Floyd was sleepy, but he couldn't sleep. He had been so tired all day. He'd woken up with his head and eyes feeling heavy. It reminded him of how he felt when he was sick, or stayed up too late or woke up far too early. It was weird and made him feel more emotional than usual.
Floyd had spent all day wanting to go to sleep. He wanted to snuggle with his favorite stuffed animal, listen to a good bedtime story, and just rest. But their concert was in just two more weeks and John Dory was working them harder and longer. Floyd still liked practicing, but it wasn't as fun as it used to be.
Things had changed in their family in the past few weeks. Floyd thought that a lot of the changes were good, but it was weird and it would take him time to get used to it.
John Dory seemed to be more stressed than usual. He was trying to get everything right for their concert, and all of them were still making simple mistakes at practice. Floyd's mistakes were on purpose, but John Dory didn't know that. He just saw more flaws than normal, and it was stressing him.
Floyd felt bad for making his big brother put even more pressure on himself, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. John Dory was starting to be sterner and ask more of them, but there weren't as many fights breaking out between the brothers. Spruce rolled his eyes and Clay scoffed, but they didn't fight John Dory, because they weren't the ones he was focusing most of his criticisms on.
It was actually kinda hard to mess up on purpose. Floyd couldn't just mess up the same way every time, because then John Dory would think that he was ignoring his corrections and didn't care about the show. Sometimes Floyd had to sing too loud, or too quiet. He had to make his voice sound weird. He had to sing the wrong part of a song, even though he knew it by heart.
Floyd didn't know how hard it would be to mess up something that he knew so well. And when Floyd wasn't actively trying to mess up he had to keep on reminding himself of how the song was supposed to go. All of his mistakes were getting jumbled in his head, and now he had to make an effort to do things the right way.
The dancing bits were the hardest. Floyd already struggled with his dancing. He could get the moves down okay, but it didn't feel natural. He felt like his facial expressions were all wrong, and the dancing didn't come as naturally to him as it did to Clay. Floyd had always had to work extra hard to just match his brothers in moves and energy. That had always been hard enough to do without the extra challenge that came with stumbling over his own two feet or messing up a pose on purpose so that John Dory didn't notice that Clay was dragging his feet and Spruce was getting the order of moves mixed up.
He still thought that what he was doing was for the best. His brothers weren't fighting, and he got special attention from them. Clay would read to him and tell him his own private stories that he'd made up and hadn't told anybody else about. Spruce would lift Floyd onto the counter and let him help make dinner instead of telling him to go play.
John Dory even stopped rehearsal more than an hour early one night because Floyd was a little too enthusiastic about tripping and he ended up scraping his knee pretty badly. John Dory had stopped practice, carried him home, wiped away his tears and took care of the scrape, all without scolding him about his mistake.
Everything was going great. So what if Floyd was a little more tired than usual, and it was getting harder and harder to sleep? It was manageable. He was fine. His brothers were happy. Nothing was wrong.
Floyd knew all of this, but lying in his bed, wide awake despite how tired he was, with no brothers to distract him, he still felt like everything was wrong.
His chest was tight and his cheeks were wet. He'd already cried three times tonight for no real reason, and he didn't want to do it again. He just wanted to sleep. He didn't want his thoughts to go back over every little thing he'd done wrong that day, whether it had been on purpose or genuinely on accident. He didn't want to think about what he should have done, and how he was supposed to be better. His brain wasn't normally so mean, but tonight it wouldn't stop telling him that he should know how to stop his brothers from fighting without making John Dory's job harder, and he was failing his family because while this was the best he could do it just wasn't good enough.
A short sob came out of his mouth before he could stop it. He pressed his hands tightly over his mouth to muffle any more cries, but now that he had started he knew he wouldn't be able to stop. He didn't want to wake his brothers, and trying to fall asleep was getting him nowhere, so Floyd quietly got out of bed and left their bedroom.
He wasn't used to not being able to sleep. He'd heard Grandma talk about it sometimes, and there were times when John Dory couldn't sleep because he had been hit with inspiration and if he didn't write his thoughts out then they would eat at him all night. But hearing his loved ones talk about not being able to sleep was different than feeling it himself. He didn't know what to do with this. Did he give up on sleeping? Did he lay in bed for another few hours and wait to doze off?
Not knowing what else to do, Floyd went into the kitchen and reached for a mug. Spruce liked warm drinks before bed because they relaxed him. Maybe that could help Floyd too. He climbed onto the counter and reached for the cupboard where their mugs were. They were barely out of reach. Floyd pouted and stretched a little more. He could reach it.. He was so close.
Floyd adjusted himself and stood on his tiptoes. He could feel the mugs at the tips of his fingertips, but he couldn't get a grip around it. He accidentally pushed the mug back further, and he groaned in frustration. This wasn't working.
"What are you doing?" Floyd yelped when he heard John Dory's voice. Surprised, Floyd lost his balance and stumbled backwards. He would have crashed to the ground, but he felt a protective grip of hair around him. He was slowly and gently lowered to the ground and he blinked in shock at the soft descent.
"Floyd!" John Dory sounded worried. He started to look Floyd over. "Are you okay? You're not hurt, are you?"
"I'm fine." Floyd said. He had just been shocked. John Dory didn't look like he completely believed him.
"What were you doing up there?" John Dory asked. "You could have hurt yourself."
Floyd shifted uncomfortably. He knew he wasn't in trouble, and that John Dory's somewhat stern voice was just because he was worried. But this was the voice that John used when he was correcting Floyd's mistakes, and his brain was still too overwhelmed from the dumb thoughts that had kept him from falling asleep. He couldn't help but grow tense.
"I-I wanted hot chocolate." Floyd said quietly. Now that John Dory had seen that he wasn't hurt his expression softened.
"Did you have a nightmare?" John Dory asked as he reached up with his hair and grabbed two mugs with ease. He started to prepare the drinks. "I heard you crying."
Floyd wiped at his eyes, though by now they were practically dry. "No nightmare. I-I couldn't sleep."
John Dory paused slightly and Floyd could almost see the wheels in his head turning. It was always interesting to watch John Dory think. It wasn't a quiet thing. It was always clear when John Dory was trying to figure something out.
He looked at the mugs and then towards the cupboards they had been in. There was an almost blank look on John Dory's face before he blinked and looked at Floyd, a small and understanding smile on his face.
"Why didn't you use your hair to get a mug?" John Dory asked. Floyd felt his ears droop ever so slightly at the question.
"Oh." He looked at his hands. "My hair…uh, it's not working right." Floyd said. He hurried on before John Dory could panic. "It's okay, I think, it's just weird sometimes. It doesn't always grow or hold things the way I want it to."
John Dory didn't look scared or surprised. He nodded in understanding, and Floyd felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. "That happens sometimes." John said. Now that the milk was heating up he sat down at the table and Floyd joined him. "How long has this been going on for?"
"Just a few days, I think." Floyd said. He hadn't really paid attention too much. "Maybe a week?"
"Around the same time when you started struggling with dancing?" John Dory asked. "And when your voice started to do things that you didn't want it to do?"
Floyd's chest tightened. John Dory had noticed that this had all started out of nowhere. Was Floyd going to get in trouble after all? John didn't seem mad, but sometimes when he got dangerously mad he didn't look or sound like it, and it was confusing and a little scary. He nodded nervously.
"I get it." John Dory said, and he really sounded like he did.
"You do?" Floyd was worried he had been found out.
"Of course I do." John Dory snorted. He gave Floyd a soft smile. "I've done the whole puberty thing before."
Floyd blinked. He felt lost. "Puberty?"
"Spruce talked to you about it." John Dory waved his confusion away. "You know, that whole thing with your body going through sudden changes. You're starting to grow up, and it's going to take your body time to catch up to itself. Some limbs grow faster than others, which is probably why you're tripping over everything. Voices change, which is a pain for musicians. Mood swings for no reason. Uncooperative hair. It's all totally normal."
Floyd was stunned. He had thought that his hair was acting up because of stress, because no matter how much he told himself he was okay his body and mind were acting like he wasn't. He'd definitely been messing up at rehearsals on purpose, but John Dory sounded like he knew what he was talking about, and even when Floyd knew he was wrong he couldn't help but believe he was right.
"But Spruce said this is a teenager thing." Floyd said. He could remember when Clay went through that puberty thing. But Floyd wasn't even ten yet.
John Dory shrugged. "Some trolls get it earlier. Some trolls get it later. I had some friends who weren't much older than you when they started to go through puberty.
"...Huh." Floyd looked at his hands. Was that what was happening? He didn't think so, but what if it was?
"I wish you had talked to me earlier." John Dory said. "This can be scary to go through alone. I remember how confused and scared I was when it happened to me, and I didn't have anybody around to tell me it was normal. That I wasn't a freak that was losing my mind."
Floyd wanted to hug his brother, but he knew John Dory wouldn't like it. John loved to give hugs, but he didn't like receiving them. He didn't say so, but Floyd knew it made him feel small and helpless, like he wasn't strong enough to take care of himself.
So instead Floyd wrapped his arms around himself. "Milk." He muttered, because he knew his brother would have forgotten. Sure enough John Dory's eyes widened. He went to get the hot milk, adding chocolate and a touch of cinnamon. Floyd knew John Dory didn't like hot chocolate with cinnamon, but Floyd did, and it was nice to see his brother do this for his sake.
"Here." John Dory handed Floyd a mug and ruffled his hair. "I know you've been having a hard time with singing. I don't know if your voice is, like, changing or if it's just not doing what you want when you sing."
Floyd gripped tightly at the mug, even though it was uncomfortably warm. How was he supposed to tell John Dory that his voice was doing exactly what he wanted? That he wanted it to go wrong.
"Maybe I can help you learn your parts." John Dory said. "Some one-on-one workshopping."
Floyd's guilt and unease went away in an instant, replaced with excitement. "Really?!"
John Dory laughed at his eagerness. "Of course. If we can't sleep, we might as well do something useful, right?" Floyd nodded enthusiastically. John Dory smiled, looking just as excited. "Come on."
Food and drink, besides water, weren't normally allowed in the music room, but John Dory made exceptions for late-night sessions when he needed something to munch on while he worked. He made Floyd promise to be super careful to spill his drink. He agreed easily, feeling honored to be allowed to break the rules like this. Being allowed to have hot chocolate in the music room meant that John Dory trusted him to be responsible. It felt like a big deal.
Floyd couldn't remember the last time he had done singing practice that was just him and John Dory. He was always willing to give advice if they asked for it, but John Dory was busy, and they were all good enough that they should be able to learn their parts on their own. To be able to get help like this, it felt nice and special.
He sipped on his hot chocolate as John Dory jumped right into his lesson. He started by talking about Floyd's part, going over his notes and words and giving him tips on how he could remember and do better. The more he talked the more his rambling changed topics. Soon he was going on about music theory and his thought process behind his writing, and Floyd loved all of it. He could hear John talk about his music all night, and it was clear that he liked to talk about it as much as Floyd liked hearing it.
"You really like music." Floyd said after about an hour. John Dory gave him an amused look.
"All trolls do." He said.
"No, I mean you really like it." Floyd said. "You know everything about music."
John Dory's smile turned just a little sad. "Not everything. I just want to make music that trolls really connect to, you know? But that meant that I needed to figure out what it is about music that we connect to. Is it the rhythm? The lyrics? The instrumentals? The notes? A combination of all of them? I have to really think about it for every single song."
"That's so cool." Floyd was always in awe of his older brothers, but that admiration skyrocketed. "I wish I could connect with trolls through my music." Floyd didn't write songs, and he had no interest in doing so, but he wanted to be able to sing in a way that really resonated with trolls. He didn't just want to sound good, he wanted to sound real.
"Are you kidding?" John Dory leaned closer to him. "You do. The way you sing, it's something else. You can hear the emotion in your tone. I could never do that."
Floyd frowned. "But being emotional makes my notes sound strained and off-key." He loved singing when he was sad, as it was really cathartic, but he hated letting anyone else hear him like that because he knew that it wasn't perfect.
"It also makes you genuine." John Dory said. "You're real with who you are, and it shows in your music. The audience can hear it, and they love it."
Floyd's voice tightened. He wasn't upset, but he was getting emotional again. "Really?" He thought that his sensitivity was holding him back, and that he was just known as the sensitive one so they'd have an excuse if he ever started crying and messing up at a concert. That the audience would just see it as part of the show.
"Really." John Dory said. "Your voice gives everything you sing heart and soul. Talent and hard work is important in this business, yes, but passion is what really separates an artist from just a musician."
There were tears in Floyd's eyes. He shuffled closer to his brother and hugged him. John Dory sighed contently and hugged him back. Floyd was still tired, and far too emotional for the middle of the night, but he felt content. Far more content than he could ever remember being. He was just comfortable, and at peace, and home.
"John!" Floyd and John Dory both jolted when they heard the furious shout. They turned to see Spruce glaring at them from the doorway. "Do you have any idea what time it is?" He stormed into the room and picked up Floyd, who yelped at the sudden movement. Spruce held him closely but didn't stop glaring at John Dory.
The peaceful feeling slipped away, leaving Floyd feeling cold and anxious. They'd been doing so well. His brothers hadn't fought in days, and their last real fight had been a really small one. But now Spruce was mad and John had that defensive look in his eyes. They were going to fight, and it was going to be bad."
And it was going to be about him.
"We were just practicing." John Dory said tensely, and Floyd's chest tightened. That wasn't right. They'd been doing far more than that. John Dory had eased his anxieties, and taught him so much, and gave Floyd something that he'd been longing for. Practicing had very little to do with all of this, but Spruce wouldn't know that.
"It's the middle of the night." Spruce said in a low, dangerous tone. "He's supposed to be asleep. Not practicing."
"He was helping." Floyd protested, but it didn't do any good. "I couldn't sleep."
"Then he should have brought you back to bed and given you cuddles until you fell asleep." Spruce hissed. How could he make something so nice sound so mean? He glared at John Dory. "What kind of a troll sees a little brother struggling to sleep, and decides that it's a good time to really hammer it in how imperfect they are?" Spruce's face looked downright dangerous now. "What kind of a brother does that?"
Floyd made a wounded sound. He felt like something inside of him broke. He buried his face in Spruce's shoulder.
"Please, don't." Floyd sobbed. "Please, please. I'm sorry." He didn't want them to fight. Not at all, and especially not about him.
Spruce sighed and kissed Floyd's forehead. "Okay. No more fighting. No more yelling." Floyd knew the fight was just being postponed until they knew that he was asleep and wouldn't hear them. He was glad he wouldn't be able to hear them yell, but he didn't want them to fight behind his back either. That broke his heart just as much, but he couldn't make it stop. He was trying, but it wasn't quite enough.
"Hold on." Spruce carried him out of the room. "Let's get you back to bed." Floyd forced his face away from the comfort of Spruce's shoulder. He looked to see that John Dory was still standing in the music room, a blank look on his face. He didn't look like he intended to leave for the rest of the night. Floyd's chest hurt so much that he felt like it was actually going to kill him.
He cried and wailed. Spruce just rubbed his back and held him comfortingly. It felt nice, but it made Floyd's chest hurt even more. He couldn't take it.
"It's okay." Spruce cooed, and it was a shocking contrast from the cold anger in his tone just a minute okay. "You're okay." They returned to the bedroom. The light was on and Clay was sitting on his bed reading. The second he saw them he practically threw his book aside, which Floyd had never seen him do before.
"What happened?" Clay asked. Spruce just shook his head and turned off the light. He climbed into his bed and laid Floyd next to him. Clay climbed into the bed with them, curling up on Spruce's other side.
Floyd just cried. He thought Spruce would try to calm him, or that Clay would at least press a pillow over his ears to muffle the sound, but they didn't. The three of them just laid together on Spruce's bed. Eventually Floyd's tears dried, but the ugly feeling in his chest didn't go away.
"There you go." Spruce said quietly as he ran a hand through Floyd's hair. "I'm sorry I scared you."
"H-he was helping me." Floyd whimpered between sobs. Spruce hummed in clear disagreement, and it made Floyd want to start crying again. Why couldn't his brothers just get along?
"He's been really hard on you lately." Spruce said.
"I knew it was just a matter of time." Clay said. Spruce shushed him harshly, and Clay just nuzzled closer to him.
"He was really nice tonight." Floyd said. Clay scoffed and Floyd felt his cheeks get warm. "He was."
"Even if he was, it wasn't the right time to do it." Spruce said. "It's too late."
Floyd whimpered and just curled in on himself. Spruce didn't believe him. He didn't think that John Dory could have done something good, he just focused on what he'd done wrong. It didn't matter that Floyd couldn't sleep and his thoughts were harsher than John Dory could ever be. It didn't matter that John Dory made him feel better than he had in a long time. It was just wrong, and Floyd didn't understand it.
Spruce and sometimes Clay gave him quiet reassurances and cuddles, and Floyd hated it. The contact felt nice, but he didn't deserve this. He was supposed to be making things between his brothers better, not worse.
Today had been a bad day, but he'd do better tomorrow. He had to, because he couldn't take another night like this. He'd taken John Dory's attention off of Spruce and Clay, but apparently he needed to get their attention off of John Dory. He didn't know how he'd do that, but he'd figure it out. He wasn't just going to sit there and let his brothers tear each other apart for no good reason. None of them deserved it.
Floyd was still so tired, but he couldn't sleep. Spruce and Clay eventually dozed off, and Floyd was alone with his thoughts feeling worse than ever. He didn't get any sleep that night, and John Dory never came back to bed.