Everything was changing, and Floyd didn't like it. Change was dangerous. It was painful. It made him feel far too vulnerable, and clearly it made it far too easy to hurt those around him. Why couldn't things just settle down and stay the way they should be?

He felt guilty about this. Branch and Poppy had left the security of their home to bring him here. Bruce was welcoming him into his family without a second thought. They were accommodating him, and they shouldn't. This wasn't what he wanted. He just wanted…he wanted…he didn't even know.

How pathetic. He couldn't even navigate his own desires. He had some of his brothers back, which was more than he thought he would ever get. Why was he complaining about it? Why was he moping and thinking that he wanted more when he didn't even know what that 'more' was? Why couldn't he, just for once, be satisfied with things the way they were?

Maybe he could learn to be satisfied if things would stop changing. Except, no, maybe not, because he had been with the rock trolls for twelve years and very little had changed from day to day. He hadn't been content with that, but he wasn't content now.

What was wrong with him? Why was he so broken? He couldn't blame the rock trolls because they hadn't really done much to him, despite what Branch seemed to think. Sure, there was that whole thing with the rock string, and that hadn't been fun, but it was far from the torture that Branch seemed to think it was. Floyd was just being a baby about it because…

"Just hold still and learn to appreciate some good music. When you hear this riff you'll understand how perfect a sound can be."

~Perfect, perfect, perfect~

…Because his brain was apparently scrambled and couldn't keep his memories in the right order.

Floyd didn't like being left alone with his thoughts. It hurt, and it seemed to worry the others so much. Poppy always looked so heartbroken when she saw him like this, and Branch got worried. Branch had enough on his mind right now, and he shouldn't have to deal with Floyd. That was probably why Branch was avoiding him. He just didn't want to deal with him anymore and didn't know how to let him down easy.

He started to spend his time with Bruce. He didn't really want to be here on this island. It was too warm for him. The heat was different and more refreshing than the stifling heat of the volcano, but it still made his skin crawl if he spent too long out of the pool. He couldn't just turn into a techno troll and live in the water though. He needed to grow up and get over this.

So he forced himself to only go for a swim once a day in the afternoon when the day was hottest and Bruce's restaurant was at its busiest. That was when he needed a break from both the heat and the noise of the restaurant.

Besides that break he spent almost every waking moment with his big brother. He followed Bruce everywhere. He tried not to physically cling to him the way he did with Branch. He didn't want to scare Bruce off. He'd ruined things with both Branch and Clay. He was terrified of messing things up with Bruce too.

But Floyd knew that he wasn't great with boundaries. Even if he didn't clutch at Bruce's arm he still followed him everywhere, never giving him a moment of peace. He would back off if he thought that Bruce wanted him to, but his older brother was being very patient with him. He had nothing but soft smiles or quiet encouragement for Floyd, even after the fifth time that Bruce turned around, only to almost trip and fall because Floyd was standing right behind him and getting in his way.

"Don't worry about it." Bruce said, even though Floyd had made him spill a drink when he'd walked into him. "This kind of thing happens."

Not only did Bruce not mind being followed around, but he seemed to encourage it. Bruce would hand a tray of food to Floyd and tell him to follow him to the Vacaytioners that had ordered it. He would pull Floyd close when it was clear that he was getting a little anxious. Bruce acted like he had nothing better to do than make Floyd feel like he was wanted, even though he had his restaurant and all his kids to worry about.

It was exactly what Floyd wanted, but it still took him a long time to get used to it. After five days of following Bruce everywhere, barely ever being out of his sight, Floyd started to feel comfortable with it. This was fine. He was fine, and surely if Bruce was sick of him he would have said something by now. So Floyd finally let himself relax.

And then, of course, things just had to change. H

"Bruce, honey, Cove and Windy are sick." Brandy said when Bruce and Floyd came back from surfing, just in time for the dinner rush. "I'm swamped here. Can you make sure they're okay? See if they need anything. And check on all of the other kids. If anybody else is showing symptoms, send them to bed before they spread it to everybody."

"I got it." Bruce said. He made his way to the back rooms, only to stop when Floyd started to follow him just like always. Bruce looked conflicted and Floyd's stomach dropped.

"Uh, maybe I should handle this myself." Bruce said. "I really don't want you getting sick."

Floyd felt his face grow warm, and it made him want to claw it off. Not only was the head uncomfortable, but it made him feel like he was about to start crying, and there was literally no reason for that right now.

"I'll be fine." Floyd said stubbornly. He wouldn't get sick so easily.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at him. "How good are you at fighting off sicknesses? Because to be frank you were really bad at that when we were kids, and I doubt you've gotten any better."

Floyd's eyes itched as those annoying tears formed. He felt his stomach twist anxiously and he rubbed his arm self-consciously. "I didn't try to-" He trailed off with a sniffle and he squeezed his wrist in anger because of it. What was wrong with him? Was he really crying because Bruce was rightfully worried about him getting sick? Floyd had been weak as a child, too whiny and sensitive to even be able to fight off a common cold. Of course Bruce wouldn't think he would have grown out of that, and of course he wouldn't want Floyd to get sick. Who would want to take care of him when he was even more clingy and pathetic than usual?

"Whoa, hey, hey, don't cry, Kid." Bruce said. "I know you didn't try to. I didn't mean it like that, I just…Floyd!" He whimpered when Bruce grabbed his hands and forced him to release his tight grip. The hand he'd been clutching at felt a little bit numb, but numbness wasn't enough. That wouldn't make anybody cry. He needed more, because if he couldn't get rid of these stupid tears then he at least needed to have a good reason for them to be there.

"Don't hurt yourself." Bruce's voice was quiet and pleading, and it just made Floyd's chest hurt. What did Bruce want from him? He didn't want Floyd to hurt himself, but he didn't want him crying either. Floyd couldn't stop crying, but this was the next best solution. He couldn't do better than this. Didn't Bruce understand that?

Floyd growled and tried to twist out of Bruce's grip, but his brother was strong. Floyd couldn't even move to try to hit his head against something to quiet all the noise in his head. The only thing close enough for him to hit was Bruce, and Floyd couldn't do that. He couldn't hurt his brother just to hurt himself. He couldn't be that selfish, even though the temptation was there and Floyd didn't know how long he'd be able to hold back.

He twisted his hands and his fingers grew tense, stiffening into half-clenched claws that he felt like he wouldn't be able to unclench ever again. He stomped his feet and shouted in frustration, but Bruce still didn't let him go. He just pulled him closer and said comforting words to him.

Floyd should be calming down. He wanted to relax and find comfort from knowing that his brother was there for him, but he couldn't stop. It felt so easy, and so impossible. Why couldn't he do it?

"Stop it." He hissed to himself, giving a voice to the screaming going on in his head. His chest tightened and his breath got caught in his throat when he realized that his speaking had been barely audible, let alone understandable, even just to himself. He couldn't even talk. Why did he have to be like this?

"S-stop it." Floyd growled and tried to bring his hands to his ears or his hair. He needed to pull on them, but he couldn't. Bruce was still holding him. "Shut up. S-stop it." He stuttered again as he choked on a sob. "Stop c-c-crying!"

He would have been more than happy to keep yelling at himself, but he heard Bruce's voice, larger and clearer than it had been when he'd just tried to hush and calm Floyd.

"Brandy, my love, I think I need to deal with this." Bruce said. Floyd's heart seemed to squeeze in his chest. He didn't want to be dealt with. It made him feel like he was just a problem. A burden. Yes, it was probably true, but he still didn't like it. But that was just Floyd being sensitive again, and he just needed to get over it. He needed to focus on the bigger problem.

"N-no!" Floyd tried to pull away from his brother, only to be pulled closer. "I-I can't…can't…the kids." Bruce's kids were sick. He was supposed to be taking care of his family. The last thing Floyd wanted was for his brother to neglect his responsibilities just for his sake. Floyd was supposed to be better than this. The kids shouldn't have to suffer just because he couldn't figure out how to grow up.

"The kids'll be fine." Bruce said. "We can get the older kids to check in on them."

"Are you sure, Honey?" Brandy asked. "I know how you feel about asking the kids to do that kind of thing." Floyd didn't really know what she was talking about, but he understood enough. Bruce was suggesting that they do something that he didn't really want to do, just so he could babysit Floyd.

"I'm sure." Bruce said. He certainly sounded confident, but it didn't make Floyd's guilt ease. "It'll just be for a few minutes, and I'll make it up to them later. Right now I just think…" He sighed and leaned forward to rest his forehead against Floyd's. "I think my little bro needs me a little more." The younger troll froze, his eyes wide with fright. His body was tense and almost itchy with the need to move, but he forced himself to stand still. It would be far too easy to slam his head against Bruce's, hurting both of them. Floyd would probably deserve it, but Bruce didn't.

Floyd wished that Brandy would tell Bruce to prioritize their kids, because that was what he should be doing, but instead she sounded very understanding. "Take care of him. I've got things out here, and the kids have each other. Do what you need to do."

No! What Bruce needed to do was be a dad. Floyd was fine. He was just being too sensitive, as always. Bruce had to know that, so why was he giving Floyd's hands a reassuring squeeze as he started to gently lead him to somewhere probably more private? This wasn't necessary. But Floyd's words had escaped from him and he couldn't get anything out. All he could do was growl and sniffle as he shuffled along and followed Bruce.

He was brought to a back room, away from curious eyes. Bruce brought Floyd to a chair, and he collapsed into it and tried to curl in on himself. Bruce was still holding his hands, so it didn't quite work.

"It's okay." Bruce said quietly. "Take as much time as you need. I'll be here if you want to talk."

Floyd didn't really feel like talking, because he didn't know what to talk about. Except he wanted to tell Bruce to forget about him and go take care of his sick kids, or the restaurant, or literally anything else. But Floyd couldn't get any words out and trying just made him feel any worse. He needed to calm down. So he just sat there and waited.

It was a slow process, and Floyd was set back a few times when his body stiffened when he didn't want it to and he started growling and crying again, but eventually he began to relax slightly. He didn't feel good, far from it, but he felt in control of his own body again. He slowly started to sit up lifting his head to look at Bruce, who was smiling at him with pride in his eyes. What was he proud for? Floyd hadn't done anything to warrant that look? What had he accomplished? Not crying? Everybody else could manage that just fine. It wasn't exactly an achievement.

"There you are." Bruce said. "You back with me?"

Floyd hummed and gave a small nod. Bruce rubbed the back of his hand.

"You ready to talk about it?" Bruce asked.

"What's there to talk about?' Floyd muttered. "I was just crying about nothing. What else is new?" He had panicked because he couldn't find a way to have a good reason to cry, and that had just made him cry more. It was pathetic and hurt so much more than a bump in the head or scratches on his hands did.

"I don't think it was nothing." Bruce said quietly.

"It sure felt like nothing." Floyd rubbed his eyes, because of course he was still crying. "Why can't I just stop?"

"Floyd, take a deep breath for me." Bruce said. He waited until Floyd did what he was told. "There we go. Now, it's okay if you don't, but do you know if you were upset and overwhelmed because I was going to be leaving you, because you felt bad that I was going to stay with you, or because you were crying and you felt like you shouldn't be?"

Floyd had been upset and very overwhelmed by all of it, but he knew what Bruce was asking. Was one of them more responsible for the fact that he completely broke down? And the answer was a very simple yes.

"Crying." Floyd muttered.

"Okay. That's okay." Bruce said. "Why were you upset about crying?"

Floyd tried to clench his hands, but Bruce still had a firm grip on them. He forced himself to relax.

"I shouldn't cry for no good reason." Floyd said.

"Says who?" Bruce asked. Floyd looked at him like he was insane. Wasn't it obvious? Everybody. But Bruce was looking at him expectantly, waiting for an answer, and Floyd knew he wouldn't accept 'everybody'. So he tried to think of specific examples. It really wasn't hard to do.

"The rock trolls." Floyd said. Bruce's gaze darkened and Floyd flinched slightly, feeling like he had done something wrong.

"They locked you up for twelve years for the crime of appreciating their music, but not in the way they wanted you to." Bruce said stiffly. "Frankly, I couldn't care less what they think about you, so if it's just their opinion-"

"It's not." Floyd's face felt warm. The rock trolls had been bad, but they were far from the only ones annoyed with Floyd's crying. He needed Bruce to understand that. He considered pointing out that Bruce had just told Floyd to stop crying, but he knew his brother would just be heartbroken at the thought of upsetting Floyd, and he would apologize and say he didn't mean it, and then he wouldn't listen to what Floyd was saying.

He was willing to accept that Bruce hadn't meant it, but Bruce hadn't been the only one to tell him to not cry. Clay had done the same thing, and Floyd couldn't think of a single time when Clay had said something that he didn't mean. And Bruce respected his opinion, so maybe he'd take this seriously and be willing to acknowledge that this was a problem.

"C-Clay." Floyd said. "He told me to stop crying."

Bruce raised an eyebrow at him. "You mean when we were kids? Look, I'm not saying that was okay of him to say, but that was a long time ago. You shouldn't-"

"It wasn't." Floyd said quickly. "It was…um," Time was really had for him to keep track of. How long had he been free? Weeks? Months? Surely it hadn't been a year yet, but that was still a large time-frame. "Just after I was let go."

Bruce looked stunned. "You've talked to Clay? Why didn't Branch say anything about that?"

Floyd shifted uncomfortably. He doubted that Branch knew. "He wasn't there. H-he knew I talked to my brother, and that it wasn't great, but I don't think he's put together yet that if it was my brother then it was his brother too."

Bruce gave his hands a comforting squeeze. "What happened with Clay?"

Floyd swallowed thickly. "I-I wanted him to come back with us. I wanted to be a family again, but he said…he said he wouldn't leave his new family. No." Floyd's hands clenched again and he couldn't make them relax. "He said he would never leave his family. B-but he left us. And I thought…I thought that meant that he didn't really see us as his family."

"Floyd, that's not-" Bruce looked pained. Floyd should probably let him speak, but as much as he wasn't able to speak earlier, he couldn't stop now.

"I'm trying to not be upset." Floyd said. "If Clay doesn't want me in his life that's fine. I just want him to be happy." That wasn't the full truth, and Bruce probably knew it. "I mean, I want him to be happy with me, but that doesn't matter."

Floyd closed his eyes tightly. "And Branch…Branch deserves to be happy without me too."

"Now hang on a second." Bruce said. "Branch wouldn't be happier without you."

Floyd let out a self-deprecating laugh. "Yes, he would. He's been so miserable and mad since he found out who I was. A-and I know that Branch brought me here because he wants me to stay with you instead of him. And that's fine. I just," He sighed, feeling completely drained. "I don't know why he hasn't gone home yet."

"You don't…okay, that's it." Bruce said. He stood up and pulled Floyd to his feet. He lead him out of the room. "We're going to go talk to Branch."

"What?!" Floyd's legs felt weak. "No!"

"Yes." Bruce said sternly as he continued to pull Floyd along. "I know he's needed time to get his thoughts together, and I tried to give that to him, but clearly we can't wait on him." Floyd continued struggling, but Bruce wouldn't let him go. It didn't take them long to find Branch.

"Hey, guys." Branch looked between the two of them, his gaze lingering on Floyd. "What's going on?"

Bruce gave Floyd a gentle push towards Branch, finally releasing his hands. Floyd stumbled a bit, and then he just stood there unsure of what to do. Branch looked just as awkward. Bruce crossed his arms and gave them both an unimpressed look. Floyd didn't know what he wanted.

Branch seemed equally as confused. "What?"

Bruce groaned. "Would you just hug your brother and tell him that you love him?"

Floyd felt mortified about the request, but Branch didn't hesitate. He stepped towards Floyd and wrapped his arms around him. "Of course I love you. I just…no, that doesn't matter right now. You know that though, don't you? That I love you?" And what was Floyd supposed to say to that? Branch wasn't in the habit of actively lying. He just sometimes said things that turned out to not be true later. But Floyd did that too, obviously, so he couldn't blame his brother for that.

Branch pulled away and gave Floyd an alarmed look. "Floyd, you know I love you, right?"

"He thinks you and Clay would be happier without him." Bruce crossed his arms. Branch looked confused.

"I mean, I know I've been sending kinda mixed messages, and that's on me, but what does any of this have to do with Clay? We haven't-" He trailed off and his eyes widened. "Oh." He seemed to realize something, and then his eyes narrowed dangerously. "Oh." He growled.

"Oh?" Bruce crossed his arms.

"That was Clay with the Putt Putt Trolls, wasn't it." Branch said dangerously. Floyd nodded, and Branch just looked angrier. "Great. Okay. As though I didn't already think that guy was a jerk."

"He's not a jerk." Floyd pouted.

"He made you cry. Multiple times." Branch said.

"So have you." Floyd pointed out. He regretted his words before Branch had the chance to look even remotely hurt by them. "Sorry. I'm sorry."

"No, you're right, I have made you cry." Branch admitted. "And I've never denied being a jerk. But Clay, he…he…"

"I want to talk to him." Floyd said. "H-he didn't know who I was. I still think he's happier without me, but I think he deserves the chance to say what he wants for himself." He didn't think it had been fair to project his own dumb feelings onto Clay. He was calmer now. He thought he could handle a conversation. And when he broke down in tears at the end of it then Bruce and Branch would be there to help him pick up the pieces.

He hated relying on his brothers, but he knew he wasn't good enough to do this without them. Maybe when he cleared the air with Clay then he could feel a little closer to okay.

"Are you sure you're up for that?" Bruce sounded more cautious than Branch had. He didn't know the specifics of what had happened between Floyd and Clay, but he seemed very concerned about what little he knew.

"No." Floyd said shakily. "But I want to try."

Bruce gave him another proud look. Floyd felt like he was too easily impressed with every little thing he did. Having something that resembled a basic grip on his emotions was not impressive. But Bruce's support made him feel just the tiniest bit better

"You're so much stronger than I am." Bruce said, which Floyd just didn't understand. "If I thought for even a second that John Dory didn't want anything to do with me, I would never be able to bring myself to go anywhere near him."

"Th-that's different." Floyd said. He couldn't explain how, he just knew that it was.

"Whatever you say, bro." Bruce said.

Floyd took a deep breath. "Look, I'm calm now. I'm fine. Can you please go take care of your kids?"

"Can you promise me you won't try to hurt yourself if you start crying again?" Bruce asked. Floyd didn't want to make any such promise, but he would if it meant that Bruce would stop putting him above his children. He nodded. Bruce gave him a stern look. "I'm holding you to that."

"Don't worry." Branch said. "I'll watch him." As though Floyd needed a babysitter. Maybe there was some truth to that, but he still hated it.

"Okay." Bruce said. He gave Floyd a tight hug. "Take care of yourself. I shouldn't be too long." And then he left, leaving Floyd and Branch awkwardly standing next to each other, neither of them knowing what to say.

"You, uh, you wanna go swimming?" Branch asked.

"I've already gone swimming today." Floyd muttered. Branch smirked ever so slightly.

"Look, if Poppy can have five ice cream sundaes in a single afternoon, you can go swimming twice in one day. I won't tell anyone." Branch said.

"Yeah, and I bet you said you wouldn't tell anybody about Poppy eating all that ice cream either." Floyd said. Branch snorted, amused. Floyd gave him a shaky smile. Branch held out his hand and Floyd took it. "Okay. Swimming. Sounds good." He didn't feel great, but he felt better. At least he'd finally stopped crying.