John Dory's Quick And Concise Guide On How To Survive
Sequel to: It's Like You're My Mirror (Takes place before the BroZone/Kismet performance at Vacay Island shown at the end of Trolls Band Together)
Summary: John Dory's life was amazing. His brothers were back together, he wasn't alone anymore, and he wasn't fighting for his life out on the Neverglade Trail. Everything was perfect, except for one thing… Him. John Dory's been running for a long time, and with the past creeping up on him, threatening to destroy the life and happiness he so desperately wants, John Dory resorts to doing the one thing he hasn't failed at yet.
Surviving.
Author's Note: Okay, I thought this might be kind of fun! A continuation of 'It's Like You're My Mirror' but this time in a little bit of a different style and John Dory's POV, so yay! Enjoy!
John Dory did not need therapy.
Not once in his thirty-six years of life did he ever think he might be walking through the doors to a therapist's office, but here he was, doing just that. Per the insistence of his brothers, of course.
It had been about two months since they had rescued Floyd, and things were really going great. He was living in Pop Village with Branch (well, not exactly with Branch, but close enough), he and his brothers would meet up regularly (typically at Bruce's resort on Vacay Island), and no one in his family was kidnapped/actively being tortured at the moment, so John Dory counted that as a win. Everything was perfect. Except for one thing.
Him. Apparently.
After staying with his brothers the week or so after they rescued Floyd, they might have found out a little more about him than he would have liked. Specifically his crippling fear of being underground, courtesy of not one, but now two cave-ins. This led to some embarrassingly deep conversations that ultimately ended with them insisting he go to therapy and refusing to take no for an answer. John Dory managed to put it off for a while, but today, Branch refused to let him dip out again. His not-so-little brother had practically dragged John Dory by his hair to the therapy pod, not letting go until he had dropped the older troll on the doorstep.
"Trust me, John Dory, this is a good thing," Branch said, his arms crossed in a way that was meant to look intimidating. However, John Dory could only think of it as adorable as he gazed affectionately at his baby brother, despite his growing exasperation at said brother's persistence on this matter. "I came here quite a few times after getting my colors back, and it actually, surprisingly, helped a lot."
John Dory's ears drooped at the mention of his littlest brother's 'gray era,' sharp feelings of guilt and regret cutting through him like a knife. He sighed, holding up his hands in defeat. "Alright, alright, Bitty B. I will go talk to the therapist," he said, turning around and setting his hand on the doorknob, shooting his brother a side eye. "But for the record, I still think it's entirely unnecessary."
Despite saying this, he begrudgingly went inside, knowing very well Branch wouldn't let him go until he did. But at the end of the day, he probably would have done it anyway, even without his littlest brother's stubborn glare drilling daggers into the back of his head. There wasn't anything in the world he wouldn't do for his brothers. Even if it meant going to therapy.
And so, John Dory found himself sitting down in a small, comfy chair. He tried to sit as nonchalantly as possible, but was sure he was failing miserably. His body felt tense, and his skin prickled with anxiety, every fiber of his being screaming that he did not want to be here. The pod was cramped, with a small desk off to the side and piles upon piles of books, more than John Dory had ever seen in one place. And it was hot, way too hot. At least, he thought it must be, because he was sweating like crazy. He pulled nervously at his jacket collar, his ears flicking uneasily as he stared over at the door. But, he set his jaw tightly, and waited. He had told his brothers he would at least try, so he would.
Within a minute, an older troll walked in, smiling kindly as he closed the door behind him. He had dark green skin with silver hair that was curled ever so slightly. He reached out a hand to John Dory, who after a moment of hesitation, reached out and shook it firmly.
"John Dory, right?" the troll asked, adjusting his glasses as he sat down. "I'm Dr. Reed, Pop Village's therapist. It's nice to finally meet you."
"Heh heh, right," John Dory chuckled tightly, not missing the little jab thrown at him by that "finally." Technically, they'd had this appointment booked for weeks, but John Dory had kept finding ways to push it back. That is, until Branch had figured out what he was doing. He clenched his jaw, irritation sparking to life in his chest. "Probably not the best occupation to have amongst the 'happiest creatures on Earth', eh Doc?" John Dory tossed back, giving the older troll a grating grin.
But the troll just laughed, either not picking up on JD's jab or simply choosing to ignore it. "You'd be surprised," he said, crossing a leg over his lap as he pulled a notebook and pen out from his hair. John Dory scratched at his pants uncomfortably before plastering on a smile, turning on some of that "John Dory" charm.
"So, how does this work then?" he asked, trying to keep his voice cool and energetic despite the way his heart seemed to thud loudly in his chest. "You ask me how I feel and I pour out my heart and soul to you in song? 'Cause I gotta tell you, you should really be paying me to hear that."
"Ha, you are funny," Dr. Reed laughed again, shaking his head. "But no. Not exactly. Why don't we start a little easier, alright?" He adjusted his glasses again, poising his pen above his notebook. "What brings you in today?"
"My brothers," John Dory grumbled, rolling his eyes. "They seem to think I need it, so here I am."
"And you don't think you need it?" Dr. Reed asked, to which John Dory just shrugged.
"I mean, yeah, I've got some issues, but so does everyone, right?" he said, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. He leaned back further in the chair, waving his hand dramatically. "And I've been just fine on my own. I don't need some random guy to cry to about my problems." He paused for a moment, reeling himself back. "I'm sorry, was that rude? I'm not trying to be rude," he said hastily.
Dr. Reed shook his head, smiling again. Did this guy ever stop smiling? "No no, it's not rude. I understand. Therapy isn't for everyone. But it can be a good thing. Provides some outside perspective, y'know?"
John Dory thought about that for a moment. "I suppose that does make sense…" he admitted, shifting in the chair uncomfortably.
"Why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself?" Dr. Reed asked, changing the subject.
John Dory blinked, unsure of what to say. "Heh, like what?" he asked, a confused smile stretching across his face. "I feel like I'm a pretty open book…"
"Anything," the older troll replied. "Tell me about your life. What was your childhood like? What brought you back to Pop Village?"
"Oh, uh, alright, yeah. I can do that," John Dory said, clearing his throat as he sat up a little straighter. "Well, I grew up in the Troll Tree with my Mom, Dad, Grandma, and four little brothers. Mom got eaten when I was around… eight, I think? And then Dad left when I was about nine, so then it was just me and my brothers. Grandma helped sometimes, but y'know, she had her own stuff going on, so I just kind of raised them myself."
John Dory rubbed his chin, trying to think. "I started BroZone, y'know, the boy band, to make some cash on the side, and then it really took off. I did that for a while, but then I kinda destroyed it, tearing me and my brothers apart which wasn't great. After that, I lived on my own out on the Neverglade Trail for about twenty years. I stayed in a cave for a while, but then it collapsed and almost killed me, so heh, no more caves after that. I found my armadillo bus, Rhonda, and I lived in her for years until I came back to rescue my brother from giant teenage dolls sucking out his talent. After that, I lived with Branch for a while, got trapped in another cave, if you can believe that, and now I live here." He shrugged. "Not much to tell, really."
John Dory looked up to see Dr. Reed was no longer smiling. His glasses had dropped down onto his nose, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly. Suddenly, John Dory felt very self-conscious, his body tensing up even more than it already had been. Had he said something wrong?
"Sorry," he said quickly, his ears pinning back against the side of his head. He forced a smile to his face, his teeth gritting together slightly. "Am I… doing this wrong?"
Dr. Reed seemed to snap back to reality, pushing his glasses back up and gesturing reassuringly with his hand. "No no no, sorry. Just caught me off guard there." The older troll smiled again, although this time it was a little more strained. "Ehem, remind me, you don't think you need therapy?"
"No. Why would I?" John Dory replied, confused.
"Right, right," Dr. Reed said, nodding. "Ok, well, how are you adjusting then? How is living in Pop Village?"
"Oh, it's been great!" John Dory said, relaxing slightly. "Branch is really doing well, you know? He seems so much happier, well, as happy as a scowly little troll like him can be. And he and Queen Poppy are just the cutest couple. It's nice to see him thriving in this life he created for himself." John Dory smiled fondly. "I'm so proud of him."
"Huh," Dr. Reed replied, tilting his head slightly. "That's… really great, John Dory. But how are you doing?"
"Me?" John Dory's voice faltered for a moment. "Well I'm… I'm good. Doing fine." He didn't really like thinking about himself too much; it was just too confusing. So he tried to turn his thoughts back towards happier things, shaking his head slightly to clear his muddied thoughts. "But that's to be expected, right? I just got all my brothers back and we're hanging out all the time so, it's great! I mean, why wouldn't I be fine?"
Dr. Reed nodded, scribbling something in his notepad. John Dory stiffened, once again forcing a smile to his face as suspicion churned in his stomach. "Did I say something interesting? What 'cha writing?" He leaned forward slightly, trying to read the upside down squiggles.
"Oh, uh…" the older troll replied, looking down to read his writing out loud. "Subject resorts to deflection as a coping method."
"What?" John Dory exclaimed defensively, feeling his hair almost bristle. "No I don't!"
Dr. Reed raised a skeptical eyebrow before leaning back down, once again writing in his notebook. "In denial…"
"Woah woah woah, Doc, c'mon." John Dory laughed, the sound dry to even his own ears. "I'm just happy for my brothers. That's not a crime."
"No, it's not," Dr. Reed said, looking back up at John Dory. "It just seems to me that you're much more focused on their happiness and their lives than you are on your own."
"Well, yeah!" John Dory replied, becoming even more confused. "I'm trying to be a good brother."
"That's good," the older troll reassured him, and John Dory felt himself relax slightly back into his seat. "But that doesn't mean you can just ignore yourself. So, I'll ask you again, how are you adjusting to living in Pop Village?"
"Uh…" John Dory droned, fiddling with his glove. All of a sudden, it felt like his brain had just… shut off.
"Do you have any places you like to go?" Dr. Reed pressed. "Things you do for fun? Have you gone to any parties? Made any friends?"
"Branch is my friend," John Dory jumped in quickly. "And Queen Poppy. I think. We do things together all the time."
"And when Branch is busy?"
"Um, well…" John Dory thought back to the last time he had to spend the day by himself. Branch had gone with Queen Poppy to visit their Bergen friends, so he had… His eyebrows knit together with concentration as he thought.
He hadn't really done… anything. He just hung out around Rhonda, unsure of what to do. Actually, when was the last time he had just gone into Pop Village? Gone out to explore? If he didn't have Branch dragging him along… Huh. So the only time he ever got out to do things was when his self-proclaimed introvert of a little brother made him. That probably wasn't a good sign.
"Look, John Dory, I'm going to be straight with you," Dr. Reed said, folding his hands on his lap. "It sounds like you're really trying to be happy, and that's great." His smile wavered slightly, but continued nonetheless. "But, it almost feels like you're trying too hard. You can't force yourself to be happy."
"But I am happy!" John Dory insisted, trying to shove his now conflicting thoughts aside. "This is like, the best my life has ever been. My brothers and I are on speaking terms, I'm not alone anymore, and hey, I'm not constantly fearing for my life in some forsaken mountainous wasteland, so I should be happy." John Dory shook his head, quickly correcting himself. "I mean, I am happy. I am." As prickles of anxiety seemed to crawl their way up his neck, John Dory decided he really did not like therapy. It hurt his brain too much.
"Things from the past don't just disappear," Dr. Reed continued. "They linger. They scar." John Dory unknowingly clutched his gloved hand, his face curling into a grimace. "And trying to ignore them doesn't make them go away."
John Dory was quiet now. He was fine, wasn't he? Sure, his life had been hard, but it hadn't been that hard. I mean, look at Branch. He went through so much worse, and now here he was, thriving. All of his brothers were thriving. And John Dory was fine. He had no right to not be fine. This "therapist" had no idea what he was talking about.
"So what would you have me do, Doc?" John Dory said sarcastically as he leaned back in his chair.
The older troll thought for a moment. "Well, considering you seem to be self-isolating and deluding yourself into ignoring your fears of rejoining your brothers and society…" John Dory let out a disbelieving scoff. "...I recommend coming up with some sort of routine and sticking to it."
John Dory blinked, sitting up straighter. "A routine?" he asked, confused.
"Yes," Dr. Reed said with a nod, adjusting his glasses that just couldn't seem to sit comfortably on his face. "Like a schedule, a list of things you can do to get yourself out, to get yourself moving. To get yourself living again. You're right; your life is good right now. But if you don't acknowledge your fears and allow yourself to move forward, you're going to miss out on enjoying it. Do you want to be happy? Or do you just want to keep pretending that you are?"
John Dory was at a loss for words, gaping like a fish out of water.
Dr. Reed stood up, smiling again. "Think on that. I'll look forward to hearing your answer at our next session."
And just like that, John Dory was back out on that doorstep, feeling as if he'd just been doused with ice cold water. "What just happened…?" he mumbled to himself, scratching at his hair as he shot an apprehensive look back at the door.
"Oo, let me guess." John Dory turned to see Branch leaned up against, funnily enough, a branch. "He just hit you with a dose of reality that knocked your world upside down."
John Dory felt his face grow hot, his ears burning. "Pft, no," he grumbled, purposely avoiding eye contact with his youngest brother.
"That's what I like about him," Branch said with a smirk, walking over to John Dory. "He's blunt. He's honest. And he really makes you think." Branch's face became a bit more serious. "Do you think it helped?"
John Dory pursed his lips, his mind racing. Did it help? No. Now, he was just confused. What did that quack of a doctor mean, "routine?" JD could feel himself beginning to scowl so instead, he took a deep breath, shrugging.
"Eh, who knows," he said smoothly. "But, now we can say I tried so, gold star for 'ol John Dory."
Branch rolled his eyes, something he often did in John Dory's presence. "Really? You really tried?" Branch said skeptically, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Yes, really!" John Dory insisted, matching Branch's stance.
Branch seemed to scan his face, another thing he often did around John Dory. It was almost scary how well his youngest brother was able to read him sometimes. Finally, Branch let out a sigh, his arms dropping to his side. "Well, thank you. For trying."
John Dory felt his shoulders fall a bit. His brother really was just trying to help him. After everything that happened with Branch's bunker and that stupid cave, he could tell his brother had this guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders, guilt that wouldn't be there if John Dory wasn't such a coward. Branch was just worried about him, and JD couldn't stand to see such a dismal look on his brother's face. He quickly walked to Branch's side, pulling him into a rough side hug.
"Hey, I think you were right. This was a good thing," he assured him, holding in a snicker as Branch leaned away from his smothering touch, causing JD to just pull him in tighter. Finally, he let his brother go, the younger troll adjusting his vest in irritation. "In terms of therapy? I think it's safe to say that I'm killing it."
"Yeah, that's not a healthy way to think about therapy," Branch replied in a monotone voice, but JD could pick up on the slightest smile on his lips as he looked back up at him. John Dory nodded in satisfaction, glad to see he could turn his youngest brother's mood back around.
"C'mon, Bitty B," John Dory drawled, putting his troubled thoughts behind him as he guided Branch away from the 'therapy' pod. "All this self-reflecting has really worked up my appetite…"
John Dory was sitting in Rhonda, the creature rumbling softly as she snored. Now that he was alone, it was harder to keep his churning thoughts at bay. His mind kept circling back around to one thing: Routine.
As much as he hated to admit it, that "therapist" had a point. His life is good right now. And what was he doing? Hiding away in Rhonda, just like he's always done. Maybe it was because he was so used to it that he just seemed to fall back on it as a default? Or maybe he was anxious about going out amongst the Pop Trolls he felt hardly any connection to anymore? Or maybe he was scared that if he stepped one foot out of line, this whole perfect life that he was lucky enough to have would come crashing down on him. Again.
John Dory shook his head, trying to clear his brain. No, he wasn't supposed to be thinking like that. He was supposed to be doing better.
So why aren't I?
John Dory grimaced slightly, pulling his goggles off of his head. He stared at them for a moment. "Find a routine, huh?" he said quietly, setting the goggles off to his side. Then, he reached into an inner coat pocket, pulling out an old, heavily worn sheet of paper. He unfolded it slowly, careful not to rip the delicate parchment. He looked at the title scrawled across it in large, black letters, reading:
A Troll's Quick and Concise Guide on How To Survive
John Dory gently rubbed his thumb near the beginning of the title, where the first two words had been scribbled out with a pen. Written next to it, in his father's handwriting, was his name. John Dory. So it actually read:
John Dory's Quick and Concise Guide on How To Survive
The book had been a gift, way back in the day. His father had always been obsessed with roughing it. With surviving. He had given this book to John Dory on his birthday, saying it would teach him all he needed to know. So that when they left the Troll Tree one day, John Dory would be ready. They would survive. Together.
Yeah, that didn't exactly work out, but at least the book was helpful.
John Dory had followed it consistently when he'd first set out on the Neverglade Trail. Despite his struggles with reading that never really seemed to go away, he managed to read through the book several times, to the point when he had practically memorized every word by heart. So eventually, he used it up as kindling. But he had kept this page. The page with his father's handwriting on it.
John Dory flipped it over, looking at the table of contents on the back. It really was a "quick and concise guide," containing only the most basic of survival skills. To be fair, it was a troll book. Trolls weren't really built to be survivalists. But nonetheless, John Dory read through it, probably for the thousandth time. The five step system he followed every time he reached a new place:
1. Find Shelter
2. Build a Fire
3. Collect Food and Clean Water
4. Apply First Aid
5. Signal for Help
John Dory never really had to use the fifth step, but regardless, this is what he did. It was his routine. It hadn't failed him yet, so maybe, it wouldn't fail him now. Sure, he wasn't living out on the Neverglade Trail, fending for his life against the elements and critters ten times his size who would love to have him as a snack, but he was in a new place. He was trying to adjust. So maybe, just maybe…
John Dory set his jaw, folding the paper up and setting it carefully back into his pocket. That's what he would do then. Dr. Reed wanted him to follow a routine? Then he would. John Dory would do what he did best.
He would survive.