Floyd liked to think that he had grown-up a lot in the past twenty years, but there were two things about him that he knew had never changed, and probably never would. He was overly emotional and sensitive, and he was a coward.

He'd been like this ever since he was a little kid. Floyd remembered being called a cry-baby a lot, and not just by some of the meaner kids in the tree. The grown-ups around them thought he cried too much. His brothers definitely thought he cried too much. They tried to comfort him, but he'd always known that they thought it was a little annoying. He literally cried over spilled milk. More than that, one time he had cried about a glass of milk that he'd accidentally dropped the week before.

He couldn't help it. John Dory always used to stroke his hair and tell him that he just had a really big heart, and his feelings were too strong for his little body. So Floyd cried to let his feelings out rather than keep them in and let them build up until they boiled over and came out in an overwhelming explosion.

Floyd had thought that he would get better after becoming a big brother, because only babies cried this much. When that didn't happen, he thought he would get better when they weren't performing anymore, because he was just too stressed. After the band broke up, Floyd believed he was still crying just because he was sentimental and still missing his brothers.

Finally, after having run out of excuses twenty years ago, Floyd knew there was no reason for this. He was just a crier, and he hated it just as much as those around him did.

But Floyd would take crying any day if it meant that he wasn't a coward, but that was a part of him too. A part of him that others probably didn't see, but that he'd been aware of since he'd just been a little kid.

Floyd had always been scared of a lot of things, and when he got scared he ran away from the problem instead of fixing it. He'd been doing it as long as he could remember, even back before Branch was hatched.

Floyd had always struggled with school. He could learn just fine, it was the socializing that hit him too hard. One or two of the kids were mean to him, making a game out of trying to make him cry. What they had done wasn't that bad, and little Floyd could have dealt with it, he knew he could have, but he didn't. Instead he ran to John Dory and cried about what was going on.

His big brother had tried to talk to the teacher, and then he tried to talk to the parents of the kids, but nothing changed. Floyd was just told to ignore it and not be so sensitive, as though that was something he could help. Spruce and Clay had tried to teach Floyd how to stand up for himself without fighting, and how to toughen up a bit, but he was scared. When John Dory asked if he wanted to stay home and be taught by his brother instead, Floyd agreed. He ran away from school because it was easier.

Floyd could forgive his child self for hiding from his problems if it weren't for the fact that he just kept doing the same thing.

When his brothers fought, Floyd didn't get involved. He hated hearing them fight, and he tried to calm them afterwards, but he didn't get in the middle of it. He'd thought about trying to get them to calm down once, when John Dory and Spruce were getting especially loud, but when young Floyd opened his mouth to interject, Spruce slammed his fist on the table. Floyd got scared, and he didn't say anything. He just retreated into their room and pulled the blanket over his head to try to muffle the sound of his brothers yelling.

When his older brothers left home, too angry and upset to stick around, Floyd knew that he should stay. Branch was just a baby, and he needed his big brothers just as much as Floyd needed his. But Floyd didn't know how to be a big brother. He could coddle Branch, but he knew from watching John Dory that there was a lot more to it than that.

John Dory had always been really stressed. Even as a little kid Floyd knew that he shouldered more than he should have to. Through listening to Spruce and Clay talk about how things were when they were younger, and his own memories about his oldest brother before Branch was around, Floyd knew that he wasn't always as stressed and obsessed with perfection.

John Dory had been doting, supportive, and fun. But as time went on and he got more and more responsibilities, he got overwhelmed and completely broke down. He'd left because he'd seen no other way out.

Floyd wasn't surprised his brothers had left. He had always thought it would happen. As they got older John Dory just spent more and more time camping by himself. He'd found Spruce looking longingly at pictures of islands on the ocean, as though he wished he could just teleport there. And Clay slept over at his friends' houses so often that he was probably gone more nights than he was at home.

Floyd's older brothers hadn't been happy at home, and their unhappiness made him feel like he was going crazy. He felt like it was his job to bring his brothers together, and obviously he had failed. The only thing that Floyd had been able to do was keep baby Branch in the dark about how discontent their brothers were. Branch hadn't needed to know about that.

Floyd hadn't done a lot to take care of Branch, at least not compared to his brothers, but it was still overwhelming. He didn't like hiding things from his baby brother. He didn't like putting him back to bed when Branch woke up in the middle of the night, but all of the others were out. And Floyd really hadn't liked hiding under his bed, chewing on a pillow to keep himself from making noise because he didn't want to wake the sleeping baby, but he didn't want to be caught leaving the room either because then his brothers would just get mad all over again.

Floyd hadn't had a lot of responsibilities with his brothers, but they'd been too much for him. When he saw his older brothers leave, he was hit with the realization that he was supposed to be the big brother from then on. What immediately followed was the realization that he couldn't do it. He felt like he couldn't breath at the thought of being the one in charge, and the knowledge that Grandma would be around didn't make him feel any better. She hadn't really helped John Dory. She'd done nothing to stop his brothers from fighting or leaving. Floyd didn't really see why she would help him.

And Floyd had to keep his panicking internal, because if he cried, or shouted, or broke down, he would scare and upset baby Branch more than he already was, and the poor kid didn't deserve that. Floyd didn't want to upset his baby brother, but he was scared to stay and be the one in charge.

So Floyd had left. He ran away from home, just like his older brothers, except they had good reasons. John Dory was driving himself to the brink of exhaustion just trying to keep the rest of them alive. Spruce was lonely and looked like he was homesick, even though he was surrounded by his family. Clay felt like his brothers didn't love or accept him for who he was.

Floyd was just scared. He ran because he was a coward.

And he didn't get better as he grew older. Floyd explored other types of music, and he thought about getting to know the other troll tribes, but he always chickened out. He was scared of being treated as an enemy, so he didn't let himself get close to anybody. He kept any potential friends at arms-length until they eventually left him too.

It took him years to finally go back for Branch, and when he was hit with a hurdle he immediately stopped. He was declared as an enemy of the pop trolls, seen as an outsider, and that had been that. If he was any of his brothers, he wouldn't have stood for it. He would have fought back. He would have snuck in under the cover of darkness to see his baby brother.

But Floyd wasn't one of his brothers. He was just himself, and all he knew how to do when things got hard was to duck his head, cry, and walk away.

He always told himself that he would do better next time, and then the next time would come and nothing would change. So here Floyd was, crying as he ran away again, even though both his heart and his body demanded that he stop.

Floyd gasped for breath as he pushed against the diamond, running desperately as he cried and hated himself for every step he took. His legs were screaming at him. Forget the usual pricks and needles, or the slightly numb stinging that he was used to. It felt like his legs were on fire, and he couldn't feel his hands at all anymore.

His body was demanding that he stop, but he pushed on because he was too scared to stop. At this point he didn't even know what he was running from. He just ran because that was all he was good at.

He should be back with Branch. It was a miracle that his baby brother didn't hate him for leaving him in the first place. He should be taking advantage of this second chance he didn't deserve. He should be getting to know his baby brother. He should be playing the part of a mediator between his brothers.

Instead, Floyd was out here, running away from his brothers because it was easier than facing them. How was he supposed to tell John Dory that he couldn't give him the one and only thing he'd asked of his younger siblings? So what if perfection was an impossible demand? John Dory had raised them, and given up his childhood for their sake. Sucking things up and putting aside their differences for five minutes to achieve the Perfect Family Harmony shouldn't be that much to give him in return. But it was.

And even if John Dory understood, what about Branch? His life had been ruined because they'd abandoned him. He had gone Gray as a child, and still carried that with him. Branch had survived and thrived after so much. And then there was Floyd, who felt like his life was falling to pieces just because he couldn't sing.

That wasn't even it. Floyd could sing. He just couldn't sing perfectly. How could he even consider whining about his slightly flawed talent when Branch had lost everything? Floyd had no right. Especially since he knew that Branch wouldn't have suffered as much and possibly wouldn't have even gone Gray in the first place if Floyd had just stayed.

He wasn't good enough for John Dory, and he was far too flawed and distressed for Branch. So Floyd ran, because he didn't know what else to do.

He kept running until the diamond got caught on a tree root, sending him tumbling to the ground again. He yelped and stumbled, getting his legs tangled up as he hit his shoulder and head on the bottle. His entire body felt like it was in agony. He groaned and curled in on himself as he continued to cry, in pain and mad at himself.

What was he doing? He never should have left his brothers. He wanted John Dory to pull him into his arms and tell him that he was going to be okay, exuding so much confidence that Floyd couldn't help but believe him. He wanted to be with Branch, who was the only brother that he felt like he could actually talk to without judgement.

He wanted Spruce to lift him into his arms and throw him into the air, claiming it was for exercise. He wanted Clay to read stories to him and make him laugh with his silly voices. But his desires weren't right or fair, and Floyd felt like a horrible troll and a bad brother for them. Spruce hadn't liked the pressure of being fit and healthy, and Clay had wanted to be taken seriously. Floyd knew this, but when he missed his brothers he still missed the parts of them that they had hated.

Floyd wiped his eyes, grimacing at the lack of feeling he still had in his hands. He couldn't stand up, but he was able to push himself into a sitting position. He just sat there, still crying because he couldn't make himself stop.

Floyd didn't know how long he was sitting there, but by the time he could gather himself enough to just take a deep breath and look around, it had gotten dark. Floyd's breath got caught in his throat as he found his fear rising. He wasn't afraid of the dark, but he was terrified of being alone, and the shadows around him were just a reminder of how alone he was.

It was ridiculous that he was even getting scared, because the only reason he was alone was because he'd run off. He had nobody to blame but himself.

He couldn't just sit here and hope for somebody to find him, while at the same time praying that nobody did, because the only ones who would find him would be his brothers, and he didn't deserve them.

Floyd clenched his teeth and forced himself to his shaking feet. He pushed at the diamond, grunting in pain. He actually welcomed the discomfort, because it was an effective distraction from his thoughts.

He kept walking, not knowing where he was going, but needing to get away. He didn't have a real destination in mind until he saw some bright lights. He didn't know what was there, but he was desperate to get there. The lights would cut through the loneliness.

He breathed deeply as he pushed the diamond and his body even more. Just a little more. He could do just a little more. So what if he felt like his body was about to shatter to pieces, and his mind wasn't too far behind? He needed to keep moving, because if he stopped then he'd never be able to stop again.

Floyd followed the lights, only to falter when he got a closer look. The place was massive. Definitely not intended for trolls. This was probably a bergen establishment of some sort. It looked abandoned, but Floyd still felt a rush of fear, and he hated himself for it.

Bergens were dangerous. Everybody knew it. But Floyd wasn't scared because of the risk of being eaten, he was scared because there was the risk of somebody so much bigger than him being around. He'd had a healthy caution for things that were big enough to eat him, but he hadn't let that stop him.

And yet here he was, feeling unable to move and even breath. If someone was bigger than him, then they could pick him up. They could eat him, or hold him captive and steal his talent, or hurt him just because they could.

He shouldn't be here. He needed to leave before something terrible happened, but white Floyd couldn't bring himself to approach, he couldn't leave either. He didn't want to run back into the darkness and his loneliness. He wanted the lights and the warmth they gave. So as scared as he was, Floyd found himself slowly walking towards the open gate.

His heart and head were pounding so much that he felt like he was about to faint. He went inside and looked around. It looked like a mini golf course. It was a frightening looking place, but it was bright and colorful. Just being here he felt more comfortable and safe. He wasn't in the dark, and the place was silent. It didn't seem like anybody was here. Maybe this place really was abandoned.

Floyd rolled the diamond to the base of a light post where everything was bright, but possibly out of sight enough that if anybody arrived, they possibly wouldn't notice him. He curled up at the bottom of the diamond, finally giving his legs the break they had been demanding for a while.

Floyd closed his eyes and hoped that this would all be just a bad dream. He wanted to get a little bit of sleep, and he almost dozed off, but then he heard some rustling and whispers. Floyd gasped and jolted up. He thought he saw movement out of the corner of his eyes, but when he looked there was nothing there.

Floyd's breath was harsh and painful as he pushed himself against the diamond wall. He wanted to run, but he couldn't move his legs, let alone stand up. He was stuck and at the mercy of whatever was lurking in the shadows. Suddenly the light didn't feel comforting anymore. He felt exposed and seen.

"Whoa, whoa, hey, calm down." A comforting voice said. Floyd knew that people could be deceitful, but he trusted the voice enough to cautiously open his eyes and peek out. He saw a troll with the wildest but softest looking pale green hair. This troll held one hand towards Floyd's diamond, and one hand back towards the shadows where he had seen movement. The troll looked like he was trying to appease two different wild animals who were ready to lash out.

"Everyone chill for, like, two seconds." The troll said. He gave Floyd a cautious smile. "We're all trolls. We're all friends here."

Things were quiet for a second before what looked like a golf ball rolled over. Floyd was stunned when a troll popped out of the ball, which was actually their hair. Well, that explained the wild hairstyle. Once that troll appeared, more did. They all looked cautious but eager but curious. Floyd was suddenly hyper aware of the fact that he was still in a cage, trapped. He was still being stared at like he was an animal in a cage.

He jumped when he heard a knock against the diamond. He turned and looked at the green-haired troll with wide eyes. The troll just raised his hands apologetically. "Sorry, man, I thought I lost you there for a second." He gave Floyd a concerned look. "Are you okay?"

No, no he wasn't okay at all. He was scared, and overwhelmed, and he missed his brothers. Tears came to his eyes again and to his embarrassment he started crying again, and it wasn't pretty or quiet.

The green-haired troll didn't look weirded out or judgmental. He just looked at the other trolls. "Hey, guys, can we have some space here? And maybe don't tell Viva we have a visitor just yet. He's a little overwhelmed enough as it is." Some of the trolls chuckled, and they left until Floyd was alone with the green-haired troll, who smiled at him.

"So…do you want to talk about it?" The green-haired troll asked. He didn't sound the least bit awkward.

"I-I just miss my brothers." Floyd said. What else was he supposed to say? It all came back to that. Even when he had them back he still missed them.

The other troll sighed. "Yeah, I get that." He put his hand on the diamond, frowning thoughtfully at it. "So, what's the deal with this thing?" Is it for protection? Or-"

"No, it's a prison." Floyd said. "Trust me, I'd have gotten out of here if I could." He'd tried picking the lock, but somehow the locks of Mount Rageous were different from those of the trolls. Floyd couldn't figure it out, and he'd almost ripped those strands of hair out last time he had tried.

"What are you in a prison for?" The other troll asked. Floyd smiled bitterly as tears fell and he felt like his heart broke. That was the question, wasn't it? Because he'd been locked up by Velvet and Veneer, but there was one very simple reason why he couldn't get out.

Floyd gave this new troll a pained smile. "Because I can't be perfect."