AN: Hiya, guys! I know this was supposed to be a one shot but I COULDN'T RESISTTTTT!!

Anyway, this isn't edited yet, soooo… but I'm working on it

Enjoy!

Branch has lost count of the trees he's let his anger out on so far, fire shooting from his fists and all the way up to his elbows as a result from banging them against the hard wood, and his hair sticking out in different angles after pulling at whatever branches came in his face. He knew this wasn't right - snapping at his brothers, telling them to leave, only for him to run away as well. And now, he was battered and bruised, sprawled out on the grassy, muddy floor. He closed his eyes, the sound of rain hitting the leaves that were shielding him fading into the background, drowned out by the thoughts racing in his head. He tried to focus on the simple shower pouring, desperately seeking any sort of comfort. He could feel the tips of his hair getting wet, but he was too careless to even think about moving it under his makeshift ceiling, not like it would hurt anyway, he'll just think of it as the shower he hasn't had for a week. He probably stinked, so whatever.

He would be lying if he didn't say that this was the least of his worries right now. All he could think of was the tantrum he just threw a few ago, in front of everyone. What did they think of him now? That he was a beast? A monster? He groaned, trying to push these thoughts to the back of his head.

But they always found a way to resurface. He groaned again, a voice that echoed between the trees as he tried to calm his racing thoughts. He's always hated thinking about more than one object at once. He tried to stop thinking, or overthinking, in his state, but his mind was seemingly battling him, sucking out every ounce of calm and peace he had managed to feel so far.

He was screaming. Why couldn't he just rest? He needed a break, a break from everything, his brothers, the village, life itself, if that was an option. He was pacing around, just like he's done back there, and his hands clutched at his hair as if he was replaying the scene. Except that this time, he was crying, rain mixing with the tears that were flowing down his cheeks. He wanted to run away, more away, and leave them behind, just like they have done to him. A part of him wanted to make them feel the pain he felt, wanted them to go through what he's gone through.

Yet another part wanted to believe that they have all faced challenges as well, that they all suffered. So why did it hurt him so much?

"Branch…?"

He looked up. It was Poppy.

Oh no, it was Poppy.

He quickly wiped away his tears with the back of his hands. She wouldn't notice anyway–

"Have you been crying?" Wasn't the rain supposed to hide the tracks?

"No…"

"Branch, you don't have to lie." She sat in front of him. "At least not to me, baby."

"I'm fine-"

"No, you're not. And what are all these scars?" His girlfriend's touch was gentle, yet Branch winced the moment her fingers traced the red marks on his arms. Some were fresh, blood still trickling down his arms and palms, and some were old, already starting to heal. Some were intentional.

"We need to go back, you're not okay–"

"Please…" He was begging. He never begged. But for his girlfriend? He was ready to beg her to stay with him if it cost him his life. "Just stay with me. I-I don't wanna see them right now."

The Queen was torn at this point, torn between the urge to lead the others to Branch and the vulnerability in his voice. He looked so small, so hurt and broken. She didn't want to cause him more pain.

"They probably don't want to see me…" Poppy had hardly heard him. His voice was muffled as he curled up and buried his face in his hands. "I don't blame them, though..."

"Branch, I know you're hurting," she whispered, softly stroking his hair. "Talk to me, let me help you."

"I don't know!" the dull troll suddenly yelled, causing his girlfriend to flinch. "They hurt me so much! So much, Poppy!"

"I know–"

"I'm tired! Every time I think everything is fine, something comes up! I didn't want them to come, they reopened wounds I've been trying to close for so long! And they're expecting me to be okay! I'm not okay!"

All Poppy could do was listen as her boyfriend poured his heart out. He sounded as if he'd been bottling up his emotions for so long, the way he was crying and stumbling over his words, face scrunched up and arms aimlessly flailing around as he desperately tried to communicate his feelings. But she didn't dare interrupt him, not even to help him explain. He had to talk, he needed to, by himself, and if it meant she had to listen to his incoherent speech, so be it.

"I just want– I don't know!" He went on, the words unconsciously flowing out of his mouth without even making any sense, even to him. He couldn't take it anymore.

"I hate them–"

"You don't," she blurted out, and immediately felt her boyfriend's glare on her. "You don't hate them."

Of course he did. They hurt him, they left and never came back. Even Floyd. And a thought was telling him he wouldn't be in this position right now if it weren't for his brother getting kidnapped. The dull troll closed his eyes. They wouldn't have made the tiniest bit of effort in checking on him, so why can't he hate them? John? John thought he was dead, and Branch tried to force himself that his brother shed at least a tear over him.

But he didn't know, and it only made him more confused and angry.

"I know what it feels like…" His girlfriend smiled sadly, unaware that her voice cut through the mess in his head just in time. "Someone you love hurting you…"

He perked up. Had he accidentally hurt her?

"I-I'm-I-"

"Not you, Branch," she assured him. "Dad…"

It made sense, Branch thought, slightly calming down. At least it wasn't about him anymore.

"He kept my own sister a secret from me, because of his own fear, and… I was the one who suffered the consequences…" She paused. "Do you even know how many things me and Veevs could've done by now, if only I went out there and looked for her earlier? We could've done a million things, Branch, so many things that I fear we don't have much time to do it all now."

He smiled. It was never enough time for Poppy.

"And the whole Trolls tribes thing… we could've united everyone before the Rock Apocalypse thing ever happened… but he kept it from me…" She frowned. "He kept a lot of secrets from me, secrets that could've changed my life, and I was super mad at him for that…"

It seems like he wasn't the only one who needed to be real in this relationship. How long has she been feeling this way?

She waited, and, seeing no reaction, the girl continued. "Sometimes I even fear he might be hiding something else, you know?" She chuckled. "He hurt me, so much… but I never hated him. I could never hate him."

Her father was there, his brothers weren't.

"Because he loves me." Her face slowly lit up, making her boyfriend's do so as well, even if it was barely visible. "I see it in the way he tries to make it up to me every day, and I know that he cares." She reached out, gently taking his dull, cold hands into her bright, warm ones and giving them a reassuring squeeze. "So believe me when I tell you that I know how it feels."

He sighed. "I just feel so lost and confused, you know?"

"I know, love."

He closed his eyes again, his head leaning against the tree behind him. "I don't hate them, I'm just mad…" His head hung low. "They're probably mad, too, and I don't blame them…"

"Stop right there, mister," the pink troll interrupted firmly, "Whoever told you they're mad?"

"Well, I did attack them." He shrugged. "I wouldn't be surprised if they don't want to see me."

"Branchifer." She cupped his face, forcing him to meet her gaze. She made a mental note to keep an eye on him, he was getting warm. "Your brothers have been miserable." She dramatically extended the last word, her fingers stroking his cheeks in an affectionate gesture. "You don't know what they've been through since last week."

"Are… are they okay?"

She smirked. "Worried about them?"

He giggled and swatted her hands away. "Just answer."

"Well, John hasn't been sleeping, Bruce is constantly angry, Clay hasn't read a single book since then, which is, sooo not Clay, and Floyd, well-"

He sat straight. "Is he okay?!"

"I told you, you care about them!"

"Poppy!"

She laughed, her hair tips getting exposed to the rain. "Alright, alright." She composed herself, wiping away the few droplets that had slid down her forehead. "Seriously, though, he's been crying non-stop for days."

"So they're… not mad?"

"Not in the slightest." A beat. "They're mad at themselves."

"They are?" Huh, maybe they did care after all.

"Yeah." She stayed silent for a few seconds, giving her words a chance to sink in. "They've been looking for you since the forest went silent."

Went silent? Then he remembered that he had been lying in this spot for days, and the forest's been silent since then, devoid from his screams and tantrums.

"They're probably waiting inside Rhonda right now," Poppy said with a smile, "Wanna let them know you're okay?"

Maybe that wasn't the best idea. Branch was hiding his face behind his hands again.

"It's okay," Poppy quickly said, "It's okay not to be okay."

He looked at her, and for a second, she swore she saw the broken child he was years ago. "I need more time…"

"It's okay," she assured him.

His head leaned against the shoulder of his girlfriend, seeking comfort only she could provide. He felt better. Poppy always made him feel better.

She suddenly got up, making the head resting on her shoulder almost make contact with the grass. "Get up," she ordered, "You can stay at my place till you're feeling better."

His lips contracted in a hesitant pout. "We'll cuddle?" He asked hopefully.

"We'll cuddle all night."