-O-
Picturebook Romance
A Trolls fanfic
By Dreamsinger
Chapter Thirty-Two
Part of His World
It took me a while since I was so used to it, but I finally noticed how silent my kitchen was. I couldn't remember ever being with Poppy for so long with neither of us saying a word, just spending companionable quality time together. It was kind of nice, actually, but it definitely wasn't like Poppy to be so quiet.
Maybe she's not as ready to kiss me as she thought? Or maybe the arnica salve didn't help… Or she didn't like the way I touched her stomach earlier? Maybe I overstepped her boundaries – not that she has many, but still. She was acting a little flustered when I first started applying the salve. Maybe I should apologize?
When I'd finished dressing her bruise, I hadn't wanted to stop touching her or lose the closeness I'd built with my precious girl. No one had ever let me touch them the way Poppy had.
Of course, I'd never really known how to ask. But it had turned out to be a lot easier than I'd thought; to just let go of my fear and simply reach out. To offer to share the special connection I felt with her.
Just that easy.
Maybe all this time I'd just been overcomplicating things after all. If I couldn't tell her I had a crush on her, I might have been able to show it instead, by paying attention to her in a caring, physical way. Maybe not with a passionate embrace, but what about stroking her arm or her back, or brushing her hair?
Or even…touching her ears?
Every time I thought about how it had felt, having her gentle, loving hands stroking my ears, I felt a sappy smile trying to take over my face. What a glorious sensation – soothing rivers of energy flowing from my ears to my toes, my spine humming gently as I buried my face into her soft, sweet-smelling body. I'd never felt closer to her.
-O-
What would it feel like to have Branch touch my ears? I'm kinda curious now – he really seemed to like it when I touched his. I hope he'll want to brush my hair again sometime, too. It felt so good, in a different way than I've ever felt with anybody else. I like it when he pays attention to me… I even liked it when he licked me. It was tickly and tingly and totally fun. And he was so proud of himself, for being so daring. I want to do everything I can to encourage him.
The pink troll could still feel his fingers running across her skin, tentative, yet playful, wanting to connect with her but not sure how. Poppy recalled his soft voice asking if what he was doing was okay with her, even though he was the one who wasn't used to touching, or being touched. I guess Doctor Plum was right when she said he's a lot younger than his age in some ways. He acts so confident most of the time that I guess I wasn't expecting that. But you know, she grinned to herself, it only makes him cuter.
I'm really proud of him, too. He's made so much progress already. He even let me brush his hair, and touch his ears… Haha, the look on his face when he saw me teasing him with the sugarfruit! And him wanting to flirt with me is even better!
And we still have the rest of the evening together. Oh, I can't wait to see what happens next!
Suddenly Poppy heard music. Ukulele strumming, to be exact; eight clear notes rising in a perky ascending octave. Automatically Poppy's mind followed along. Do re mi fa so la… ti… do…
The music came from a handsome wooden wall clock shaped like a guitar, its softly shining golden oak inlaid with various tiny pieces of wood that formed some kind of pattern. Poppy took a closer look. At each hour, to either side of the number, there were two different musical instruments. Twenty-four in all. Since the eight o'clock ukulele she'd just heard was on the outer ring of instruments, that meant the inner ring was probably from midnight to noon.
For the daytime, Branch had chosen boisterous instruments like brisk drums made of striped zebrawood and bold trumpets of shiny yellow birch. Nighttime was represented by gentler sounds, such as an elegant ebony piano, or a silverwood flute. Nine o'clock would be the graceful, delicate notes of a gorgeously curved red cedar harp.
"Oh, what a wonderful clock, Branch!"
"Thank you," he said with quiet pride.
She ran a careful finger over the silky surface, the hundreds of tiny, delicate bits of inlaid wood joined together so smoothly she could barely feel the seams. She pictured him crouched over a workbench, wearing magnifying glasses and using tweezers with careful precision. Aww… This must have taken him a long time.
"Come on, Sunshine, dinner's ready," came his affectionate voice.
The pink troll turned away from the clock to see her boyfriend carrying two plates of scrambled eggs and giving her a tender look that made her heart skip a beat. She smiled lovingly back at him and reached to pick up the twin bowls of steaming oatmeal, following him to the table. He made one more trip to the pantry to get some condiments, leaving the soup simmering gently on the stove for later.
As he came back, he used his hair to drop covers over two of the nearest mushroom glows. The room dimmed, taking on the same romantic ambiance she'd noticed earlier, like candlelight, mellow and dreamy. Her boyfriend's eyes looked so soft and gentle…
Branch's hushed, sensitive voice whispered in her mind. 'Your eyes are like two pools, so deep, I fear if I dive in, I'll never come up for air.'
Poppy grinned. Nah. Cannonball!
As they sat down, the rich scents of cheese, eggs and herbs wafting from the table made her mouth water. Ecstatically, she fell to. Branch must have been starving, too, devouring his own portion of the savory meal nearly as fast as she did hers.
A few minutes later she pushed aside her empty plate and sighed. Then she giggled. "I was kind of wondering if you mostly just ate raw acorns and berries here in your bunker, but you're actually a great cook. That was really delicious, Branch."
"Thanks. My foster dads taught me."
"Aww. That's nice."
With some hot food in her belly, Poppy began to relax, letting herself zone out and think about nothing in particular while she waited for him to finish.
"Here, try this, honey."
"Wh-what?" Poppy roused from her mental vacancy, heat rushing to her face as she gaped at his unexpected endearment and Branch obligingly slipped a spoonful of oatmeal into her open mouth before she knew what was going on.
"How is it? Not too hot?" he inquired politely as he withdrew the spoon.
It took her a moment to get her brain working. It was good. Very good, in fact. Good oatmeal was tricky to make, but his was done perfectly; sweet and chewy; just the right consistency, halfway between crunchy and mushy.
Mindful of her earlier lesson, she took care to chew and swallow before she answered. "It's perfect, um…honey," she said with a shy giggle.
At his look of surprise and sudden flush of lavender brightening his cheeks, only then did she see the jar of golden honey on the table. She slapped her hands to her cheeks. "Oh!"
He followed her gaze, looked up at her, and threw his head back, howling with laughter.
She tried to be indignant, but his mood was contagious. Soon she snerked, then broke down and let herself laugh away her embarrassment.
"Oh. Oh, man." Branch wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. "'Classic,'" he quoted, smirking. "That'll be a great story to tell our friends."
"Braaanch!" she huffed, but couldn't hold her irritation when he reached out and covered her hand with his. All desire to argue with him evaporated. She curled her fingers around his and gave his hand a fond squeeze, forgiving him, before letting go to pick up her spoon. All right. Two can play this game.
"Hey, Branch. My turn. Say 'ah'," she said playfully, holding up her own spoonful and enjoying the way he blushed and complied, lifting his chin a little as if he were still a trolling.
"Ahhh…"
"Here it comes…into the tunnel…" She took her time, making funny noises and doing little swirls in the air and laughing at her silly boy as he followed the spoon with his eyes, wiggling his eyebrows at her. Finally she slid the spoonful into his waiting mouth. He closed his lips over it and kept hold of the spoon, letting her tug gently at it for a few seconds before he let her go.
As the aquamarine troll enjoyed his oatmeal, her middle fluttered in a way that had nothing to do with the food. This is one of my favorite sides of him, when he's being all easygoing, having fun… It just feels so precious to me.
Wanting to keep the mood light, she said mischievously, "Hey, Braaanch, did you know today while we were at their tent, the twins were flirrrting with you?"
A spray of oatmeal landed on the table. "Wh-what?"
She chortled, "They wanted to see if you'd flirt back, or if you were serious about me. It was a test, they said."
The shock on his face changed to outrage. "Why those sneaky – urgh!" He shoved another mouthful in, chewed indignantly, then swallowed and asked, "Did I pass?"
"Of course! They said you didn't even notice they were flirting." She laughed again, expecting him to give her the coy look she was getting to know so well and say something like, "Of course not. I only had eyes for you," and maybe wink at her.
But he surprised her.
"…Actually, I did. I just thought I was imagining it," he admitted, then added, "I'm glad they're looking out for you."
"Us."
"What?"
"Us, Branch. They're looking out for us. They're your friends, too," she reminded him sincerely. "They all helped us spend the day together without interruptions, didn't they? And if they thought I wasn't serious about you, they'd test me, too."
Her brain flitted back over the conversation in Guy's tent. In a way, they did. Doctor Plum, too. And she was glad, because talking it out had really done a lot to make her more confident of her feelings for her sweetheart.
"They would?" Branch said in surprise.
"Of course. Dad, Doctor Plum and Acorn were concerned about you, too."
"They were?" Now he was utterly astonished, his ears momentarily pressing back against his head. "But why?"
Her smile faltered. "Why?" she repeated.
At his look of genuine bewilderment, a wave of melancholy swept over her and she pressed a hand to her heart in sympathy. Doctor Plum was right. He does have a hard time feeling connected to others. "Oh, Branch… You still don't see it?" she asked wistfully.
"See what?"
She pushed away the sadness, reminding him passionately, "You've got a lot more people thinking about you than you realize, Branch. Not just me and our friends. What about all the people you used to know? And all the people you've been getting to know since you rejoined society? And as for the rest of the village, well, everybody knows the troll who brought back our true colors. There are so many people who care about you, Branch. Believe me."
"I…guess I hadn't thought of it like that." He took another bite of oatmeal, chewing thoughtfully.
Poppy pulled in a breath, then stopped. Again and again, she started to say something, wanting so badly to reassure him, but after remembering how working through her own feelings out loud had helped her, she managed to stop herself. Instead, she picked up her own spoon and began to eat, leaning slightly toward him to show that she was ready to hear anything he wanted to say.
Eventually her patience was rewarded.
"You know, Poppy, before today, I wouldn't have believed you. It shouldn't surprise me, but…you have to understand, I spent ten years doing my best to disconnect from everyone," he explained seriously. "And I succeeded. Oh, not permanently; sooner or later I'd get lonely for company and go to the village, or you'd come by for a visit and I'd be so glad to see you, even if I didn't show it. Your visits were the highlights of my life, Poppy," he said sincerely.
She was so engrossed in this key piece of his mysterious past that she didn't notice they had finished eating until he got up to rinse out their bowls and refill them with soup.
"But I got used to that thinking I was kind of, well, invisible. As if the sight of me had no impact on people, that as soon as I left they'd forget they'd even seen me. And as strange as that might seem, that was comforting to me."
"Comforting? I don't understand, Branch," she said, caught between sadness and confusion. "Why would you want to live like that?"
"I couldn't be hurt. And I couldn't hurt anybody else, if they never really saw me," he said simply.
Poppy's breath caught, and her chest ached. Oh, Branch…
As she watched her boyfriend come slowly back to the table, carefully carrying the steaming bowls, Poppy responded softly, "I guess I can understand that. Nobody wants to be hurt, or hurt others. I sure don't want to hurt you, not for all the cupcakes in the world."
"Thanks. And…I'm truly sorry for all the times I hurt you."
"Thank you," she whispered, so touched that it took her a moment to remember what they were talking about, and figure out what she wanted to say next. "But, Branch, of course people remembered you. You weren't nearly as invisible as you thought you were. I thought about you a lot, and so did my dad and our friends and lots of other trolls, including Doctor Plum and Acorn. Today Biggie told me he used to try to chat with you whenever you came to the village. See? He remembered you."
She thanked Branch as he set her bowl in front of her, then continued, "In fact, earlier today he said he'd suspected you were in love with me all along but were just too shy to say anything."
"What?" A splash of soup joined the oatmeal splatter from earlier as his bowl came down with a clatter. With a wide-eyed stare, Branch dropped heavily onto his seat.
"…Well, that explains that whole "dress-up" thing, I guess," he said weakly.
"Oh. I guess it does," she agreed cheerfully, picturing the scene in her mind and giggling.
He smiled a little.
Encouraged, she decided to test the waters. "Hey! Speaking of people who remember you, while I was at the doctor's pod, I learned this great recipe for honeymilk from Acorn that I think you'd really like. It has cinnamon in it…" she said enticingly.
The smile left his face.
"What?" she asked. Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned Acorn after all.
"Nothing. Go on, tell me the recipe," he replied.
She hesitated, but he did look interested, so she told him, making a point of describing how tasty it was.
When she finished, he said politely, "It sounds delicious. I'll have to try it sometime."
For a moment she thought he was going to add something, but instead he gave his attention to his soup. Reminded, Poppy also took a few mouthfuls, enjoying the light, fruity flavor before she finally set down her spoon and asked, "What's wrong, Branch?"
"Wrong? Nothing's wrong."
She crossed her arms. "Branch. Remember what we talked about. When something's bothering you, you need to let it out."
"Yeah, but nothing's bothering me. It's just…"
She dropped her arms and leaned closer. "Yes?"
"You aren't having any trouble eating, are you?"
"No." She was puzzled. "Should I be?"
Branch visibly relaxed. "No. I was just thinking that I was glad that as soon as it happened, you were eating and drinking right afterward, before you had the chance to, well, get scared…"
"Of eating?" Surprised, she glanced down her bowl, then back up at him, smiling. "I'm fine, Branch. I got back in the saddle right afterward, so to speak. Besides, even if it should happen again, I feel safe with you."
His face softened and her hands twitched, wanting to reach across the table and cup his cheeks, stroking the downy-fine fuzz. Aw, come on, Branch, why do you have to smile at me like that? You just enjoy tempting me, don't you?
"I'm glad, Poppy," he said quietly. "You know I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe."
"I know. Thanks, Branch," she said with a husky trace in her tone, gazing deeply into his sincere blue eyes. It had never occurred to her that she might have trouble with eating, except maybe popcorn, but it was sweet of him to worry.
She took another yummy mouthful to ease his concern, chewing and swallowing and rubbing her belly with exaggerated pleasure. "Mmmm. Mm. Mm. Mmm! I sure wouldn't want to miss out on savoring my handsome boyfriend's famous sugarfruit soup."
She loved the way his face lit up at the compliments, and he chuckled. "Yep, my beautiful girlfriend definitely 'got back up again'," he sang, and it was her turn to blush and giggle.
With the tension gone, and all hopped up on sugar, Poppy kept up a stream of excited chatter for the rest of the meal and beyond, helping him clean up and wash the dishes. Branch put in an occasional comment as he gazed at her, his face relaxed into one of her favorite expressions, all mellow and affectionate and utterly lovable.
Thoroughly enjoying being the center of his attention, Poppy recounted her favorite parts of the day, and they laughed and marveled over all the weird and wonderful moments they'd shared together.
-O-
"So are you ever gonna tell me what this whole 'stuffie' thing is all about?"
"Mayyybe…"
She threatened to ask Leafe instead. He laughed and gave in and told her, and soon she was laughing right along with him, loving every moment of it. She would never, ever get tired of his beautiful, joyful laugh.
And I really love the idea of him teaching! I'll have to see about finding him some opportunities to keep doing it once in a while so he can get used to it.
-O-
"…and Guy Diamond wants you to know that silver glitter is always 'in'," she chortled, squeakily imitating their offended friend's fluctuating vocals. "'It's claAasic! Never goes out of styYyle!'"
"I beg to differ," Branch chuckled. "Not everyone likes looking like a disco ball!"
"Hey, I do! And I know someone else who'd look totally fantastic if he got his sparkle on…"
"Yeah, no."
-O-
"How's your bruise?"
She wiggled her body a little, then reported, "It doesn't hurt anymore."
"Oh, good."
"That arnica salve works really well."
"It has a mild painkiller in it. Just don't forget and hit it on something."
"I won't. Thanks again."
"You are very welcome," he said warmly.
-O-
Dishes done, Branch began the tour of his bunker, starting with the bathroom on the bottom level so he could pull out his collection of dirty clothes from his hair and put them in the hamper.
"Wait!" She held up a hand.
"What?"
She pulled a camera from her own hair. "I want to get some pictures of the handprints on your tank top."
"Poppy…" He blushed, but obligingly held it up so she could get a clear shot. She took care to get several of her favorite handprint – the one with the missing finger. That's definitely going in the scrapbook!
Branch also stopped to quickly hang the outfits the twins had given him on a bare section of wall along one of the hallways, with Poppy supervising, of course. Nobody knows decorating like I do!
A few minutes later, riding his lift to the next level, the pink troll sniffed the moving air, noticing for the first time that filled with the rich, hearty smells of soup and eggs and melted cheese, Branch's bunker smelled just like…home.
What a difference from the first time he tried to give me a tour of his bunker, after we got home from Bergen Town…
-O-
"Seriously, Branch. I don't know how you can live down here. Everything is so…same-y."
Her friend held up a pompous finger. "Ah, you look but you don't see. There's lots of interesting things down here."
"Really? You mean like that?" She smirked and pointed to the nearby wall full of bizarre artwork and gruesome graffiti, a blatant tribute to the obsessive paranoia that had once gripped him in its clutches.
He turned around and stared at the wall, his face going blank. Then his cheeks flushed lavender and he waved a dismissive hand at the wall. "Ignore that. It's high time I did a little redecorating, anyway, especially if I'm gonna be getting a lot of unexpected 'guests'."
He raised a teasing eyebrow and grinned at her, and she smiled back. I still can't believe Branch has a sense of humor. Who would've guessed?
He'd offered her a full tour of his bunker then, but aside from his gym and living quarters, most of the bunker just seemed to be made up of dim, narrow passageways full of dismal-looking storerooms. She'd eventually made up an excuse to leave and dashed off, much to his frustration.
-O-
But today was different. As they strolled from one room to the next, her main focus was on him, and how proud he was to show her around the home he'd built all by himself. She loved the way his face lit up when she praised him for all his accomplishments. And he'd accomplished a lot.
Branch's bunker wasn't just a collection of storerooms; it was a group of systems, all working together to keep his home functioning the way it should. And keeping things functioning took a certain amount of maintenance that Poppy, who had lived in one pod or another her entire life, had never been exposed to. Why make a home in a place that requires work just to live there?
But he didn't seem to think it was work. As he paused to adjust a crooked air vent, his hand stroking affectionately over a slight dent, Poppy suddenly realized something. When it's your own home, it doesn't feel like work. More like…TLC.
On the bottom level, he showed her a small nook near the underground spring that filled the pool where he bathed.
"When I first lived here, I used to sleep in this hammock," he told her. "Although eventually I decided I wanted a real bed. I slept on the bottom level for a long time, and then moved up a few levels. After I got back my colors I decided to reorganize and move my living area even further up, to the most open part of the bunker, so I'd have room for guests."
Poppy had another epiphany. "Hey, your bunker is like a scrapbook."
"It is?"
"Yes, a living scrapbook; a tangible history of your past. Everything you've done, everything you've been, for over a decade. It's like a record of your evolving self."
Branch thought about that as he walked. "Deep," he commented after a minute. "When did you get so philosophical?"
"I don't know – since I fell in love with you?" she guessed, smiling at him. "Maybe you're rubbing off on me. It sounds like the kind of thing you might say."
"Really? Hm. I guess so. The thing is, when you're by yourself, you have a lot of time to ponder the meaning of life."
"Oh, really?" She perked up, curious. "What is it?"
"That there is no one truth that fits everybody. We're all different, and so our truths are each a little different from each other's. But one thing that everyone needs is the freedom to focus on whatever is important to them. We do okay with that in Troll Village, for the most past. Trollhood can be stifling, though, since everyone is taught the same, but I understand why now. You can't learn to bond with others without shared experiences."
"Whoa… Branch the Philosopher. People are going to be lining up to hear nuggets of your wisdom." The Philosopher King. I like the sound of that.
Branch looked at her to see if she was teasing him, but she was honestly impressed. His face softened. "Thanks."
As the tour neared its end, Poppy began to notice how at ease her boyfriend was, casually relaxing with one hand against the wall whenever he paused to chat with her.
The way he moved fascinated her, too. Automatically stepping over slightly uneven areas, or ridges in the floor that she scuffed her feet on, using his hair or hand to swing casually around sharp bends, or reaching out to touch things without looking.
More than just a scrapbook, this was his world. His own little world that he'd spent nearly half his life creating. It was unique, and so was he. It occurred to her that no other troll had ever created an entire world before.
Wow.
Up until now, Poppy had considered his bunker boring. Nothing ever happened here, which she knew was intentional on Branch's part. But look at him now. He's in his element, so unguarded in a way he never quite is outside. I want to hear more about what he thinks. I want to hear his dreams.
She wanted to see more of this hidden Branch, to truly understand him, all of him, and the best way to do that was to try to see the world the way he did.
An idea she'd been toying with solidified in her head.
"You know what, Branch, why don't we just spend the night here instead of heading back to my pod?"
His mouth dropped open. "You - you want to stay here?"
She laughed at his astonishment. "Don't look so surprised. I think this place is beginning to grow on me." She lowered her lashes. "Or maybe it's the creator…"
He looked to the side, letting out an embarrassed laugh and rubbing the back of his head, but he didn't answer.
It only took a few seconds for the silence between them to feel awkward.
Poppy held up her hands. "N-no pressure, though. I know this is your private space and that's fine; I just thought 'Hey, why not? We're here anyway, right?'" she babbled.
"Poppy-"
"But if you don't want to, that's also fine, we can just head back to-"
His finger was pressing against her lips. "Poppy."
She went still under his touch.
"Of course you can stay here. I was just surprised. But you know," he lifted his finger, and too late, she wished she had thought to kiss it, "You are always welcome here. You know that, don't you?"
She gave him a sentimental grin. "Aww, Braanch…"
He smiled back and turned to walk down the passageway. Poppy gazed after him, admiring his strong, well-built form. The little pink heart on his white shorts peeked at her from under the edge of his silk vest, drawing her interest to the enticing behind inside those shorts.
She thought about being able to enjoy that view more often and gave in to a sudden temptation.
"In fact…" She heard the low, seductive ardor in her voice. "What would you say to a new roomie?"
"What?"
He swung around in shock and she jerked her eyes up to his face, forcing a silly smirk. "Nothing. Just kidding."
He blinked at her, the little lines appearing between his eyes the way they did when he was confused or stressed out. She managed an awkward chuckle, gesturing grandly ahead of them. "Lead on, Branchifer."
He relaxed and smirked at her. "Funny."
He kept walking, hopefully fooled into thinking she really had just been joking.
-O-
All in all, I was pleased at the interest Poppy was taking in my bunker, nothing like the last time. It was also cool to see new sides of my girl, and through her eyes, to have new ways to see something as familiar as my bunker was to me.
I also couldn't help but enjoy her attention, as if everything I said was interesting and important. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed having that in my life. It reminded me of when I used to live with Leafe, and before him, my foster dads. It made me feel…feel…secure, I guess. It was a good feeling.
When we finished the tour I led Poppy back to the level my living quarters were on. I still had a few things to do before bedtime, but there was enough time to share some kind of short activity with Poppy first.
"So, Poppy, what would you like to do next?"
"Well, actually… Do you have any scrapbooking supplies? I used up a lot of mine today on the Unofficial Ice Cream Date scrapbook."
"Poppy, when have you ever known me to not have every type of supply there is?" I said wryly. "I even have glitter."
"Ooo! Glitter!"
I had to smile at the way my girl's rosy-pink eyes sparkled, even without glitter. The enchanting sight brought on a familiar urge to write. Talking philosophy with Poppy had put me in a poetic state of mind, and I felt inspired, ready to indulge in a satisfying bout of creativity.
Plus, I need to get the words to that poem I started in the twins' tent down before I forget them. And the twins were so supportive today. All our friends were. They spent the entire Beadfest supporting our relationship. I just… I can't even… I don't even have the words to thank them. Then I recalled my friend's enthralled faces as I recited my poetry earlier. I blinked. Or do I...?
-O-
The tour over, Branch led her back to the lift. As they rose upward, he said, "Hey, Poppy, if you don't mind, instead of scrapbooking tonight, I'm going to update my journal. I didn't get the chance to write in it yesterday, for some reason," he gave her a fond look, "and there's some important things I want to record before I forget them."
"Seriously? You'd forget that we're dating if you didn't write it down?" she said in astonishment.
"No, I meant I want to record the details for the last couple of days. You know, important conversations, love poetry, life epiphanies, the usual stuff."
"Wow. I can't wait to read it," she beamed enthusiastically at him.
Branch held up his hands. "Whoa, whoa, Poppy, my journal is private!"
"Why, because you were hiding the fact that you were secretly in love with me?"
"I-" He blinked. "Oh. Um. Yeah. But still…I'd prefer it if you didn't read my journals. Okay, Poppy?"
She swallowed, a twinge of guilt reddening her cheeks, and she quickly looked down. "Okay, Branch."
He showed her where he kept his scrapbooking supplies and left. Poppy gathered what she needed and returned to the living room to wait for him, trying to ignore her uneasiness at his absence. The room felt a lot more empty when he wasn't there.
A few minutes later he came back from his bedroom, and her heart sank at the sight of a very familiar journal clenched in his hands.
"Poppy, did you read my journal?"
"Nnnn…" She winced at his dark scowl. "Yesss…" she said sheepishly. "H-how did you know?"
"It was misaligned on the shelf. And my blanket was off-center by almost an inch."
She tried to brush it off. "Oh, Branch, what's the big deal? I wouldn't mind if you read my journal. Not that I have one, but I do have a few personal scrapbooks that I don't show to most trolls. You can read them if you want. Honestly, it's just not as big of an issue as you're making it out to be."
His face fell, and Poppy was instantly sorry. She took a step toward him, reaching out a hand, but he turned his back to her, hugging the book against his chest. "Don't do that. You don't get to decide how big a deal it is, Poppy. You know how important my privacy is to me!"
"But we're dating now!" she protested. "And today, you told me all about your foster dads, and other stuff you never told me before. I thought it was all right."
"Did you really?" He turned to face her, and her insides quailed at the cold, closed look on his face. It was as if the last year had never happened. Suspicious blue eyes glared at her from under dark brows, as if she were the enemy.
Her eyes stung, and the last of her protest evaporated. Guilt flooded her body. "I'm sorry, Branch. You're right. I knew what I was doing might hurt you, but I did it anyway. I don't blame you for being mad at me," she choked out, her voice pinched and rough. "I'm really, really sorry!"
He was silent.
She couldn't bear his glare any longer, and she buried her face in her hands. What have I done? What if he stops loving me?
There was a long, crushing silence.
Then he spoke. "Poppy… I'm not mad at you." She looked up to see the fierce look gone, replaced by lines of strain on his face, and a voice full of pain. "I'm upset. And hurt. Really, really hurt. And…I'm disappointed in you."
Her stomach twisted. This was worse than almost choking to death. The lump in her throat might as well have been a piece of popcorn, cutting off her voice. She could still breathe enough to cry, though.
And he didn't hug her.
So she hugged herself, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I'm sorry…" She could feel herself dimming for the third time that day, but then he took her gently by the shoulders and she managed to meet his eyes, squinting through the burning wetness.
His blue eyes shone with gentle compassion. "Oh, Poppy, I didn't mean to make you cry. I'm sorry, too. It's just that… I need to know that I can trust you. You understand that, don't you?"
She hiccupped and nodded, feeling her ears dip in shame.
"I'm a lot more open than I used to be, but at heart, I'm still a private troll." His shoulders lifted in a shrug. "Having my privacy violated is a big deal, to me. And some of the private things that I do share with you, I need to be able to trust that you won't share them with anybody else."
She nodded again. "Sorry," she said again.
"And you know, it goes both ways. You can tell me anything; you know that, right? Even things you don't feel comfortable telling anybody else. And I won't share them, not unless you say it's okay. That's what being a couple means, Poppy. To me, anyway. And I hope that it means the same to you."
She sniffled and rubbed her eyes. Branch relented and went and got a cool cloth, and then it was her turn to have her face tenderly washed, just as she had done for him after his bad dream.
The short break gave her time to calm down. It also gave her time to think.
"Branch, I guess I thought…being a couple means not having any secrets between us. That's what trust means to me."
"It does?"
"But…I guess I can live with it, if that's what you need to keep on loving me..."
Branch looked stunned. "Oh, Sunshine, is that what you thought?" He wrapped her up into his arms, cuddling her lovingly against his warm body. "I didn't mean it like that. And I will never, ever stop loving you, certainly not over something like this. You just made a mistake. No mistake will ever stop me from loving you."
Her lip trembled. "Oh, Branch!" She almost burst into tears again, hugging him back fiercely.
The pink troll let the feel of him breathing against her soothe her for a while, until he said softly, more to himself than to her, "I should really destroy those journals."
"No!" She jerked away. "Don't do that!"
He looked taken aback by her vehemence. "Poppy, I've told you before; I'm trying to look forward, not backward. I don't want to keep bringing up the past. All those bad feelings and memories-"
"I promise I'll never read them again unless you say I can, but please, don't destroy them," she pleaded. "They're part of your past. Besides, if it helps, I only read a few pages."
Surprisingly, he stiffened. "Didn't like what you saw, huh?" He gave her one of his old, cynical glances. "I don't blame you."
"That's not it. I stopped because I felt so bad for you." Her gaze dropped and her voice went husky. "I'm sorry you had to go through it all alone. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."
He blinked. "I- Really? But… Weren't you disgusted, to see how…how negative I was, how bitter?"
"Branch." She went up to him and took his face in her hands, smiling gently into his eyes. "I have known you my entire life. There is no part of you that I couldn't love, even in your darkest, most unhappy times. You don't ever have to be afraid of that."
His expressive eyes flowed with his thoughts. "Then… I won't destroy them. And I'll think about letting you read them."
"I really hope you do, Branch. Because I want to know everything about you. Especially the sides I never knew about, or only caught glimpses of once in a while, when you didn't know I was looking. Those glimpses were always so enticing."
"Enticing?" His ears lifted a little. "Really?"
"You have no idea. And every new discovery feels like this…" she waved her hands in the air, "amazing gift. I'd love to hear your thoughts, and your dreams…and not just recent ones. I want to get to know who you used to be."
"No, you don't. Besides, I'm not the same person anymore. There's a lot of things I believed then that I don't anymore."
"I know you aren't. But I also know that it's painful for you to talk about a lot of things from your past, so maybe it'd be easier to let your past self tell me; to let his voice speak to someone who cares."
"Poppy…" His voice choked off and she caught the sheen of tears in his eyes. He cleared his throat a couple of times before saying quietly, "Well… How about for now, I'll let you read today's journal entry."
She hugged him. "Deal!"
Author's Note:
Thanks to WildKat25 for beta-reading and offering suggestions in regard to psychology and healthy relationships. Your counsel is very much appreciated. :)
By the way, at the beginning of chapter 31, Poppy essentially has an anxiety attack but doesn't know it.
Snerk – my name for "the little sound" Poppy makes when she laughs, the one Branch sings about in Perfect for Me from Trolls World Tour. It's a quick puff of air, almost a snort but not quite, since she mostly makes it with her mouth rather than her nose.
I'mafanofFANFICTIONS left me a thoughtful review with some points I'd like to address:
So some of the advice I got from WildKat25 was that Poppy was doing the wrong thing when she was like, "It's not as big a deal as you're making it out to be." WildKat25 said that's called "diminishing" and that it's a red flag, when someone tries to make what they did seem less bad/ less important. So I had Branch call her out on it. "Don't do that." and "You don't get to decide if it's a big deal" since of course, SHE did this to HIM.
I thought was also important for him to make sure she knew exactly how it affected him. He needed to tell her his feelings (upset, hurt, disappointed). And that his trust in her was shaken. Basically, tell her the truth instead of angrily calling her names, which would only make things worse. It's not constructive because it won't lead to the outcome he wants; no more journal reading, and feeling that it's safe to trust Poppy.
So I had Poppy realize just how deeply it had affected him, and naturally, she was sorry and sincerely apologized, which is not always easy to do in the middle of a fight, but sincere (not grudging) apologies are necessary for healthy relationships, for healing. WildKat25 also said that Branch should make sure she knew that he wouldn't stop loving her or that their relationship was over just because she made a mistake, especially because she did apologize.
They aren't always going to be lovely dovey. As Branch told Cherry Blossom, he knows they are going to have conflicts because they are so different, so with the journals I saw an opportunity to address one of the main ones, Branch's need for privacy vs. Poppy's need for no secrets. So they compromised, as couples do. And that made Branch feel that he might just be able to trust her to keep loving him even if she read what was in the journals, and so he's thinking about changing his mind and letting her read them, which would not have happened if they'd just done a bunch of arguing and complaining.
I hadn't thought about what secrets might be in her personal scrapbooks, but now I'm gonna have to come up with something, haha!
I wanted Poppy to feel at home in Branch's bunker. It's not a pod, but that doesn't mean it can't be a home. Also, it made a good storyline, having Poppy becoming a little too dependent on his bunker to feel safe, as we shall see...