John Dory sat on the sandy beach, just staring out at the sunset. Floyd's diamond was next to him, a safe distance from the water. He was still crying, but it had calmed down a little bit over the past several minutes. It was mostly just the occasional sniffle and whimper.
John Dory desperately wanted to talk to him. He wanted to know why his brother ran away. He wanted to know how badly his brother had hurt himself, and why. Clay had mentioned something about his legs. John Dory had thought that Floyd's shaky legs had been just a little thing. Something he would get over. Was it worse than that?
There were so many things to talk about, but at the same time it was impossible to know just what to say. Should John Dory strike up conversation first, or wait for Floyd to make the first move? It was alarming that he didn't know what the right answer was. If he was with any of his other brothers he would know the best approach.
Clay liked to be given space and patience. Even as a kid he had liked to have the time to gather his thoughts so he could avoid reacting out of anger and frustration. Branch on the other hand needed somebody else to make the first move. He only let his walls down if he knew there was someone there who genuinely wanted to connect with him.
Bruce could go either way, depending on his mood . If Bruce was mad, he wanted space. If he was upset, he wanted someone to step up and make things better.
John Dory wasn't aways too good at giving his brothers what they needed. He tried, but he wasn't very good at it. He always said the wrong thing at the wrong time. But at least he tried, and as a kid he'd thought that that would be good enough. After all, their parents never tried. They never made any effort for any of them.
Effort was all that John Dory wanted. Even if his parents did something wrong, at least it would have been something. He would have accepted it, because at least they tried.
It had taken him a long time to realize that just because effort from his parents would have been good enough for him didn't mean that his little brothers had to be as generous with him. He supposed it was only fair. After all, as far as they were concerned, he'd expected a lot more than effort from them. He'd expected results. He'd expected perfection.
He was such a hypocrite. How could he dare to ask so much of his brothers when he couldn't give them the same? He didn't even know how to approach Floyd to comfort him. How had he not learned this when they were kids? Floyd had needed a lot of comfort back then, and John Dory had provided it, but looking back he hadn't really helped his brother with the underlying issues. They hadn't talked about what Floyd was crying about.
John Dory had just been there to wipe away his tears and give him a hug, and he thought that had been enough. How could he have been so blind? Floyd was starting to stop crying now, but the pain and fear were still there. The torture had still happened. John Dory hadn't fixed anything, and he didn't know where to start.
But he was terrible at keeping quiet, so John Dory ended up talking anyway, saying the first thing that came to his mind.
"I almost forgot," John Dory said, his voice sounding far more casual than he felt. He didn't even have to force it. When it came to trying to make his brothers feel better nothing came more naturally to him, no matter how terrible he might be feeling. "You used to be a really shy kid."
Floyd made a whimper that was clearly a weak attempt at a scoff. John Dory gave him a sheepish smile. "Yeah, I know, you never really stopped being kinda shy. But I mean really shy. Like, I was scared that something was wrong. Do you remember?"
Floyd didn't say anything. John Dory didn't expect him to. He continued talking, explaining it.
"Okay, so a lot of trolls are basically hatched singing. Even before they know what they're saying they're singing at the top of their lungs. But you weren't like that. You didn't sing. You didn't hum. You didn't even go 'do do do' like all the other kids did. You were just quiet."
Floyd was still curled up on himself, but he turned slightly to face John Dory more directly. He kept his hand on the diamond to show what little support he could for his brother.
"We thought it was weird when you didn't sing that first day, even when me, Spruce, and Clay all sang to you, but Grandma told us you were just a late bloomer, so we waited. You didn't sing the next day either. Or the day after that. After a week even Grandma couldn't hide her concern, so we took you to the doctor."
Floyd was watching him now, listening. He didn't look like he remembered any of this. John Dory wasn't surprised. He'd been so young. Honestly, Clay probably didn't remember.
"They did all kinds of tests. They played all your favorite songs. They tried those games where they sing one thing, and you're supposed to sing the answering phrase, but you still wouldn't sing. This went on for a few weeks before the doctors told us that they couldn't find anything wrong. You were still a happy child. You still talked to us. You still showed your emotions just fine." The thought of Floyd ever not showing his emotions was laughable. "You just didn't sing."
John Dory smiled fondly at the memory, but he remembered how terrified he had been all those years ago. He had felt like he was failing as a big brother, because the only theory that the doctors had was that Floyd just didn't feel safe singing, somehow. What kind of a home was he making for his brother if he made him feel so unsafe that he couldn't bring himself to do something as vital as singing?
It had taken a long time before the doctors said that the best thing they could do was wait and let Floyd figure things out in his own time.
"You were left home alone one time when you were three." John Dory said. "That was when Grandma's memory first started to get kinda bad, and we were still getting used to it. She was supposed to be watching you, and I guess she forgot. Bruce was the first one to realize that you were alone, and he hurried home. And you know what he heard?"
Floyd blinked. "Singing?"
"Singing." John Dory said. "You were singing. It was the first time any of us had heard a note come out of you. Of course, you stopped the second that you realized that Bruce was there."
Floyd blinked and sat up. "I had stage fright?"
John Dory chuckled. "Why are you surprised? You always got nervous before a performance, no matter how big or small."
"But those are performances." Floyd frowned. "That's different. Why couldn't I even sing in front of my brothers?"
John Dory had wondered that at first too. It hadn't taken him long to figure it out. He wondered if Floyd could put it together, because it seemed like history was repeating itself.
"I'll give you a clue." John Dory said. "You were a very emotional child. You were always crying, or laughing, and you never figured out how to hide how you were feeling."
Floyd flinched and his hands trembled. He wrapped his hair around himself and hid away. "I was scared that I wouldn't sound good." It was clear from the tone of his voice that Floyd recognized that he was feeling the same way. John Dory had thought that he'd gotten over his stage fright. He shouldn't have assumed that just because he seemed fine didn't mean he'd gotten over it forever.
"I guess even as a kid you realized that voices can do some funky things when you're emotional, and you were never not emotional." John Dory said. "You've always been so aware of music, even when you weren't singing. I guess you could hear that pop trolls didn't often show intense emotions in their songs, and it made you feel self-conscious. You didn't want to sing, because you knew it wouldn't be perfect."
He heard Floyd let out a sniffle. He was crying again. John Dory felt bad for upsetting his little brother again, but he thought this story was important.
"Once I knew the problem I was able to figure out how to help you." John Dory said. "You were scared of not being perfect. I thought it would help if I showed you that you didn't have to be perfect. So when I got upset and stressed I would go find you, give you a tight hug, and I would sing. And it was rough. My voice would crack. I was out of tune. I couldn't stop hiccupping. It was a mess. I hated how I sounded. But as stupid as I felt, singing made me feel better. And it was a good example for you. One day, out of nowhere, you just came up to me one day when you were crying. You hugged my leg, buried your face in my chest, and then you just started singing."
John Dory looked at Floyd, who was barely peeking out of his hair, staring at him. "It wasn't perfect." John Dory said bluntly. "You fumbled the words, and your notes were everywhere, but you know what? It was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard, even to this day."
Floyd made a sound of embarrassment and hid behind his hair again. John Dory chuckled. That was something he'd forgotten he loved about being the big brother. Embarrassing his brothers was great.
"I don't know where I went wrong." John Dory said quietly. "I had been so excited to hear you sing at all, and five years later I thought that if any of you couldn't hit a note right then you just shouldn't sing." He didn't remember when he'd first started thinking that, but he'd said it to his brothers multiple times. He'd told them that if it was a concert and their voices were faltering then they should just mouth the words and let the others carry them for a bit. The audience wouldn't have noticed if it happened occasionally. John Dory had sincerely thought it would have been for the best. Now the thought of encouraging his brothers to not sing made him feel sick.
"I can't remember the last time I said this, and that's on me, but you don't need to be perfect." John Dory said. He would just be happy to hear his brother singing. If Floyd never wanted to sing again, fine. John Dory would be mildly disappointed, because he was always happy to hear his brothers singing, but he liked it because they liked it. If it didn't make Floyd happy then it wouldn't be worth it.
But he didn't want Floyd to avoid singing because he was worried about how he sounded. That just wasn't right.
"But…the Perfect Family Harmony." Floyd's voice cracked. "It matters so much to you."
John Dory felt like his heart broke. He wanted to hug his brother so badly. "It matters to me because it can get you out of the diamond." It wasn't about being perfect. It wasn't about achieving the impossible. It was about saving his little bro. "I thought it was the best way, but if it's not going to work out then we'll find another way to break the diamond. I mean, there's gotta be other things out there. Clay's smart, he'll probably be able to find something."
He had been trying to help Floyd feel better, but his brother stayed in his hair and he was trembling.
"I'm sorry." Floyd said. John Dory was starting to hate his apologies. Floyd sounded like he was barely keeping it together. That he was going to start bawling again. "I didn't…I didn't try to get Clay mad at you. I didn't think he would…I didn't…I'm sorry."
"Hey, hey, it's okay." John Dory said before Floyd could get himself too worked up. "It's not your fault." It hurt that Clay had assumed the worst of John Dory, but he couldn't blame either of his brothers for it. Floyd had been through so much, and he shouldn't have to explain what happened if he didn't want to. That shouldn't be his job.
And why wouldn't Clay think the worst? They hadn't seen each other for twenty years. Clay didn't know how John Dory could have changed during that time. All he knew was that Floyd was trapped, hurt, and fleeing from his brothers. Of course John Dory was the one at fault, because as far as Clay was concerned it was always John Dory's fault.
Because when they were kids things really had always been his fault. Why would things be any different now?
"Me and Clay have always had issues." John Dory said. His chest hurt at the thought. "You weren't the one that made Clay hate me. I did that all by myself."
Floyd whimpered, but he wasn't the only one. John Dory's ears twitched when he heard another quiet whimper. His big brother senses were tingling. He looked over his shoulder and saw a flash of wild green hair before it vanished behind a corner. Clay was there. John Dory wasn't ready to talk to him, but he didn't want to push him away. But Clay had come here for a reason. He was ready to talk, and John Dory had learned that when Clay wanted a conversation to happen then he would get very upset if it didn't.
"If you want to fight or yell, can we do it away from Floyd?" John Dory said loud enough for Clay to hear. Floyd stiffened and tightened his hair around himself. John Dory made a soothing sound, but kept his gaze behind him. A tense minute later Clay stepped out from around the corner. He looked tenser than Floyd was.
Clay was walking with both caution and determination. His expression was hard to read. There were a dozen or so different things that John Dory expected Clay to do, ranging from shouting to disowning him to announcing that he knew how to get Floyd out of the diamond. What John Dory honestly never would have expected in a million years was for Clay to storm up to John Dory and throw his arms around him, hugging him tightly.
He couldn't remember the last time Clay had willingly hugged him.
"I don't hate you, Johnny." Clay's voice shook. He wasn't like Floyd. Clay could get mad, but he didn't really get distressed like this. If he ever cried, he didn't show it in front of John Dory.
"Clay." John Dory didn't know what to say. Clay didn't let him start. He made a slight growl and tightened his hold on John Dory.
"I don't." Clay said sternly. "I don't, I don't. I never…I couldn't…" He broke off with a whimper and nuzzled against John Dory. "How could I hate you?"
John Dory could think of thousands of reasons. He could write up a list if he was given time. Clay might like that. He liked lists and organization. Clay probably didn't think he knew, but he did.
He was tempted to playfully list everything there was about him to hate, but Floyd was crying again in the diamond and Clay was crying now too. John Dory could, and probably would, hate himself later. Right now his brothers needed comfort.
So John Dory bit his tongue, despite the intense need he felt to talk. Being quiet almost physically hurt, but so did seeing his brothers upset like this. John Dory was stronger than he was as a kid. He could keep himself quiet for a little bit. He could comfort his brothers and be a shoulder for them to cry on. After everything he'd done wrong as an older brother, he could at least do this.