Chapter Text
Eventually, Branch realized he was back in his bunker, sitting in the darkest corner of the storage room, curled into a small ball. Then, he noticed the pink blob sitting in front of him.
She had been talking, but cut off when his head raised up. “Do you need anything?” She prompted.
Her hug time bracelet chimed, but she remained still, waiting for him to communicate what he needed.
He held out his hand, and she crawled over and took it, sitting next to him.
“I don't even know what it means to be a boyband troll,” he admitted. “But was that why I didn't- why I'm so bad at being a pop troll?”
Her face fell. “Oh, sweetie,” she said. “It doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to. But you're not bad at being a pop troll.”
He shrugged, noncommittally. “I'm bad enough that it's clear to everyone else I don't belong here.”
She glared. “Who told you that?” She asked.
“Practically the whole village!” He snapped. “You were the one exception for most of our childhoods!”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, tense. “Oh.” He buried his head in his knees again, but didn't pull his hand back.
It was silent for a bit before Poppy squeezed his hand and spoke again. “You know, from what I understand, Boybands are very similar to general Pop trolls-”
“So I'm bad at both, then?” He snapped.
She raised an eyebrow, but continued. “-and I'm sorry that we both failed you.”
His head snapped up, questioning on his face. “It’s not- you didn't…”
“I talked to John Dory while you were asleep on Rhonda,” she explained. “He told me about what it was like in the Boyband village.” Branch opened his mouth to protest, but she held her hand up for him to wait. “He didn't say that it was a different village. I didn't even think about that until a little bit ago. He told me about how your parents died, and the five of you were left with your grandma, who couldn't take care of 5 boys. How you guys had to be pretty self-sufficient. And, as much as I hate to admit it, my dad did a bad job of making sure you were taken care of too. Cooper was raised just like everyone else, despite his non-pop origin. You've been raising yourself , neglected by both tribes. I feel it'd be kinda hard to fit in after all that.”
He looked at her with a carefully blank expression, before slowly lowering his head to rest on her shoulder.
“You belong here. If anything, we don't deserve you .”
They sat in silence again, leaning on each other.
“I would have been 5 or 6 when we… left? I should remember more than this,” he mourned. “I should know more about being Boyband.”
“Well,” Poppy suggested. “There's four trolls upstairs who could probably answer a couple questions.”
He mentally counted. That didn't make sense. “Four?”
His girlfriend giggled. “After you ran off, Clay ran to John Dory, proclaiming that he didn't know what to do about real negative emotions, and then John started freaking out, yelling that he didn't either, and the two of them hustled all the way to Vaycay Island and back to get Bruce.”
He snorted. “And Floyd?”
“Made tea and laughed at your brothers. Last I saw, they were all trailing rainbows.”
He let out a short laugh. “Serves them right.”
She smiled, squeezing his hand. “Do you want to go see?”
He shrugged. “Maybe a few minutes?” His girlfriend nodded, and the two sat in silence, allowing him to process everything.
—
Later, Branch decided that he was ready to talk, but he didn't want to do it in his bunker. Instead, he had Poppy herd them into Rhoda, who he directed into Bergentown.
Without saying anything, he parked her at the base, got out, and began scaling the tree. Once all the brothers were unloaded, she got up, turning back to the village to get Poppy and Viva in order to get the putt-putt trolls.
When the pod came into sight, he heard gasps behind him.
Slowly, they entered the pod, looking at the vines covering the familiar furniture.
“How did this get here?” Bruce asked, voice quiet.
“I don't know,” Branch admitted. “I don't remember much of anything from before the escape.”
They stared at the space in silence for a moment before someone spoke up.
“Viva told me a bit about it,” Clay admitted, shyly. “Do you want me to tell you what she told me?”
They settled down on the couches, all leaning forwards, tense.
“Well, she didn't love talking about the tree, but from what I gather, they finished the tunnels just over 21 years ago, and were about ready to escape from the Bergens.”
“Sorry to cut in,” Bruce interrupted. “But what is a Bergen? And why are they so terrifying, exactly?”
Branch pointed outside the window. “They're the giants right outside.” The brothers had seen them walking in, so none of them moved to look again. “And they used to eat trolls in order to feel happy. They locked the tree in a giant cage, and once a year, they'd come and harvest trolls for a party.”
The brothers (except Clay, who had heard it from Viva before) all paled.
“Why are we here , then?!” Bruce demanded, moving to stand up.
“Poppy made peace with them,” Branch said, exhaustedly, yet affectionately. “The king and queen were actually the ones who helped us save you guys from Velvet and Veneer.”
JD blanched. “I crashed the royal wedding.”
Branch snorted. “Yes you did. Bridget thought it was hilarious.” His face shifted back to seriousness. “But the trolls escaped just under 21 years ago. What happened?”
Clay nodded. “According to Viva, there weren't many pop trolls left. The Bergens were worried about running out, so they… found more trolls.”
“The boyband trolls,” Branch muttered.
Clay nodded. “Viva said that Peppy heard you guys were coming and waited until the Bergens had brought you guys to the tree to escape. She said you guys arrived a week before Trollstice.”
“But what about everyone else?” Floyd asked, voice nearing desperation. “Branch wasn't the only one to make it to the tree, right?!”
Clay faltered. “ To the tree?”
“...you said you went back around 21 years ago,” Branch realized. “I thought you saw the escape, but you saw them take Boyband village, didn't you?”
Floyd nodded, tearing up. “I- I saw-” his ears drooped further. “I thought they were just eating everyone . Our pod was gone .”
Clay looked at his brother tensely, analyzing his face. “You went gray, didn’t you?”
Branch's head shot over to his immediate elder brother, and noticed his down-turned ears. He brought a hand up to his own subconsciously.
His brother, though, ignored the question, and instead repeated his own. “What happened to everyone else?”
Clay grimaced. “We're… not really sure,” he admitted. The others’ faces fell. “We know a lot of the ones that made it to the tree ended up with the putt-putt trolls, but we're not sure. The amount of trolls that Viva said arrived would have been only a small portion of the villages, but there's no way they were all eaten, right?” He glanced over at Branch, who was frowning consideringly.
“I… don’t know,” Branch admitted. “Do you think they could have hidden? Or, ran away?” He asked, quietly.
“With all the destruction they left behind?” Floyd questioned rhetorically. “I didn't think anyone could have made it out of that.”
“Destruction?” John Dory frowned. “But the grove was empty when I arrived. All the stages and stands were gone. There were only a few pods left on the ground. It more looked like everyone picked up and moved rather than got taken.”
They all sat in silent consideration for a second.
“What if they did run away?” Bruce questioned. “What if they hid, and then after the attack, they grabbed everything and ran somewhere else?”
They all perked up at that.
“We have to go find them!” John Dory declared. “I'll get-!” He paused. “Rhonda's gone, isn't she?”
Branch gave an affirmative hum. “Besides, we shouldn't go rushing off right away. They're probably safe, wherever they’re at. Maybe they like it there,” he suggested.
“Maybe,” Clay admitted. “But they'd probably be overjoyed to be reunited. Even if they don't stay together, at least then they’d know.”
“We stopped the Rock-pocalypse over a month ago,” Branch argued. “Even John heard about it in the Neverglades. They would be here by now if they wanted me- us. If they wanted to see us ,” he corrected himself.
His brothers’ faces fell, and they glanced at each other.
Branch scoffed, crossing his arms defensively and leaning against the wall (putting his back to something, protecting himself). “Apparently, I don't even remember what it was like there, so what does it matter anyways.”
“Well, we're usually nowhere near as friendly as Popstar,” John Dory stated, putting out a casual air. “Usually, you found your group and stuck to them.”
“Except for the groupies,” Bruce explained. “They would find a band they liked and try their hardest to become a part of their group.”
“They didn't sing as much, either,” Clay added. “Groupies and fans would sing along to the bands, but like, the all-village-morning-song wouldn't happen there,” he joked.
“The what?” Bruce interrupted.
John Dory snorted. “Oh man, you should have seen it!” He joked. “I'm tumbling out of Branch's bunker, still half-asleep, and Poppyseed bursts past me, pulling out an impromptu song that the whole village joins in on! No rehearsal or anything!”
“Not the whole village,” Branch grumbled.
“No,” John agreed. “I guess not. Your girlfriend led a pretty impressive crowd, though- at least two-thirds of the village. And someone told me you guys don't rehearse or prepare for those? Man… that would never happen back home.”
“Oh, yeah,” Bruce said, reminiscing. “I remember all the hoops and changes we had to go through with each song. Everything had to fit ‘the brand,’” he mocked. He rolled his eyes. “I remember how confused I was the first time the Vaycayers just started singing how they were feeling.”
“So, we can't improv?” Branch questioned. “But I've done it before?”
Bruce shrugged. “I mean, I think most trolls can, but it was highly frowned upon in Boybands. It was always a competition, so everything had to be done a certain way in order to satisfy the highest number of fans possible.”
“Yeah, like sending Bruce on ‘dates’ with fans,” John Dory teased. Bruce punched him in the side, causing them to start squabbling.
“At least I wasn't the one in funderdrawers !” Bruce argued, at one point.
Clay let out a small shout. “Since when am I a part of this?!” He snapped, joining in the squabbling.
Branch's ears flattened against his head. It was the second time they were all together as a family, and they were arguing again.
“I'm guessing you don't remember this either.”
He looked over, seeing Floyd eyeing him softly. His voice had been quiet, not loud enough to interrupt the others.
“They used to do this every day,” he added, nodding to where the older three were still arguing.
Branch's shoulders raised up to his ears. “Fighting? Is this a Boyband thing too?”
Floyd shrugged. “More a ‘having a lot of siblings’ thing. I know at least Rock Trolls tend to have fights like this too.” When Branch's ears remained pressed against his head, Floyd continued. “They're not actually mad right now. Just look at John Dory's smile. And Bruce and Clay are doing this specific face-scrunch that means they're joking around.”
“Oh.” Branch said, untensing slightly, though still looking concerned.
Floyd hummed appraisingly. “Well, you can't tell them, this is a youngest-only thing, but if you're ever uncomfortable with their arguing, there is a trick to make them stop.” Branch raised an eyebrow, consideringly.
The pink-haired brother winked at him, before tilting his head down so his bangs were hiding his face. Then, his breath hitched like he was crying.
Immediately, the other three stopped, rushing over to check on him.
“I’m sorry,” Floyd muttered. “It’s just- watching you three arguing back in Grandma's pod…”
They immediately switched to assuring him that they weren't really mad, but that they'll try not to argue like that again.
In a split-second moment, the three of them looked away, and Floyd sent a reassuring wink in Branch's direction.
The semi-gray troll was suddenly reminded of when Floyd did the same thing when they were trollings. His chest felt tight as he watched his brothers acting familiar with each other, making jokes and reassuring each other.
“I was gray for 20 years,” he blurted out.
The others’ heads snapped over, even Floyd staring at him in shock.
“I waited for you guys, for anyone to come and take me in, but no one did,” he admitted, growing more tense. “I wasn't like anyone else- they asked if I was really a troll. Then, after the World Tour, it became if I was really a Pop Troll. It kinda sucks to know they were right this whole time.”
“What are you talking about!?” Clay argued. “They were not right!”
Branch shrugged. “I mean, I'm not a Pop Troll, am I? I kinda hoped, when I was younger, that they were right, and that trolls like me would come and take me away from here. They were right: I didn't belong, and no one cared about me enough to stay.”
His statement hung like a weight in the air. All of the brothers looked down in shame.
“Poppy did,” John Dory spoke up eventually. “Didn't she?” He asked rhetorically. He let out a huff, which sounded forcefully amused. “She lectured us after the argument on Rhonda. And… uh, she gave me another one when I was driving us back.”
Bruce huffed. “She made me like Grandma was glaring at me from beyond the grave. She's got power behind her words, and she knows it.”
“When was this?” Floyd questioned, thinking back on the past couple days.
The older three winced. “Like, an hour before we got captured too?” John said weakly.
“Didn't you guys start fighting again immediately afterwards?” Branch cut in, snappishly. “Even when you guys were in the shoulder pads, you were snapping at each other.”
“You saw that?” John asked, tensely.
“He was in the vents,” Floyd answered for him.
Bruce's face shifted through a variety of emotions. “We're… trying.” Branch opened his mouth to speak, but Bruce held a hand up to request for him to wait. “We're not good at being a family again, yet, but we're trying to be better. We want to be a better family for you, but we get if you don't want us to.”
The youngest hid his face in his hands, and the others glanced at each other, nervously waiting for a response.
“That’s all I ever wanted.” His words were accompanied with hitching breath, a clear sign of incoming tears.
Slowly, Floyd reached out, placing a hand on his knee. When Branch looked up, his pink-haired brother held his arms open in hesitant invitation.
Branch accepted the hug gratefully, and he felt his chest get lighter when the others joined in.