AN: Hiya, guysssssss! Long time no see, I know, sorry about that

However, I'm back with another ficcc… FOUND FAMILY KISMET FIC!

Yup!

Don't know if this will be a two-shot or three-shot thing, but welp, go with the flow, am i right?

Anyway, enjoy!

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That boy is odd

Branch trekked through the forest, searching for more food in case he had to stay in his semi-bunker for the rest of the week. He didn't mind his new life, as long as it kept him safe. He would wake up, search for food and water, collect wood, then go back to complete building his hideout Bergen-proof, survival bunker. Though he would mostly fall asleep on the incomplete pile of dirt

Not his usual smile painting his face, but a dark, emotionless expression plastered on the gray skin.

His face, once lively and animated, now pale and sweat-drenched from working day and night. His entire body, for that matter, was getting thin and weak from the lack of proper nourishment, and the gray look wasn't helping cover it up.

He stumbled upon another stick. Thin, he thought. But he didn't have a choice. Winter was at the doors, and he still needed to find more provisions and secure his shelter if he wanted to survive. He picked it up and placed it in his lap with the others.

He was doing great in surviving so far. Everything was good.

He was fine.

He totally loved himself.

Himself.

He stopped in his tracks, repeating the word. The one who pushed his brothers away.

And the same one who made his grandma meet her fate, leaving him grieving for the life cut short. It was his fault. He ruined everything.

He hated himself. Every part of it.

But he couldn't dwell on the past now. He wasn't allowed to. He had to survive and build his bunker, he had to wait for his brothers– they could be dead, too.

Why hasn't he thought of that?

Chills ran down his spines at the thought, hands unconsciously reaching out to hug himself. The wood was still in his grip, scratching at his skin as the tips of his fingers marked on his arms, but he didn't seem to notice. Crimson red mixed with the colorless sweat as the wood dug its way deeper into his body, doing so little to numb the pain haunting him since that day.

Or even snap him out of his trance-like state.

He longed for someone to sing him to sleep, any sweet melody to softly rock him as he sat in his bed.

But even he cringed at his own voice.

It cracked and hoarsened even when he was simply talking, no longer the angelic one his grandma used to say he had.

He sobbed. It racked his entire being, and his eyes were wide with terror. He wanted to go home, to hide under the makeshift, temporary shelter. So why couldn't he move?

"Are you okay?"

Branch blinked, frantically checking his face. It was dry. He wasn't crying, not yet, and that's when he noticed the blood trickling down his arms.

"Do you need to go to the doctor?"

Branch shook his head, looking up to see the source of the voice. A total contrast of him.

There stood a troll, the usual smile that painted his kind's face filled with concern as he looked at the boy in front of him. He was blue, glittering. He was one of those glitter trolls, Branch figured. They always hurt his eyes when he looked at them. The dull troll eyed the other for a few seconds, a bit mesmerized by the colorful aura he emitted. He was once like that.

"I'm fine," he finally answered.

"You're bleeding," the blue troll insisted, ignoring the orange one pulling at his sleeve.

"I'm fine, thanks," Branch repeated and turned away to leave, the whispers he assumed were about him fading into the background as he disappeared through the forest.

The glitter troll frowned, offering a small goodbye wave before looking at the younger. "Trickee, what's wrong with you?! He probably felt offended!"

"Hype, they say it's contagious!" another yellow, glitter like his friend, troll chimed.

"You really think being gray is contagious, Boom?"

Trickee crossed his arms confidently. "Enlighten us, Mr. Ablaze."

Hype sighed. "It happens when a troll loses the happiness inside of him. It's not contagious, dummies."

"So he's, like, emo?"

Ablaze rolled his eyes, not bothering to hide his smile. "Yes, 'Rick, he's emo."

"Cool-"

"Actually, that means he went through a lot." Hype's gaze shifted to the direction where the mysterious troll had faded, an unsettling sensation rising in his chest. The image of the troll's terrified face kept repeating itself inside his head. "That's not right…"

—--

Hype sat at his desk, cheek pressed against one hand and the other sitting in front of him, drawing random shapes onto the lyrics he was working on. He's heard about that troll before, how he has, in the span of twenty four hours, transformed to the dull, gray troll everyone was now familiar with. But he never thought he would actually interact with him, or semi-interact. It was mostly him talking.

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and staring into the ceiling.

Rumors.

Rumors spread like dandelions in a windy field about that troll.

Sad, some people said. Crazy, others assumed. Bad luck, also on the list. And you can never tell for sure. Huge, scary titles were given to such a small, fragile creature. Yet it seemed no one had enough courage to state any of them. Gray, was the color Trolls feared the most, after Bergens. It was never a good sign for a troll to turn gray. Even worse when the troll in mention was a child, expected to shine with colors like no other.

But he didn't. He was dull, devoid of any signs of happiness, and, to logically justify it, the tribe had laid hands on the 'contagious' theory, their carefree minds refusing to believe that the world wasn't all cupcakes and rainbows - as he heard him say under his breath before he left.

A knock was what dragged Hype out of his head, and the person didn't even wait for a 'come in' before barging in the room.

"Dinner's ready." The blue troll turned to see the second in command leaning against the doorway, arms crossed and a small smile on his face.

"Yeah, thanks, 'Blaze," he mumbled, forcing a smile in return. The other's faded.

"What's on your mind?"

"Is it that obvious?"

His brother nodded. "At least to me, brother."

A sigh. "You don't think he's contagious, do you…?"

"Well, he is young… younger than Boom and Trickee, even." Ablaze paused. "It's just weird, I guess."

Hype looked deep in thought. "What if he went through a tough time? Lost his family, maybe?"

"We all lost our families, Hype," his brother said. It came out darker than he had anticipated. "Maybe he just didn't deal well with it."

"Maybe…"