Things were looking up. Branch had suggested they go on vacation on a whim, and it had worked out better than he had thought. Bud was more relaxed. He was getting his color back, and it seemed to be staying. A small part of Branch was jealous, because more often then not he was still very Gray. Bud had been through so much worse than he had. He had every reason to be Gray, and yet he got his colors back and held onto them.
Bud must be a naturally more hopeful troll than Branch was. He was happy for him, but it still stung a bit.
Branch had reunited with one of his brothers, and it had gone better than he ever thought it would. When they left Vacay Island he had let Bruce give him a tight hug and they promised to keep in touch.
When they returned to the pop village Bud seemed more comfortable than before. He still preferred to stay at the bunker, but he didn't shy away from going into town. He would take walks around the village and run errands with Poppy and Branch. He didn't talk to the other trolls, but he didn't cower from them either.
Everything was going so well, and yet Branch couldn't get rid of the sinking feeling in his gut. Something was horribly wrong, and the curious inquisitive part of him wanted to get to the bottom of it. The cowardly part of him, the part that made him lock himself in the bunker for years because he was afraid of getting hurt, didn't want to think about it. It wanted him to turn his head from the obvious and protect himself from pain.
He found himself somewhere in the middle. He couldn't help but notice the clues and the signs. They were so clear, practically screaming at him to take notice. He'd been blind to them before. He would hear that Bud had left his home and family and think nothing of it. He would be told that Bud had multiple brothers who had also left home, and Branch wouldn't even consider seeing it as anything more than a coincidence. He would look at the objects that Bud had that reminded him of his brothers, and he would easily brush aside the part of him that whispered that they reminded him of his brothers too.
Branch would have probably gone on like this indefinitely if Bud hadn't gotten his colors back. He saw the vibrant pink hair and the skin that was incredibly similar in shade and hue to Branch's, and suddenly he couldn't help but see the signs.
Bud's soft-spoken way with words. The way he was always concerned about someone else, even when he should be worried about himself. The way that Bud laughed. It was all very familiar. It made Branch feel like a little kid again, looking to his big brother for reassurance. Basking in the comfort that was always given freely.
But then he remembered the strained smile and turned back as he was left behind. He would remember the unbearable loneliness of not having that comfort there when he needed it most. And Branch's mind shut it all down. It brushed aside the clues. He told himself he was just being paranoid and projecting. He would go on with his life, and then Bud would smile at him and Branch couldn't help but remember all over again.
He tried to ignore it. He told himself that he was just looking for reasons to be unhappy because he wasn't used to things going right. It wasn't uncommon for him. If things seemed too perfect he would usually look for a fault or flaw, however small, because if he knew that things weren't actually perfect then it wouldn't hurt as much when it inevitably came crashing down around him.
The similarities were there, and they were hard to ignore, but it could all just be a coincidence. Lots of trolls were soft-spoken. A lot of trolls probably had imperfect childhoods that they just didn't want to talk about because it went against the happy image that the pop trolls had going for them.
And it had been twenty years since he had seen his brother. Branch had even avoided looking at pictures. Maybe his memory was off. Maybe the shade of Bud's pink hair wasn't quite right. Maybe his smile was just really nice, and Branch's memory was rearranging things so that his brother had looked that way.
There were so many other reasons and explanations. Why should Branch drive himself crazy just thinking about one unlikely possibility?
But it was still hard to forget.
He didn't try to, but Branch started avoiding Bud just a little bit. He felt incredibly guilty about it, but it was better this way. It was better that Bud be given a slightly cold shoulder, barely enough to be noticeable, than for Branch to let his wild theories get the better of him and for him to take those feelings out on Bud.
Regardless of if these paranoid theories were true or not, Bud didn't deserve to have Branch's conflicted feelings about his brothers thrown at him.
Branch tried to be subtle about avoiding Bud. He still spent time with him, and he would hug him if he needed it, but Branch wouldn't instigate things. He would spend time with both Poppy and Bud, but if Bud wanted to do something just with him, one-on-one, Branch would find a reason to avoid it, or to leave in the middle. He didn't think Poppy knew what was going on, because surely she would have confronted him about it.
Bud knew though. He had to. He seemed to know everything. And what hurt was that he seemed to understand. He would look disappointed whenever Branch said 'maybe later', but then he would smile sincerely, nod, and go find something else to do.
Bud deserved so much better than him.
Branch had been having a hard time sleeping lately. He'd been having bad dreams, or even nice dreams about his childhood that left him feeling slightly ill when he woke up. Branch had started avoiding sleeping. After his first nightmare or dream of the night he would go to his kitchen and just make himself a warm drink. It was both peaceful and lonely during the darkest hours of the night.
He was normally alone until dawn, but one night, when he was in the middle of his drink, Bud came shuffling into the kitchen. He was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, though there were also tear tracks on his cheeks.
Branch was really tired himself, and for half a second when he saw Bud standing there, half asleep and crying, he saw his brother, awake and seeking comfort after a bad dream.
He pushed that image to the back of his mind. He went to get a cold drink for Bud. "Nightmare?" Bud hummed in acknowledgement and sat down. He groaned and rested his head on the table. "Was it about the rock trolls?"
Bud shook his head. "Not really." He muttered. "Dreamt about the last time I saw my brother. The dreams have gotten so much worse than I'm pretty sure it was."
Branch knew he should leave it at that, but he couldn't help but say what came to his mind. "Which brother?" He regretted the words as soon as he said them. He didn't want to know. Bud's brothers were his business. Branch had been trying so hard to not see the similarities, and now he was literally asking for them.
Bud was oblivious to Branch's small crisis. "My oldest brother." Bud said. He never said names, either his or theirs. Did he remember them? Or was there another reason for his silence? Branch tried really hard not to think about it.
"What happened?" Branch asked. His voice was calm even as he was internally screaming at himself. Why was he asking these questions? He didn't want to know.
Bud shook his head and rubbed his chest. He didn't have to say anything else. By now Branch knew that when Bud clung to or rubbed his chest he was trying to feel his heartbeat. He was remembering the way that it had been thrown off, when he had connected without wanting to.
Branch thought that it had just happened with the rock string, but Bud's nightmare hadn't been about that. It had been about his brother. Why was he rubbing his chest if it had nothing to do with a forced connection?
Unless it did.
He couldn't help but remember the last time he had seen his brothers, when everything went wrong. Branch remembered almost achieving the Perfect Family Harmony. He remembered their souls being in sync. He remembered how right it felt, like it was how they were always meant to be.
He remembered sitting with Bud after the drum circle, connecting with his soul far too easily. He remembered how familiar it had felt. Even Bud cutting it off because it had been too much for him to handle had been familiar.
Branch took that train of thought and those memories and shoved them away. He didn't want to think about it.
"Branch?" Bud's voice was quiet and understanding. It was very comforting, but Branch stiffened at the sound. Why did he have to sound like that? "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." Branch said stiffly. He didn't have to look at Bud to know that he didn't believe him.
"If you want to talk about it-" Bud started. It was exactly the kind of thing that his brother used to say, and Branch couldn't help but panic.
"I said I'm fine!" Branch said too loudly and sternly. It was just shy of shouting. He grimaced and stiffened. He waited for Bud to get defensive or passive aggressively say that he was just asking. He waited for Bud to start crying. They would be very understandable reactions. What Branch wasn't ready for was what Bud did.
"Okay." Bud said calmly. He sounded far too understanding. Why did he have to sound like that? Did he have any idea what he was doing to Branch? The calmer and more understanding he was the less that Branch could ignore the clues and signs, and the more he panicked. When Branch panicked he pushed people away, because that was what he was good at.
"Do you want me to give you space?" Bud asked gently. "I can leave, if you want." Branch couldn't take it anymore.
"You know what?" Branch clenched his hands into fists to try to stop them from shaking. It didn't work. "Go ahead. Leave. That's what you're so good at anyway."
He hated himself as soon as the words left his mouth. It didn't matter if his fears were right or not. Bud could be a total stranger, or he could be…it didn't matter. He didn't deserve it. If he was just Bud then Branch was just being a jerk for no reason. It was worse if he really was his brother.
They had left twenty years ago. Branch had gotten over it. He was trying to forgive them. Yes, they hadn't come back, but Bud wouldn't have been able to. Twelve years. He'd been locked up for more than half that time. He'd nearly died. And what had Branch done? He'd hidden away in his bunker and held onto his resentment. He convinced himself he didn't care, and he never thought about looking for them.
Branch was smart. He could have tracked down his brothers if he had tried. If one of them had landed in trouble he could have found them. He could have saved his brother. He wouldn't have had to have gone through all this pain, if Branch had just gotten over himself.
If Bud was his brother he had suffered because Branch had been busy protecting his own hurt feelings. He couldn't cope with the thought of that. It was far too much. So Branch pushed it away, just like everything else. He just focused on Bud. Not his brother, just Bud.
"I'm sorry." Branch said, and he meant it. He couldn't begin to say how sorry he was. "I didn't mean-"
"I know." Bud was crying again, but his smile was sincere and understanding. He looked so much like him, and it wasn't fair. Why did he have to look like him? Why did he have to act like him? "It's okay."
Things were quiet for a minute before Bud cautiously spoke up. He sounded nervous, and Branch hated that he was responsible for this fear. "Hey, Branch?"
"Yeah?" Branch asked. He didn't want to talk anymore, because he knew he was going to mess it up all over again. But pushing Bud away now, when he was asking for something directly, would be the biggest mistake he could make.
"Did I…can you tell me what I did wrong?" Bud said. He sounded so young and vulnerable. "I can do better, but I don't know what you want from me."
Branch felt like he couldn't breathe. He didn't often find the bunker suffocating, but he did now. Bud wasn't even asking if he'd done something wrong in the first place. He just assumed he'd made a mistake, and he wanted to make it right.
"You didn't do anything wrong." Branch said. A very small voice in the back of his head wanted to say that he had left, but he kept that quiet. He couldn't. "I've just been having a bad past few days."
Bud didn't look convinced. "But would you tell me? If I did something wrong?"
"Would you?" Branch asked in return. As he expected, Bud didn't say anything. They both knew he wouldn't. Neither of them would.
They didn't talk after that. They just sat there, both of them waiting for the other to open up and say something, but neither of them did. Branch finished up his drink and got up from the table. He was just going to put his mug away. He hadn't decided yet if he was going to go back to bed or not.
"You should go back to sleep." Bud said. "It's late."
"I'll try." Branch said. "As long as you do the same thing."
Bud chuckled. "Fair enough." He drank the last of his own drink and got up. "Goodnight, Branch."
"Goodnight." Branch said in return. Bud left the kitchen. Branch lingered for a few minutes, just looking at the place where the other had been sitting. Bud didn't come back, and Branch was confident that he was alone.
"Sweet dreams," Branch said quietly, nearly inaudibly, as though he was scared that if he was heard then he would make the impossible nightmare a reality. "Floyd."
