally any troll in the entire village would be better than a – a downer like me. A party pooper. A pessimist. Wake up and smell the coffee, Branch. No matter how much you wish you were right for her, you just aren't. And there's nothing you can do about it.

-O-

When I heard my voice break, I paused to get my breathing under control. My younger self had gone down a pretty dark path, one I'd never wanted to go down again, but it was hard to resist the undertow.

Then Poppy kissed my nose. "My poor Pookie."

The silly nickname made me roll my eyes. Poppy chuckled, and my heart lightened. Oh, how I loved her!

Her hair began to sweep over mine in long, gentle strokes. I hummed in pleasure as I closed my eyes, ready to accept her comfort. Then the movement stopped. I heard her hair swish through the air and felt the long strands settle softly over my body, tucking in around me, supporting me like a snuggly blanket.

Almost immediately I began to relax. What was this? I'd never felt anything so calming; my inner tension dissolving away like sugar.

Or had I? It seemed so familiar somehow…

Somewhere in the deepest recesses of my mind I could just remember the feeling of being held safe and warm in the hair of those who loved me. My grandma. My parents. Maybe others, too. It felt a lot like this. All I had to do was let go, and trust in Poppy's love for me.

My clenched stomach relaxed, my tight muscles unwound, and my breathing drew deep and easy. Warmth began to spread, and I felt myself growing sleepy. "Oh, yeah," I murmured. "This feels nice…"

After a few minutes, Poppy asked, "Feeling better now, sweetie?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

She let her hair relax back to its normal position, and I immediately missed it. "Sounds like you really went through a hard time," she murmured sympathetically.

"Yeah," I said drowsily, "I was really wallowing for a while there. Once, I even hit…"

Just in time, I caught myself. My eyes popped open to check if she'd noticed, but her face held only ordinary curiosity. "Hit what? Rock bottom?" she asked.

"Uh…yeah."

As I lay there in my quiet, peaceful bedroom with my sweet girlfriend regarding me with exactly the kind of love and devotion I'd craved so badly back then, I decided that there was no need to share the worst details of that time in my life with her.

Maybe I'll tell her about it someday, but not yet. She's got her own emotional issues to deal with. I know she said she wanted to hear about everything, but I think she's been through enough for one day without having to hear about that melodramatic nonsense.

I didn't want to think about it, either. Not right now. Maybe not ever.

Instead I added in a deliberately light tone, "Yeah, I was a mess for a while, but eventually I was able to move on. Well, sort of. I always had a soft spot for you, even before I fell for you. That never changed."

"You're such a sweetie-kins," she cooed. "Come here, my little Peach Fuzz."

The nickname unexpectedly rang an old bell in me. "Aww. My grandma used to call me that."

"That's 'cause you're as cute as a fuzzy-wuzzy little peach," she said sweetly, rubbing her hands in circles on my cheeks. "In fact, I could eat you up! Sneak attack! Mwah!" Poppy started enthusiastically kissing me all over my face. "Mwah! Mwah! Mwah!"

"Poppy…" She kept kissing me, over and over, as if she felt the same need I did to catch up on all the kisses we'd missed out on over the years. I started to giggle, pretending to hide from her kisses behind my hands. "Hee hee! You'll n-never get me!"

Poppy laughed, too, sneaking in kisses wherever she found a break in my weak defense, which was practically everywhere. "Oh, yes I will! I've got you now, Captain Fuzzy! There is no defense from my kisses!"

I laughed and squirmed and loved her from the bottom of my heart. She knew just what I needed to make me feel better.

Eventually, with a final, overly-affectionate smooch, she snuggled into me. I put my arm over her, enjoying the feel of her warm body breathing against mine and rubbing her back now and then through her silky-soft pajamas.

I was so lucky to have her. I marveled at how easily she was able to accept the tale of my past folly. I knew people were always telling her personal stuff, and if our friends were any example, trolls were capable of some pretty weird behavior, but even so…

I finished my thought aloud. "…It still embarrasses me."

"What does?"

"Wallowing like that. The way I let my emotions take over my life. It was almost like Frolic Festival season all over again, except that I didn't have the mating hormones messing with my brain as an excuse for being so lame."

"Branch, you weren't lame. You were in love. And then when you gave up on me, you were in pain." Poppy moved back a little so we could see each other's faces. "You needed support, and you didn't get it."

"Yeah, I know, but that was my own fault. It was my choice not to talk to anybody about what I was feeling, so I should have been able to handle it on my own."

"That doesn't… Well, maybe…" Poppy bit her lip, looking doubtful. "But don't you remember what we learned in BioLove class about breakups?"

"Uh…" I looked away, vaguely ashamed. "That was one of the classes I usually skipped. Love was the last thing on my mind back then."

Poppy nodded. "Okay. Well, hormones are involved. When a troll experiences something like the breakup of a relationship, their body produces stress hormones that make them feel really, really bad. They need extra love and support for a while."

My jaw dropped. "Really? Everyone feels like I did?"

She nodded. "To some degree, yes. Didn't your family's books mention anything about the effects of love-hormones?"

"No, but some of the volumes are numbered, so I know I don't have the complete collection. A lot were lost because of the bergens. The ones that I do have are mostly focused on the hard sciences. Engineering, chemistry, medicine, physics. There were some books on psychology, some personal journals, books on cooking and gardening, and even some romance novels."

"Romance novels?" Poppy gave me a playful look. "Oh, I definitely have to read those," she teased me.

I blushed, then changed the subject before she asked me which one was my favorite. "Well, anyway, if hormones are involved, that would explain- Wait." I frowned thoughtfully. "No, that doesn't add up. No one else ever acts like I did."

"They do, actually." Her playfulness faded. "You just don't see it because most trolls seek comfort from their family and friends in private."

"Oh." Now that I was closer to more trolls, I could see that. And yet- "But we didn't have a relationship. I mean, we were friends, but not romantic partners. Except in my head."

"I know, but I still think they affected you." Poppy nodded. "Some trolls feel the effects more strongly than others. It can take a while for their hormones to normalize." She gestured toward me. "Especially if the troll in question secludes themself away from all social contact. It's like a negative feedback loop, Branch. You have to do something to break the cycle, and you can't always do that alone."

"Hm." I was quiet for a minute as I mulled that over, thinking about those dark days in a different light. "I wish I'd known that. Maybe I wouldn't have been so hard on myself..."

"Branch." Poppy's serious tone brought me back to the present. "If you ever feel like that again - that you're lame, or lazy, or somehow wrong for me, or not worthy of me, I want you to tell me right away. I'll remind you of all the ways you're exactly the right person for me. You're The One, Branch." I saw the fire in her eyes as she moved to kiss me, and I felt the passion in her kiss, her lips strong and sensual on mine. "The Perfect One for Me."

"Oh, Poppy…" My heart leaped at the reminder of the love song I'd written for her. Poppy wanted me as much as I wanted her. I would never get tired of realizing that. I started to reach over to put a hand on the back of her neck so I could return all her eager passion and more besides, but before I could, she leaned over me and we locked gazes.

"I think I've known it all along, Branch." Her sweet voice had that soft, husky tone I loved as she gazed sincerely into my eyes, so sincerely that I couldn't doubt her even if I tried. "Even at your worst, there were always things I admired about you. Things I respected. I mean, sure, I might have thought you were too focused on work, and maybe you were a liiittle bit uptight…"

She held her thumb and finger apart about an inch, and grinned at me. I couldn't help grinning back. "But that never stopped me from liking you, and appreciating you. I knew you cared, Branch. No matter what you thought about yourself, I always knew you cared about me, and our friends. That's why I wasn't the least bit surprised when you came after me and saved me from the spiders, just before they would have gobbled me up. You saved me because you loved me. No matter how much you tried not to."

-O-

"Ow! Sprinkling fudgecakes!" I yelled, dropping my hammer on the floor and grabbing my thumb. My eyes watered from the numb agony. "Rusty hinges! Wood-rot, that hurts!"

After more than a month spent aimlessly moping around my bunker, sometimes feeling better, sometimes worse, I had finally begun to get back on track. Completing some much-needed repairs had helped me feel better, but I was hampered by an unusual problem…

Sucking on my sore thumb, I cast a sour glare at the dancing-Poppy statue that had distracted me at the worst possible moment. Again. "This is your fault," I grumbled. "This is the third time this week! At this rate, I'm gonna end up permanently maimed."

Her playful grin looked more like a smirk. My temper flared, and suddenly I wanted to smash the stupid thing. Its very existence was a blatant reminder of how low I'd sunk, allowing myself to get carried away by naïve dreams of love, happiness, and a bright future. What's next, the bergens turn out to be our friends after all?

I stomped toward the figure and reached for it, ready to hurl it at the wall and make it match my shattered dreams. But as I drew near, she smiled up at me, and my hands were instinctively gentle as I picked her up. Her graceful form felt familiar and good in my hand. I recalled the peaceful hours I'd spent patiently shaping and smoothing her little body, awash in love and contentment for the beauty I was creating.

My anger drained away, and I sighed. I just didn't have the heart to do it. Besides, none of this was her fault. I was the one who had let myself get distracted by her – both in here, and out there. Poppy was innocent.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to move this statue out of sight. The rest of them, too. They're a health hazard. I think I'll just pack them up and put them into storage for a while.

With the living room clear of emotionally-charged objects, I felt lighter. It was the first time in a long while that I'd felt so much better, like I'd turned the corner on the way to healing, emotionally. I recognized the feeling from my past, coming out of dark periods to find the world seeming brighter and more interesting somehow.

I should have done that weeks ago. In fact, why don't I go through the whole place? I can get rid of everything that reminds me of her. Make a clean sweep.

So I traversed my whole bunker, top to bottom, collecting a lot of random stuff Poppy had given me over the years. I gave it all to the inferno flower to burn, as well as many of the things I'd created during that fateful Frolic Festival season. Clumsy wall art and embarrassingly sappy, unrealistic love stories. The cringy "Poppy Loves Branch" boxer shorts I'd embroidered. The poppy-flower painting from Harper's class. And a lot of really, really awful poetry.

Delicate and sweet

You look good enough to eat

Ugh. It was a good thing I wasn't a bergen.

Seeing the bare dirt walls was oddly satisfying. They matched the hollow space inside me.

Even so, I couldn't bear to burn some of my best work. My journals. My awesome game figures, which I'd carved and decorated with such loving meticulousness. The cute ceramic statues, and a few of my best paintings. I would paint over those paintings that weren't as good, so as to re-use the canvases. I packed my Trial Run stuff in my old toy chest, and the rest in various boxes and containers. Then I piled all of it on my lift and brought it all down to the same storage room where I kept everything else I didn't want to think about but hadn't want to get rid of, just in case.

Like the stuff from my original family. Over the years, many trolls had found a lot of random junk stashed in their hair and given it to me; relics from a past I had done my best to forget. Clothes, books, tools, puzzles, various craft and party supplies. I'd kept the tools and Grandma's puzzles and boxed up the rest, dragging my burden along with me from foster home to foster home, where it took up an increasingly large amount of space as the years passed. When I moved into my bunker it had been a relief to be able to get all that stuff out from underfoot, safely stored out of sight and out of mind. I was proud that no pod could ever match my bunker for sheer square footage.

Now, clutching the heavy wooden chest, I staggered into the cluttered room and looked for a place to set it down. I had to use my hair to shove a stack of wooden crates to one side, then set down my burden with a satisfied sigh of relief.

As I stood up, I looked around and found myself frowning at the disorganized piles of stuff everywhere. I didn't realize there was this much in here. But then, I haven't been in here in at least a year. Back when I was busy constructing my bunker, I'd tossed a lot of stuff into storage that I'd forgotten about. First attempts that hadn't worked out. Dented copper pipes, half-used construction materials, dried-up containers of paint and glue. Broken pottery, tools, and machinery.

What a mess. I should get rid of all this useless stuff, too. I wasn't one for spontaneous decisions, but de-cluttering the rest of my bunker had been so cleansing that it felt right to keep going. Yeah. It's about time I cleaned it all out.

One of the first boxes I tried to lift was really heavy. Thinking it might be some tools I could salvage, I opened it to find that the box was full of books, not tools. I started to close the lid, but the unusual title of the top scrapbook caught my eye.

I Feel Bad by Sunflower Timberlake. Obviously an ancestor of mine.

The troll on the cover was light gray with dark gray hair, and it looked…sad. It even had a blue teardrop on its cheek. Despite myself, I was intrigued. As I opened the first cover, I told myself I was just going to casually flip through the first few pages on the off-chance that there might be something interesting inside. Then I would have the inferno flower burn all the books and reclaim the space for something more useful.

And that was how I rediscovered my family's books at a pivotal time in my life when I needed them most.

Thanks to the bunker cleansing I was in a curiously open frame of mind, ready to free myself of past burdens. I was still bummed out about Poppy, with no end in sight. I was also desperately lonely in general, and had been for a long, long time. On some level, I knew I needed someone. I needed wise, sympathetic council from someone who wasn't biased by their mental preconception of me as tough, practical, thick-skinned Branch. Someone who might understand my forlorn, isolated, sensitive heart.

And my family saved me, one last time. I found the connection I was looking for, and so much more. I felt supported. I felt loved. I felt understood in a way that I never had by anyone - other than Poppy, sometimes.

Thanks to my ancestors' wise, caring advice about dealing with bad feelings, I started writing in my journal again. I let it soak up my plaintive pain on its pages, like a compress drawing the fever out of a wound. Sometimes I pretended that I was writing to my family. Other times I imagined myself talking to some poor lovelorn troll in the future, letting them know I understood exactly what they were going through. It really helped me to organize my thoughts, and get it all out.

I also started spending time outside, taking long, quiet walks in the sunlight, breathing in the fresh air and letting the breeze tickle my hair. I watched the forest animals go about their business, and even did some gardening. It was soothing, and the daylight helped reset my natural clock so that I started sleeping through the night again. Every day, I got better.

Eventually I started going to the village again. With my family's help, I felt secure enough to make some changes. I stopped following Poppy around, and no longer tried desperately to win her favor. I didn't crave her presence or her kind words to the point where I went out of my way to get them. I guess I felt less needy, now that I had a source of emotional support of my own.

My family's books assured me that there was nothing wrong with loving someone. That it was normal to want to be close to others, and that there were many ways to care for them. That made me feel better. I could still love Poppy. I could still help her, when she needed me, and just hide how soft it made me feel inside. I could still be her friend, and that was enough.

With time came acceptance. Poppy and I would never be together, and that was okay. I could think about her and not be overwhelmed with longing. I could remember how happy -yes, happy; however briefly - I'd been to be blissfully in love with her, and let myself be warmed by my lingering fondness.

When the next Frolic Festival season came around, I didn't obsess over Poppy. But I did notice that this season seemed different than the ones I remembered from before I fell in love with her. Comfortably holed up in my bunker for the month, I had the time to make some comparisons, with some rather eye-opening conclusions.

Loving Poppy had changed me. I could feel it, deep inside. After all these years of holding myself apart from the other trolls, I'd opened myself up to the idea of truly connecting with someone. To joining my life with another person's and creating a new life together, even though I had no idea who that person might be. I could never quite close myself off to that possibility now. It would always be there in the back of my mind; a permanent part of me.

Loving Poppy had changed me in other ways, too. I was more comfortable with my body than I used to be. Taking care of my body's needs, especially during mating seasons, felt like less of a burden now. There was nothing wrong with enjoying the pleasure my body could give me.

Poppy had also helped me connect with my own feelings. Because of her, I even felt closer to other trolls; a little more empathetic whenever I saw some troll in the village speak fondly of their lover.

Someday when I was ready, the books declared, I would notice someone new, and move on. Until then, I would wait.

Six years later, when the bergens finally attacked, I was still waiting.

-O-

As I concluded my tale, Poppy was silent. If not for the fact that her eyes were open, I'd have thought she'd fallen asleep.

Then I heard a sniffle. "I'm sorry you were lonely for so long, Branch."

A pang of remorse twinged my heart. For the second time in one night, I'd upset her enough to make her cry. "Hey, Poppy, it's okay-"

"I'm sorry I was so oblivious to your feelings. It's just, I really believed what you said about wanting us to be like brother and sister. I tried to think of you that way for years. I regret that now. When I think of all the time we've wasted…"

"Poppy…" It bothered me to see her so melancholy. Had she always been like this, so full of remorse? Or was she picking up my worst traits? Is that normal in relationships, to start taking on each other's characteristics?

Well, if it was, maybe I could use some of Poppy's optimism. I started to tell her she shouldn't be so upset, then changed my mind. I'd always hated it when someone said stuff like that to me. Even when they thought they were being supportive, invalidating my feelings like that only made me feel like there was something wrong with me. 'Party pooper.' 'You always spoil everything.'

Instead, I gave her a slow, tender kiss. "I want to thank you for everything you did for me. It may not have seemed like much to you, but it meant the world to me. If not for you, I might have left the village for good and never come back." I stroked her cheek lovingly. "Whether you realized it or not, you kept me…connected."

"Aww, Branch." It seemed I was on the right track, as her distress softened into a look of pure adoration. Then she took my face in her hands and kissed me back. "I love you, Smoochie."

"Mmm… I love you, too, Sunshine…" I closed my eyes and basked in her kiss, needing her love and support just as much as she needed mine. It was amazing how fast I'd gone from avoiding her affection to craving it!

I ran my fingers through her silky hair and murmured, "We all have regrets, Poppy. I regret all the awful things I've said to you all these years, all the invitations I refused or ruined… If I'd had the guts to tell you that you were The One for me, maybe now we'd be… Great, now I'm doing it."

I sighed, the corner of my mouth lifting in a wry smile. What would Poppy say in this situation? "You know what, maybe it's time to stop dwelling on the past. We need to focus on the present, and look forward to the future, right?"

"Oh, absolutely, Branch," she agreed readily. "But…" She yawned. "The past is important, too. Like you said, you wouldn't be the troll I love if things had been different. Your memories and your experiences matter."

-O-

Poppy yawned again, and that made Branch yawn, too, as a surge of weariness rolled over her. She watched Branch glance at the clock and saw his widen. "Oh, my gosh."

"What?"

"It's almost four. We've been talking for over an hour!"

He did not look happy. Poppy gave him a sheepish grin. "Well, you know what they say, 'Time flies when you're having fun."

"Yeah, no. Poppy, we've got to go to sleep. We're gonna be so tired. And on Cleanup Day, too!" he complained petulantly.

Poppy waved a nonchalant hand. "Oh, a little, maybe, but we can make up for it. I know you're used to getting up really early, but just this once, you can sleep in. We don't have to be there until nine, remember?"

His alarm subsided. "Oh, right. I guess so…"

"So, then…" She opened her mouth to ask another question, and then a huge, long yawn caught both of them at same time.

"Poppy…." he pleaded.

With drooping eyelids, she gave up. "Well, can we at least cuddle until we fall asleep?"

In answer, he opened his arms. As always, it was an invitation she would never, ever refuse.

"Two nights ago, I would never have imagined I'd be doing this…" Her sweetheart sounded so cute, all sleepy and mellow.

Contentedly listening to his heartbeat under her ear, she said serenely, "I'm proud of you, Branch."

"For what?"

"For being brave enough to let yourself fall in love. Twice, actually."

He let out a quiet note of contentment as he put his arm over her waist, and squeezed gently.

"…Hey, Branch?"

He sighed. "Yeah?"

"I wish I could have read your first love poem. The one you wrote when you were going to confess to me. Do you remember any of it?"

"Sure. I still have it."

"What? I thought you said you burned it."

"I burned the copy I was going to give to you, yes, but the original poem is still in my journal. Even though I'd given up, I couldn't burn my whole journal."

As usual, Poppy saw the bright side. "Hey, you could have just ripped out that one page and burned it, but you didn't. I think you had more hope than you thought. Also, I think you were proud of your work and didn't want to throw it away. Someday, sweetie…" Poppy brought her face close and pressed her nose against his, her eyes softly shining. "Someday I would love to walk down Memory Lane with you."

"Well, if you promise to go to sleep right now, tomorrow I might just give you a reward. The wistful words of a young boy in love. I'll even show you the lovey-dovey artwork I drew along with it."

"I promise!" Poppy said instantly. The last thing she heard was Branch's soft chuckle.

Author's Note:

Branch didn't quote his first Poppy love poem in chapter 47 to her; just told her that he wrote one. So only we have seen it so far 😉

Did you notice all the negative self-talk in this chapter? I feel like Branch suffers from depression partly because of what happened with his grandma, partly because he has no social group to turn to for comfort when he needs help to feel better (or rather, he refuses to turn to his old friends for help) but also partly because he is overly strict with himself. He never gives himself a break. High expectations are usually a good thing, but they can cause a breakdown if you're not realistic. A mature person will take a break now and then without feeling the need for a lot of guilt or self-punishment.

I added in a bit after my beta reader noted that, contrary to what Branch believes at the beginning of this chapter, trolls can and do suffer from heartbreak and do cry about it. In the Trollstopia season 5 episode "BPF", Poppy acted like she was looking for a lover rather than just looking for the perfect Best Pet Friend. After every failure, she sought comfort mostly in private, from two of her closest friends. They brought her ice cream and were there for her while she cried.

So in this chapter of Picturebook Romance, 19-year-old Branch basically assumes that trolls get over crushes easily because he's never really heard of another troll getting into a long-term depression like he had. But then, that wouldn't happen in public. Also, Branch had never dated. He'd had only one serious crush before Poppy (I'll reveal who it was later) but if things had turned out differently and he had dated, Leafe and Cheery would have been there to comfort him after each breakup. Branch didn't even take the relationship/dating classes in school. So he has a skewed idea of how trolls handle failed relationships.

Speaking of Trollstopia, if you have the chance, watch season 5, episode 7, second half, called The Search for Piece. It's a sad yet beautiful story about Branch and his grandma, and how she made him feel safe. She called him her little Peach Fuzz. And she had one last, poignant lesson to teach him. Easily the best episode I've seen in the last few seasons. He even has a classic Branch freakout, the first one we've seen in a long time, and it's wonderful to see the way his friends now understand and support him this time around.

On a personal note, the puzzle picture in that episode shows two trolls who are basically the brother and sister I introduced in chapter 52 - Hearty and Maple! I had used two mini trolls toy figures I have as models. I assume they're both part of the original set of characters designed by Dreamworks. So it's cool for me to see Leafe's big brother and little sister on TV 😊

By the way, I have read science-based articles from research colleges like Harvard and Berkley that confirm that your body, particularly your brain, reacts the same way to being in love as to an addictive substance like cocaine or nicotine. That's one reason why people in love are often irrational and needy. And why, when you break up, it's a good idea to give yourself time to heal instead of going out to look for a new partner right away. Your body physically needs the break to recover from the "withdrawal symptoms".

Finally, I maaay have just included a bit of foreshadowing here… 😉