-O-

Picturebook Romance

A Trolls fanfic

By Dreamsinger

Chapter 73

Walking Out

The bergens were coming. Trollstice was happening in less than a month, and according to my calculations I had just enough time to complete the work on my bunker before it was too late. Every morning the familiar sense of impending doom grew stronger, driving me to work harder, faster, longer. Resting for even a few minutes caused my anxiety levels to skyrocket, spurring me to grind on. I was in no state of mind to deal with unexpected amorous inclinations, even if they were coming from an old friend.

I knew I ought to talk to Laurel, to tell her to forget about anything happening between us, but I couldn't. I sucked at this sort of thing. Most likely anything I said to her would be wrong and end up upsetting her, and probably her parents, too. I just couldn't afford to take the risk. I needed their mentorship now more than ever. Even if I hadn't, I wanted to be able to see them. Their presence was an unexpected comfort I'd discovered I deeply needed to keep it together, especially now, with Leafe and Cherry Blossom gone. I'd missed Finetune's stories and Savvy's wise counsel. If I rejected their daughter, things would end up all weird between us.

Falling back on my old habits I tried to avoid Laurel for the first few days, but that didn't go so well. She knew all my favorite hiding places and would randomly pop up, asking me to look over a blueprint or work on a project together. She would act so normal that I'd agree to join her, and everything would be fine for a while. Until she sang a love song while we worked, or when Hug Time came around. Her hugs were definitely different now; longer, closer, and accompanied by soft noises and gentle sighs that embarrassed me to hear.

And yet, now that I knew how she really felt about me, I minded the hugs less and less. Despite myself, I couldn't help but feel something for her, too. After all, Laurel Whizbang had always been one of the rare trolls I thoroughly approved of. If anyone was going to fall for me, it was just as well that it was her. She was smart and sensible, and really knew her way around a mechanic's shop. Also, now that she had begun to make the effort to catch my attention, I couldn't help but notice that she was actually rather pretty, too…

Despite myself I began to adjust to the idea. So my best friend has a crush on me. Is that necessarily a bad thing? Maybe, if she really wants, it might be nice to let her be a bigger part of my life. If so, what's my responsibility?

Somehow, that made my brain start working again. I knew all about being responsible. I've never been in a romantic relationship before. What should I say to her? I mused. I think the proper next step is to ask her on a date, but how do I bring up the subject? How does everyone else know what to say or do? Ask their parents? Tough. I don't have any.

It's too bad I can't talk to Leafe about this, but I've barely talked to him or Cheery since they got married over a year ago. I heard they're expecting their first trolling. The last thing I want to do is drag them back into my problems now.

I sighed forlornly. Now I kind of regret skipping out on so many relationship classes at school. Who would have ever guessed I might need them someday? Maybe there's a guide or instruction manual everyone refers to? Was I skipping class when they gave it out? I groaned and dragged my hands down my face. What am I gonna do…

I wanted to say something to Laurel, but I kept putting it off. Even so, things were changing, whether I wanted them to or not. No one had ever had a crush on me before, but it was oddly intriguing. I began to wake from dreams where a lovely light-fuchsia troll with long lemon-yellow hair and inviting green eyes came to me, wanting to hug me, and then do, well...other things. Intimate things.

I resigned myself to having to wash my bed sheets more often than I was used to. It was kind of annoying, but in a way, I didn't mind. Laurel wasn't the first troll I'd ever noticed in that way before, and Leafe had taught me that the way my body was reacting was perfectly normal, especially for a teenage troll. It was a sign that I was healthy, which was reassuring to me.

Leafe said that a certain amount of messiness is a part of every couple's love life. It was a sacrifice that everyone else seemed more than willing to tolerate to have the love of their life by their side. I'd be willing to bear such a sacrifice too, to have someone like that in my life. Especially if it was Laurel.

Okay, fine. If I'm really doing this, what's my game plan? Obviously I can't do anything about it right now, but eventually I'm going to have to do something.

The work on my bunker was scheduled to be completed just before the Day of Doom. Once the dust had settled, assuming things went according to plan and everyone was safe, maybe I could ask her to go to the next Frolic Festival with me? According to Leafe, partnering at the Festival is a good way to get to know someone better without expectations of any permanent commitments. I think that's probably a good first step.

I tried to picture that, and stalled at an unexpected problem. I'd always prided myself on my competence, but now… Laurel is older than me. She's had partners before, so she's bound to be great at frolicking. I - I don't want her to think I'm lame. Maybe, like Leafe suggested, I should try to find someone who could show me "the basics" first.

That sounded logical, but I was wary. I'd heard that many trolls got strongly attached to their first frolic partner; caught up in the thrilling rush of feel-good hormones. Never wanting it to stop. If things didn't work out, it took a while before they felt ready to try again with someone new. What if that happened to me? I didn't want to accidentally develop feelings for the wrong troll, or waste time in a recovery period.

Too risky, I decided. For now anyway. I'll think of something eventually. I've got time. She doesn't know I know, after all, and the Festival's not for months yet.

"I'll talk to her as soon as my bunker is finished," I decided. "It's gonna be awesome. I'll show her around and tell her about my future plans for expansion. She'll get a real kick out of that, I'm sure. In fact, she'll probably be excited to help out. Finetune and Savvy will, too. Yeah."

The image of my enthusiastic friend working by my side with a smear of grease on her pretty face caused a strange yet enjoyable twinge in my chest. I'd never seriously contemplated letting someone in before, not like this, but Laurel was different. She'd appreciate my bunker. She'd appreciate me.

-O-

As the days passed, I found myself enjoying Laurel's company more and more. I looked for excuses to see her. I caught myself looking forward to the long hours working alone with her, constantly wondering if she really felt the same way. She was so much sweeter than usual, all giggly and silly in a way that I would normally find way too lovely-dovey, but now I thought it was cute. She was cute. Seriously cute. I couldn't believe she'd fallen for me.

I was falling for her, too, I knew. But when considered logically, it made sense. I think we'd make a good couple, honestly. We have a lot in common, and we've always gotten along. Her parents even like me.

More than once I'd found myself on the verge of asking the Whizbangs if they knew about their daughter's feelings for me, but each time I lost my nerve, telling myself it wasn't time yet. Once the words were out, my life would change. I needed more time! Time to finish my bunker, so I could impress Laurel and prove to her I would be a valuable partner who could keep her safe. Her parents, too. I wanted them to see the results of their teaching. I wanted them to be proud of me.

Acting normal around her became harder and harder. I became extremely overprotective of the lemon-haired troll. I had trouble controlling myself whenever she even looked at another troll. Or when someone else looked at her. I embarrassed myself in front of her more than once because of jealousy, but I couldn't help it.

Did Laurel have a crush on me? I could always ask Poppy to find out for me, but I was oddly reluctant. The idea that someone had special feelings for me had become an unexpected comfort; a source of dreams for a happier future than I'd ever imagined for myself. Deep down, I didn't want something to happen that might take that away from me.

-O-

"Branch, do you have a minute to talk?" asked King Peppy one day.

"Uh, I was just going to-"

"Now, please."

I gulped and followed him back to his pod. Had he found about me and Laurel? The last thing I needed was to have him get involved in my budding romance. Or worse, Poppy. Not now.

Once in private, after the usual greetings and offers of snacks, which I refused with automatic politeness, he began affably enough. "So I've noticed that I haven't seen you around the village lately. Poppy tells me that she's invited you to four tea parties, two beach parties, five raves, and three shindigs, but you haven't attended a single event for the past month."

I relaxed somewhat. So it's not about Laurel. My poor party attendance was a tiresome conversation as old as the hills. I'm sorry, I thought snarkily, I guess I've been too busy wearing myself out building a super-secret hideout to save us from our old enemy to have the energy to go to one of Poppy's little shindigs.

"Is there some reason for that?" he prodded, just as nosy as his daughter. "Maybe something I can help you with?"

"No," I muttered aloud. "I've just been really busy."

"Doing what?"

"Important stuff."

He sighed. "Branch, Hardware Hank came to me because you yelled at him yesterday for running out of 2-inch nails."

I gave a much longer sigh that ended in a little grumble. Of course. Go running to the king just because I lost my temper a little…

Even though I knew better, I was irritated enough to correct him. "2¾."

"What?"

"I needed 2¾-inch nails. He only had 2-inch nails. Way too short for what I needed them for. My blueprints are very specific." Of course I'd complained to Hank, a little more loudly than I meant to. I'd had to spend the afternoon melting down scrap iron to make my own nails, which had completely thrown off my schedule.

"All right, but did you really have to yell at the poor man, Branchkin? He was very upset."

As I looked into his troubled brown eyes, the familiar feeling of guilt pushed against my indignation. Lately I'd been putting a lot of pressure on many of the village's trade workers, relying on them for tools and equipment that I didn't have the time to make myself. I disliked having to rely on others, so when I did and someone let me down, I sometimes overreacted a little. Okay, maybe this time it was more than a little.

"I'm sorry," I said finally. "But I really needed those nails. I had to make my own instead, and that cost me time I couldn't afford. I had to lose sleep because of him. I have a deadline to meet." I stopped there, hearing the whine creep into my tone. The king always seemed to have that effect on me.

"What deadline?" he asked, but from the look on his face, I knew he knew.

I squirmed. "Trollstice." I hoped he wouldn't ask me for more details.

"Of course." He sighed again, but thankfully chose not to inquire. "Whatever the project, Branchkin, it is not worth treating another person so callously," he said sternly. "In this village we treat one another with respect. And as far as your project being delayed goes, do you even have the right to hold Hank responsible? Did he agree to provide 2 ¾-inch nails for your project?"

I opened my mouth, then clamped it shut and looked away.

The king waited.

"Did he, Branchkin?"

"No," I said sullenly.

"So it's not his fault, but you yelled at him anyway. How would you feel if you were in Hank's place?"

I hated it when he did this to me. Forced me to face my own callousness. Poppy did it, too, but for some reason it wasn't so hard to take from her. "Okay, okay!" I burst out, just to get it over with. "I'll go apologize to him! Is that what you want to hear?"

At my tone, his eyes narrowed. "Branchkin."

I gulped. "Sorry."

"You need to build good relationships with others," he scolded. "What do you think is going to happen the next time you need nails?"

I sighed. "I know. You're right, you're right. I was a total jerk. I'll tell him I'm sorry," I said sincerely. "I will."

Yielding to the king eased the hard glare he was putting on me. "Good. You're fifteen years old, Branchkin. You're not a trolling any more. You need to try harder…"

I sat there trying not to fidget, mentally estimating how much time this was going to cost me as the king droned on. Concerned about my behavior, attitude, life choices, blah, blah, blah. It was the same speech every time, about how trolls were so easy to get along with if only one tried a little harder. But somehow I was always the one who had to change. Why couldn't someone else change for once?

Oh, a few had tried. Once in a while I'd run into someone who seemed to get me. But every time, within a few hours I'd unmask them and they'd admit that the king had asked them to try to bond with me. Befriend the village loner in the hopes that if I felt more like a part of the village that I'd want to act more like the rest of them.

It was a good plan, I had to admit. The kind of plan I might come up with myself, if, like the rest of them, I honestly didn't believe the bergens were much of a threat anymore. From everyone else's points of view, I am crazy. And it's not like I don't wish I could just forget about them too, you know. But I can't. Not yet. Trollstice, the bergens' only holiday, is coming, and it's the ten-year anniversary of the day we escaped. That's got to have made them crazy-mad. They must have doubled their efforts to find us. Tripled! Hair, all of Bergentown is probably prowling the forest as we speak. Someone's got to do something. And since our esteemed leader's not doing his job, it's up to me.

Which just made me angry and resentful all over again. As the normally-jovial king continued to lecture me in that kind, even tone with the usual undercurrent of weariness, my feeling of betrayal grew. It hurt that no one took me seriously. It made me feel so indignant, so outraged!

So helpless, just the way I used to feel as a small, fearful trolling.

It's so not fair! He spends all day helping other trolls while leaving me to flounder alone. He tells everyone not to listen to me; that they don't have anything to be afraid of, even when we both know that's a lie! Jaunty and Courtley told me he sent them out on reconnaissance to look for signs that the bergens were still looking for us when I was ten. That was a good five years after we were supposedly "safe" from them. And they actually found evidence that the bergens are still out there!

Worse, he hid that knowledge from everyone. For all I know, my foster dads are still going out there, putting themselves at risk for this village just so everyone can keep living their happy-happy lives. That's better than nothing, but pretending there's nothing wrong is just hiding from the problem. It's wrong.

I'm sorry, but I just can't accept this pile of glitter you're trying to feed me. Thank you for your concern, but I'm my own troll and I'll think my own thoughts.

The bergens would find us one day. They would. It was just a matter of when.

The only reason we haven't been caught already is due to sheer luck. True, the king had mandated that there not be excessive amounts of noise or anything else that could call attention to our hiding place, but this was by no means a quiet, sleepy little village. When the bergens finally found us, I aimed to have a safe place to run to. If nothing else, I'd make sure Laurel and her family were safe.

By the time the king finished his lecture and I left his pod, I was grumbling under my breath. He meant well, but I couldn't help but resent our little "talks." I resented the time they cost me. Worse, I resented the uneasy feeling afterward that persisted for days, warning me that I was moving further and further down the wrong path.

I was doing something important with my life. Building my bunker. Granted, he didn't know that, but as he'd said, I was fifteen years old. I'd graduated from school. I was officially an adult now. Why did he keep treating me like a misguided trolling? Surely he could see by now that I had the right to act according to my chosen values, even if they weren't quite the same as everyone else's?

Even so, I did regret being such a problem for the king. He was Poppy's dad, and I honestly liked the man, and respected him. It's not like I want to be a troublemaker. I don't want to be at odds with my king, or the rest of my people. I dragged my hands down my face. Why is it that only Laurel doesn't act like I'm doing everything wrong?

I softened at the thought of my friend. Maybe because we grew up together. She's used to me," I thought nostalgically. She never seems to mind my quirks. We understand one another. Plus we share a love of creation, taught side by side under her parents' mentorship. Finetune and Savvy might tease me about how I'm always causing trouble for myself with all the conflicts I get into, but I like them. And they like me, too. I smiled as I thought about my kind mentors. Not many trolls do. I mean, Poppy does, but she keeps trying to make me change. "For your own good," she says. "You've got to be more social," she says, every time she gives me a new invitation. "You'll never make friends if you don't try."

Well, I don't need friends. Not if I have Laurel by my side. Anyway, Trollstice is nearly here. Then I'll be the one giving the invitations - to shelter in my bunker, and everyone else will be the ones apologizing to me.

I did go back to Hardware Hank to deliver an appropriately contrite apology. Hank accepted, and responded by giving me a small bag of new 2 ¾ -inch nails. I perked up and thanked him with considerably more enthusiasm. Better late than never. I always needed more nails. As I walked home I decided that the new nails more than made up for the time King Peppy's lecture had cost me, putting me in a good mood for once.

It was the last good mood I would enjoy for a long time.

-O-

As the grand Ten-Year Trollstice celebration approached, everyone in the village grew joyous and excited. Everyone but me. The only emotions I felt were rising agitation and a grim determination to work, utterly sure that when September seventeenth arrived, so would a slavering horde of bergens. How could they not? This was an enormously significant event, wasn't it? It would be just like them to show up and ruin it. I could practically hear them say, "Gotcha!"

The only thing that consoled me was my secret bunker. It would save me and Laurel and anyone else who chose to follow me. In my bunker, I'd be the one in charge. I'd keep us all safe.

On the evening before Trollstice I completed the last of the work on my bunker's essential systems, right on schedule. I'd also collected enough food and supplies to last us all for three days, which ought to be long enough to wait out the initial raid and decide what to do next. Although I suspected that the supplies would probably last longer than that, because as much as I wanted "No Troll Left Behind" to happen, it probably wouldn't.

Still, I'd done what I could. All I had to do now was wait. With time on my hands, I decided the smart thing to do was go to sleep early. No telling when I'll get a chance to rest in the near future.

As I lay in my hammock waiting to feel sleepy, for the first time in weeks I was free to think, and to wonder. But rather than speculate on the upcoming danger, my mind began to drift toward the unexpectedly enticing topic I'd done my best to ignore up to now: Laurel Whizbang's crush on me.

When did it happen? And why? I discovered I was looking forward to finding out. I couldn't deny that being seen as someone admirable had made me feel bolder lately. More confident. I liked the feeling. It made me want to live up to all of Laurel's expectations, to make her proud of me.

I wondered what a future with Laurel might be like. Sharing a pod, eating meals together, working side by side, Hug Times, bedroom games. Having a family someday, with trollings who would call me Daddy. I would teach them how to build things, and they would look up to me with admiring eyes, as Acorn once had. Normal dreams, for the least-normal troll in the village. Probably impossible…

But underneath, as always, I was making plans.

-O-

When the dreaded date arrived, I spent it scanning the surrounding area from my hilltop, ready to set off a series of siren-bugs if I so much as noticed a gleam off a bergen's toenail. Tensely I watched over the gathering below as King Peppy and twelve-year-old Princess Poppy took turns leading the enormous celebration, growing more and more on edge as the day progressed. I kept track of the positions of the trolls who were important to me, so I could get to them quickly.

All day long I jumped at every sound, my nerves vibrating like guitar strings.

Night came, and the party went on. Dawn came, and the trolls went to bed. And there I was, alone at my post, exhaustion and overtaxed nerves dragging me down into oblivion.

When I awoke hours later, the sun shone warmly on my back. I used my binoculars to scan the village, where a few trolls were wandering around, looking sleepy. One of them yawned, and I yawned, too. Then I stretched, feeling lazy and relaxed. Nothing had happened. We were still safe. The bergens hadn't found us.

Part of me was glad, but another part was disappointed. After all my hard work – nothing happened? I scratched my head. "I don't understand it. Why didn't they come? Don't they care?"

I felt like a host who'd sent out invitations, only to have no one come to my party. That had actually happened to me once. It had been a school assignment. I had dutifully followed the instructions and chosen a theme that interested me, but Poppy had explained later that a party whose theme was How Not to Get Killed by Bergens sounded like the opposite of a fun time. Humiliated, I'd never tried again.

I began to pace. "No, that can't be it. I remember how mad they were, how they tried to dig us out of the escape tunnel. I'm sure they still want us. But maybe…maybe they think we're all dead, killed in the tunnel collapse. Maybe that's it. Maybe- Ahhh!" I yelped, as an earsplitting "Owah-wah-wah-wah-wah-wah-wah!" blasted me.

I dived into the nearest bush.The screechy warble came again, and this time I recognized it. A purple-headed noon-rooster.

"Hey! Stop that! Shoo! Go away!" I jumped out of the bush and flapped a hand at it. It flew off, wah-ing all the way.

I growled in disgust. "Or maybe the racket from all the singing trees and critters like that around here act as camouflage. Even if they hear trolls singing, the bergens might not realize it's us. Maybe we really are safe after all."

The thought should have shocked me, but surprisingly, I felt nothing. I stood for a minute, waiting to see if a bergen would come bursting through the trees, proving me wrong.

Nothing happened.

After a long silence my shoulders relaxed, and I sighed. A great big long sigh of relief, and resignation. "Or maybe everyone's right after all. Maybe they're really not still looking for us."

I sat down on the grass, listening to the cheerful singing of the nearby critters and letting it all sink in. When a cute little glowfly flew nearby, I said to it, "I can't believe they're not still looking for us, but I guess we must be doing something right or they'd have found us by now."

The glowfly blinked its bright black eyes at me and dipped in midair, as if nodding agreement. I reached out to pat the soft green fuzz and the bug's little mouth smiled in pleasure. "Well, I've done what I can. Right, little guy? My bunker is the best solution I've been able to come up with to keep us all safe, and it'll always be there in case we need it. I'll keep maintaining it – I might even expand its amenities – but what I've built will do for now. As long as the status quo doesn't change - as long as we don't do anything big to call attention to ourselves, then things might actually be…okay."

That certainly wasn't a new idea, but for the first time since I lost my grandma I felt able to accept it. I think the prospect of a life with Laurel made the difference. It made me want to be wrong to have such a pessimistic outlook on life.

"So…now what?" I asked the bug. It flew up against my chest, asking for cuddles, and instead of brushing it impatiently aside as I usually did when the local wildlife wanted attention, I reached up and stroked it. It made a brrrrr noise, halfway between a shiver and a purr, so cute and funny I couldn't help but smile.

I scratched and stroked the little round body for a few minutes, gradually decompressing from the stress of the past several months. The past ten years, actually. I'd never actually thought much about what to do with my life beyond surviving the inevitable bergen attack with as many of my fellows as possible, but it really seemed as if things were actually going to turn out all right. It felt like a dream. Was this the way everyone else felt every day?

After a while I noticed that the hand petting the glowfly seemed brighter than normal. Were my colors finally returning after all this time? What other good things would happen today?

After the glowfly flew off I lay back down on the grass, gazing up at the cloudless blue sky. For the first time in years I let myself relax and enjoy the breeze riffling my hair while pleasant daydreams played behind my unfocused eyes.

When my belly rumbled, I decided to head into the village. Maybe there are still some party treats left. Then I'll find Laurel and invite her to see my bunker. I'll let it wow her, and then… It might be time for a confession.

But it was already too late. I didn't know it, but my bunker was the one thing in the world that I'd built that wasn't about to come crashing down around my ears.

-O-

"Branch, I've got wonderful news! I'm getting married!" Laurel said the moment she saw me, her brilliant smile lighting up her face in a way I'd never seen before.

The blood drained from my face. "What?" I said faintly, my head spinning. I didn't… Does that mean she doesn't… "Who? What?" There didn't seem to be enough air in the workpod.

"Quill asked me last night at the anniversary celebration. Oh, I'm so happy I could just scream!"

"Quill?" The name caught my attention. "Quill Filigree? The guy who writes plays?"

"That's the one," she said cheerily. "We've been seeing each other for four months and twenty days now. Since the last Frolic Festival."

"Four months?"

"And twenty days," she sighed, smiling blissfully.

"But – that-that-that was months ago!" I blurted out. "I don't remember you saying anything about this."

"Well, I did tell you that Quill and I partnered together during the last Frolic Festival, but I don't think you were really listening. You know how you get when you're busy," she commented cheerfully.

I did remember that, vaguely. "I guess I just assumed it was a standard Festival fling." Now that I thought about it, I had seen Quill with Laurel off and on since then, but I hadn't thought anything of it. I'd even gotten into a conflict with Quill on Hug Day, but I'd forgotten all about it until now. "You've partnered with Quill before, haven't you?" I asked slowly.

"Yes, a few years ago. We had a good time. But back then, it was just for fun. This time is different. We're both older now. We're ready to settle down with a life partner."

I gaped at her, truly astonished. "You've never mentioned wanting to settle down before."

"I've been thinking about it for a while now, actually."

"Really?" I ran a hand through my hair, honestly mind-blown. "This is the first time I'm hearing it."

"Well, no offense, Branchkin, but you don't…er, socialize much these days," she said tactfully.

Laurel was right. I'd been practically living in my bunker for the past few months. I'd even been sleeping there, in the hammock I'd hung in the lowest, most secure level.

The meaning of her words finally sunk through the shock. "Wait, you fell for him during the last Frolic Festival? Then it's probably just a frofi."

"We wondered about that at first," Laurel admitted. "But we decided to give being a couple a try, and we're still together. In fact, the longer we're together, the more things we find we have in common."

Now the anger kicked in. "Seriously? You're an engineer. He's a playwright. They're nothing alike!" I crossed my arms, my tone sharp with incredulous contempt.

"Not so," she told me, giving me a puzzled look. I'd never raised my voice at her before. Not like this. "We both create things. We both choose a theme and use our tools to construct a completed work, making sure every individual piece supports and facilitates the others. It's just that his tools are words."

I snorted and shook my head dismissively, refusing to even consider the possibility. It's not too late. I can get her to reconsider. She's a sensible person, after all. We're both engineers - I'm obviously a better match for her.

"Words, huh? So he just sweet-talked you into falling in love with him? Is that it?" I said petulantly. "I mean, come on, Laurel. I don't get it. What could an amazing troll like you possibly see in him?"

Rather than take offense, Laurel only laughed gently. The sunlight made her bright skin and hair glow - or maybe that was because she was in love. "Thank you for the compliment. And as to what I love about Quill, well, maybe if you made friends with him you'd find out."

I crossed my arms. "Let me think about it. Yeah, no."

Laurel only smiled. "You know, Quill is also a poet. He could teach you a lot."

"Him, teach me? About what? Floating on 'flying cupcakes'?" I sneered, quoting a popular work of his that had circled the village last year. My lip curled in disgust. "Forget it. Why would I want to learn something so ridiculously sentimental? Poetry's just a-a waste of valuable time."

Her sunny face clouded over, and I instantly regretted my harshness.

With a serious expression she replied earnestly, "Poetry is a tool, Branchkin. A valuable tool for expressing one's thoughts and feelings." She took a step toward me, her soft green eyes gazing directly into mine. "Especially those feelings that one might find difficult to confess to having in other ways, don't you think?"

I gasped and stiffened. So she'd known all along. Face blazing, I backed away, mumbled a generic congratulations on her wedding, and made my escape.

-O-

How did everything go so wrong? First I was wrong about the bergens, and now I've lost the only girl who might have been my soulmate, I moaned inwardly as I trudged through the village, feeling the bitter grayness bear down on me harder than ever. Hands the color of river stones dangled limply at my sides, void of the last trace of hue. What else could possibly go wrong?

I shouldn't have asked.

As I passed through the market square, my attention was snagged by a familiar, dreaded word. I stopped short to listen.

"…the bergens." King Peppy was announcing grandly from the center of the mushroom stage. "After ten long years with no sign of them, I've decided to lift the bans on music noise levels."

"What?" I said sharply, unable to believe my ears.

A cheer went up from the surrounding trolls. "All right!" shouted DJ Suki, gleefully waving her arms in the air.

I stood there numbly as the crowd roared around me. Apparently I wasn't the only one who'd done some thinking, and made some new choices. But lifting the noise ban?Had the king gone crazy?

"Furthermore, I've decided the time has come to allow the use of fireworks again."

"YeAAAhhh! PYYYroTECHnics!" Cooper's joyful bellow sounded distorted, like he was speaking through a tunnel that led to my biggest nightmare.

My hair tingled and my heart began to pound. I knew a freakout was coming but I didn't care. Righteous outrage heated up inside me, ready to blow. Even if they're not still looking for us after all this time, they won't be able to miss- You're gonna lead them right to us!

Then I was attacked on all sides by ecstatic trolls, hugging me and jumping up and down. "Hey! Let me go!"

They didn't listen, yanking me this way and that, whirling me into an impromptu dance. Everywhere I looked I saw big faces with big smiles full of big teeth – big sharp white gleaming fangs coming to devour us like Grandma-

I lost it. "Are you all insane?" I shrieked.

Everything stopped. Nearby trolls backed away as I used my hair to propel myself onto the stage. Everyone gawked at me, but I didn't care. I was boiling mad! "Do you all have a deathwish?" I shouted down at them. "Are you trying to bring them here?"

Into the dead silence, King Peppy took a step toward me. "Branchkin, I don't think-"

"That's right, you don't." Venom colored my tone as black as my hair. "You don't think. None of you think!"

Gasps of shock at my blatant insult cooled my fury a little. Desperately, I looked around, seeing not a single ally in the crowd. "Don't any of you care?" To my shame, I heard my voice crack. Heat filled my cheeks. Worse, tears filled my eyes. I hated looking like a baby in front of everyone!

Through blurry, burning eyes I saw everyone staring at me with pity.

"Of course we care, son," the king said reassuringly.

Just then I caught two familiar blurs, purple and magenta. Jaunty and Courtley were here, watching me cause yet another public disturbance, their expressions full of sympathy. My throat filled, and my lower lip trembled. All of a sudden I wanted to run to my dads, to throw myself into their arms and let them make everything all right again. But just as I took a step toward them, a glittery magenta trolling ran up to them, climbing up Courtley's body and disappearing into his hair.

Helpless, jealous rage swallowed up the flicker of hope like a tidal wave engulfing a candle. I blinked hard to clear my eyes and caught the king looking at me with compassion.

That was the last hair.

"Don't call me that! I'm not your son!" I cried wretchedly, hardly knowing who I was speaking to. "I know you think I'm wrong, but I'm not! Loud music and fireworks? Why not just send up a giant hot air balloon with a streamer saying 'Here we are? Come eat us!'"

No one answered. I saw a few trolls glance dubiously at one another, and sensed an opening.

"King Peppy, you've got to listen to me," I urged, gesturing in the air. "This is a terrible idea. You can't do it." Emphatically I swiped my hands across one another. "You can't change the rules. You'll lead them all right to us! You-"

"Branchkin, that is enough!" King Peppy said so sternly that I and everyone else winced.

As I watched, the orange troll seemed to grow taller, more powerful. "Maybe to you I'm just Poppy's dad, but let me remind you that I am the king of Troll Village." He inclined his head grandly, and I stared up at the majestic tower of magenta, ringed with a handsome crown of white trollberries. Strong and proud, he looked every inch a leader as he stated in a grand, ringing tone, "I am the troll who led us all to safety. I am the troll who has guarded and protected this village for the past decade, and it has been my rules that have kept us all safe and sound all this time. My rules, Branchkin. Not yours."

My jaw dropped at the fierceness in his tone. Uh oh. He's taking this personally. An echo of Leafe's voice came back to me. "It's a king's job to look after all his subjects."

I glanced around to see lines of nervous strain on the faces of those around me, and my insides went cold. Oh, boy. This was serious. I'd really made him mad this time. We'd disagreed before, but this was the first time I'd ever openly challenged him like this in front of everyone. But when I thought about the stupid, stupid choice he was making, it still made me livid. He was practically inviting the bergens to an all-you-can-eat troll buffet!

I could tell from the king's defiant stare that he had no interest in listening to reason. In fact, he probably wished I would get out of his hair for good.

"Easy there, Branchkin," called a voice I knew and disliked immensely. Creek came floating down from the sky, his hair held in the grasp of his helper bug.

He ran a suave hand over his graceful swoop of bright-colored hair and gave me a bland, pleasant smile. "Now then, friend, why don't we all calm down? We can sit down, have a little snack, and talk this out like civilized people."

"I didn't ask for your opinion, you irritating meddler," I growled. "Stay out of this. It's none of your business."

"Branchkin!" the king scolded, and I winced. "How many times have I told you that in this village we do not call each other names? Apologize at once."

"But he…" My automatic protest died on my lips as I looked around. Maybe some of the trolls had had doubts, but no one was on my side now. In fact, many of the faces glaring up at me looked downright hostile. Except for Creek, who was smiling smugly. He was enjoying this.

Again my temper flared, and I had to look away to avoid the overwhelming urge to slap that smile off his face, something that would get me into even more trouble than I was already hair-deep in.

"Branchkin? We're waiting," said King Peppy, crossing his arms.

I ground my teeth together. The last thing I wanted to do was be forced to apologize to Creek, of all people. To humiliate myself in front of the entire village.

Why was I here? Why was I even doing this? No one listened to me anyway.

My bunker beckoned. For the first time, I had somewhere to go. Somewhere way safer than this ridiculous village could ever hope to be. I didn't have to apologize to Creek. I didn't have to apologize to anyone! Not if I didn't want to. I didn't have to take this anymore.

"You know what? Fine! Go ahead- Have your stupid fireworks! See if I care!" Loud gasps followed me as I stomped away.

"Branchkin! Come back here!"

"Forget it. I'm not staying in this deathtrap of a village another minute. I'm moving out."

More gasps, and small cries of dismay and indignation. I didn't care. I was sick and tired everything about this village. As I neared the edge of the stage, I yelled a few bitter words at the king over my shoulder. "When the bergens come rampaging through the village gulping everyone down right and left, you'll regret not listening to me! You hear me? The coming disaster will be on your hair!"

"Branchkin!"

Lightning shot down my spine, shattering my cold rage. My gaze snapped down into the crowd to see Laurel standing there, looking horrified. She must have heard every word. "How could you say something like that?"

She looked more upset than I'd ever seen her. A flash of memory jolted me, of how happy she'd looked earlier as she told me of her upcoming wedding, until I'd opened my mouth and started bringing her down. All of a sudden I felt like a monster.

I couldn't bear for Laurel to see me like this. Couldn't bear to have all those eyes on me.

Crazy.

It was happening again, the same sick, nightmarish cycle. Over and over I destroyed the happiness of the people I cared about. And I knew that it would keep on happening – unless I did the one thing I still had the power to do. The same thing I'd done with Acorn. Walk away, and take my sucky attitude with me. Only I hadn't gone far enough.

Everywhere I looked I saw anger, worry, sadness, pain - on every face around me. Including Laurel's – and the king's. "I – I'm sorry! I didn't mean it!"

I fled to my bunker as fast as my hair could sling me, vowing to live as a hermit forever.

-O-

Through my own fault, I'd lost my grandma.

Then over a dozen sets of foster parents had given up on me, one after another.

Then I had lost Jaunty and Courtley, because I couldn't let our past with the bergens go. I just couldn't be the happy son they wanted, the son they deserved.

I had felt forced to cut myself off from my little Acorn, to protect him from my toxic influence.

Then Leafe and Cherry Blossom had left me to get married and live a blissful life together.

And now Laurel was, too.

The king didn't want me in his village. None of them wanted me.

There was no one left. No ties to bind me, no warmth to draw me back. I was so weary of it all.

I craved the comfort of my bunker, where it was cold and dark, but safe. Safe not just from physical harm, but from all the feelings that could hurt me deep inside, leaving the kind of wounds from which no amount of guarding would ever keep me safe. I wanted to go home, and so I did.

This time, I was going to be the one who walked away.

Dreamsinger's Corner:

Hug Day is a reference from Trolls the Beat Goes On.

So here we see Branch going through the last stages of detaching himself from the village for good. Poor Peppy took the brunt of it, since as King he represents the village, and Authority. Notice how even though he lectures Branch on being an adult, he's still calling him by his childhood nickname. Although to be fair, Branch is still pretty immature at this age. Peppy keeps giving him more chances, but Branch only sees life in terms of his own agendas. With no one to connect with from now on, it's no wonder his worldview is going to shrink until there's practically no one in his life who matters other than himself -and Poppy.

You might be wondering why Branch never spread the word himself that King Peppy and his foster parents, Jaunty and Courtley, have been doing discreet surveillance. First, personality types like Branch (ISTJ according to the MBTI, or Type 6, Enneagram) regard loyalty as highly important, which is partly why Branch tends to hold grudges and remembers betrayals for a long, long time afterward. But ISTJs also respect the chain of command. Personal issues aside, Branch thinks Peppy is a good king. He runs his village well and wisely. He's compassionate and understanding, and Branch knows that under a different sort of king he might already have been banished by now. He does feel loyalty and gratitude toward the man, and wishes he could make him proud.

Second, Branch is glad that Peppy has at least conducted some type of discreet surveillance, which is better than nothing at all. If he tells the other trolls, the king might feel the need to stop doing even that much in order to prove that he doesn't share Branch's fears.

Third, there's always the chance that the bergens never come, and thus Branch's insistence on vigilance is a gigantic, embarrassing waste of time and effort. I feel like one of the main reasons movie-Branch was able to change and become happier so quickly was because of the confidence boost of being proven right all along.