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Chapter Text

When Branch sat down at one of the only empty seats in the airport, he wasn’t thinking a lot about the pink-haired girl he sat down next to. After all, it was an airport, and she was a stranger. Typically, the strangers he sat next to at airports left him alone.

Not this girl, though. Almost as soon as he pulled out his phone to check the news again, she grinned at him and said, “Hi! How’re you doing today?”

And honestly, Branch just wanted to be left alone. So after a couple minutes of polite conversation, he excused himself and went to go sit in another section of the airport.

He wasn’t expecting to ever think about her, or see her, again.

But as he watched her look at her ticket, look at the number above his seat, look back at her ticket, and sit down next to him, he realized that wasn’t going to be the case.

“Oh, hey! It’s you again!” she said, grinning wide again. Why was she so happy? This was just a flight—nothing exciting. Her attitude was especially strange now, what with COVID-19 spreading around the globe.

Managing a small smile, he said, “Um, yeah, it’s me again.”

“Well, since we’re going to be stuck with each other for a while, why not introduce ourselves?” she said cheerfully. “I’m Poppy! What’s your name?”

“My name’s, uh, Branch,” he said, wondering if he should be telling this stranger anything about himself.

“Oh, cool name!” she said. “Nice to meet you, Branch! What are you doing on this lovely flight?”

“Going home,” he said, trying to be as vague as possible. The idea that she wanted his personal information made more sense with every passing second—after all, nobody that he’d met, or even heard of, in his whole life, approached strangers with this kind of exuberance.

“That’s funny! I’m just leaving home.”

Even though he was planning on being as cold as possible until she left him alone, that statement was enough to make him turn to her and say, “Isn’t that dangerous? With the coronavirus spreading?”

She just shrugged. “Well, I mean, I was trying to take advantage of the cheap plane tickets. And I’m only 24, and healthy. I’ll probably be fine.”

“Yeah, but you could spread it to someone who won’t be fine.”

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna be careful about hygiene. See, I have hand sanitizer!” She pulled a small bottle of Purell out of her purse to show him.

“COVID-19 is a virus,” he pointed out. “Hand sanitizer can only kill bacteria.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess you’re right. But at least I’ll be bacteria-free!” She grinned at him.

Branch could tell he wasn’t going to get anywhere if he kept arguing with her, so he sighed and turned to look out the window. Not that it was any more interesting. They weren’t moving at all.

Nearly an hour later, they were still sitting there, the plane in the exact same position as it’d been before. Branch was reading a book, and the pink-haired girl next to him—Poppy—was making a friendship bracelet.

“Hello, everyone, this is your pilot,” came a voice through the PA system. Poppy looked up from her crafts and grinned. “HI!” she yelled.

Branch really tried not to make a judgmental face.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of the virus that’s going around,” the pilot’s voice said. “I regret to inform you that we’ve run into some complications with it, and as such, this flight has been delayed. It might be a while, so feel free to get off the plane at wait at the gate. We will announce boarding time when we’ve tackled the problem. In the meantime, try to enjoy yourselves. We apologize for the inconvenience.”

Branch heaved a sigh. This was ridiculous. He’d just wanted to get home before stuff like this started happening.

“Aww, why so grumpy?” Poppy said, noticing his reaction. “It’s only a little delay.”

“It’s only a matter of time until the entire flight is canceled and I’m stuck here,” he told her. “Why aren’t you grumpy? Your vacation is being sabotaged by the stupid virus.”

She shrugged. “Eh. I mean, I knew something like this might happen when I was buying my cheap plane tickets. Besides, I’ve never had anything like this happen before! It’s like an adventure!” She was obviously excited about this, for some reason. “Well, hey, I think I’m gonna go buy myself a donut. You want something?”

“Uh, no.” Since when did strangers on planes offer to buy each other snacks?

“Okay, well, do you have any allergies?”

“. . . No . . .” It wasn’t a lie. “You don’t have to get me anything, you know.”

“I know. See you later!” With that, she hopped up and got off the plane.

He went back to his book, refusing to fixate on this bubbly stranger.

The next thing he knew, he was being tapped on the shoulder. “Hey! I’m back! And I know you said I didn’t have to get you anything, but I know a lot of people say stuff they don’t mean, so I got you a glazed donut, because I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t like those! Anyway, here you go! And don’t worry, I didn’t touch it or anything, because I know you’re worried about getting the virus and all that.” She handed him a glazed donut using a napkin.

Tentatively, he took it. “I—Poppy, you didn’t—you spent money on a donut for me?”

She nodded. “Yeah?”

“A complete stranger?”

“Yeah. Does it matter?”

“Most people don’t do that,” he told her, slowly, almost confused that he had to explain it.

“Well, more people should!” she said cheerfully. Then she pulled out her phone, dialed someone, and said, “Hi, Dad!”

Branch tuned her out as he pulled out his phone to check if there were any updates about the coronavirus, and bit into the donut she’d gotten him. Unfortunately, he couldn’t find anything, and bit his lip anxiously. What if he wasn’t able to go home?

Would he have to find a hotel room? How long would he have to stay there? He couldn’t afford to stay in a hotel for too long. Not to mention all the germs he’d pick up there. It would be so much better if he could just get home and practice safe social distancing.

But right now, the only thing he could do was count on the airline not to cancel the flight.

He didn’t like feeling so powerless.

The next thing he knew, Poppy was leaning on him, her arm clumsily thrown around his shoulders. “Look! This is my airplane buddy, Branch!” She was FaceTiming her father now, tilting her head against Branch’s shoulder to get both of them in the frame. “Branch, this is my dad!”

“Um . . .” Branch tried to wiggle out from under her grasp without looking rude. “Hi.”

“Hi!” said her dad merrily. “I’m sorry to hear your flight was delayed.”

“Uh, yeah, it’s too bad,” Branch said, still very uncomfortable. “I was just on my way home.”

“I hope you’re able to get there! Make sure to wash your hands and stay safe!”

“Yeah, I will.” He nodded.

“Oh, Poppy,” said Poppy’s father, and Poppy moved back over to her own seat. “I wanted to tell you that since you’ve left the house, I’m going to drive back home. I love you, but it’s your house and I don’t want you to bring back the virus.”

“Okay, Dad! You can take anything you need, like toilet paper.”

“Are you sure, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, of course! I’ll just go to the store when I get back. Make sure you stay safe!”

“And you too, Poppy. I have to go pack my suitcases, but I’ll let you know when I leave, okay?”

“Perfect! I love you, Dad!”

“I love you too, Poppy.”

From his peripheral vision, Branch saw Poppy enthusiastically waving as she hung up.

She turned to him and sighed, putting her phone away. “Welp, looks like we’re stuck on the plane together for a while. How’s your day been going?”

He sighed as well. “Not so great,” he mumbled.

“Aw, I’m sorry. Wanna talk about it?”

“Uh, nope.”

She looked a little surprised, as though the strangers she normally met on airplanes were ready to tell her their life stories. “Okay. I’ll just tell you about how my day went! You know, I was just on the phone with my dad, and he told me he was gonna leave my house. He was just helping me move in this past week! I get to live on my own now! Which might be a little boring if I have to self-quarantine, so I’m living it up and traveling until I can’t anymore. I know you said you’re going home, but why were you out here in the first place?”

Branch shot her a strange glance. At this point, he was less convinced that she wanted his personal information. He didn’t know what to make of her. “Um, I’m going home—or trying to—from school. It got canceled because of the virus, so . . .”

“Oh, that makes sense. Are you happy about that, or no? Some of my best friends are excited to get to go home for a while, but I know not everyone is.”

“Yeah, I’m not the biggest fan of the corona break,” he told her. “I’d rather be in my dorm than my hometown.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. You know, if this flight gets cancelled, you could come stay with me! It’d be perfect, because then I wouldn’t have to be lonely in my new house, and you’d have somewhere to stay! And we could be best friends!” She leaned over and gave him an enthusiastic hug.

“I typically don’t go off to live with strangers on the terms ‘we could be best friends,’” he said to her sarcastically.

“Aww, come on,” Poppy said, laughing a little at his remark. “But I’m just adorable!” She scrunched her nose at him, grinning.

“Seriously, who taught you about stranger danger? Because they did a horrible job.”

“Okay, I know about stranger danger,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But not everyone you meet is going to try and kidnap you, or whatever. It makes me much happier to see strangers as friends you haven’t met yet!”

“Well, regardless, it’s a little hasty to make plans before the flight is even canceled. For all we know, in a couple hours I’ll be at home and you’ll be on vacation, and we’ll never see each other again.”

“Yeah, that’s why we have to bond right now! Should I give you my phone number?”

“No thanks,” he told her, raising an eyebrow. He kind of doubted that there was anyone else that acted this way on the entire planet.

Over the PA, they heard the pilot’s voice again. “Passengers, this is your pilot. I’m very sorry to say that due to the rapid spread of COVID-19, this flight has been canceled. You will be able to retrieve your luggage at this airport’s baggage claim. We sincerely apologize for any inconvenience.”

Branch groaned as Poppy threw her arms in the air and said, “Aha! I knew it! I knew it would get canceled!”

“Why are you celebrating that? You can’t go on vacation now.”

“No, but I can hang out in my new house, all by myself!” She leaned down and put some of her crafts in her bag as Branch started searching for hotels on his phone.

“See, you don’t have anywhere to stay! Come stay with me!” she said.

He looked up at her. “Seriously?”

“Yeah! It’ll be fun! We can quarantine together!”

“I thought you didn’t want to quarantine.”

“Well, clearly this cheap vacation thing is not going to work out. And you need a place to stay! No, come on, it’ll be fun!”

“You already said that.”

She shot him a look. “Because it will be! I have a room for you and everything! And it’ll be free!”

“I—” Branch hesitated. It sounded like a good deal, but at what cost? “Poppy, I just met you.”

“Well, I’m not a psychopath or anything like that,” she said, sounding a little annoyed. “I mean, you ate that donut I gave you, and you’re not dying.”

Branch had a smart remark on the tip of his tongue, but then he noticed Poppy’s frustration. It seemed like she was more desperate for a roommate than he was for a place to say. His worries dissolved. Reluctantly, he said, “Okay . . . I guess I’ll come stay with you.”

A wide smile lit up her face. “Yay! Thank you!” She leaned over and hugged him for the third time, then jumped up from her seat. “Do you have anything in the overhead compartment?”
“Uh, no—”

“Perfect! Let’s go grab our suitcases!” She was already dragging him by the wrist.

Had accepting her offer been a mistake?

Well, it looked like Branch would find out.

Chapter Text

“My car’s right here,” Poppy said, motioning to a silver Honda a car or so down. She let go of her suitcases in the parking lot and took out her keys, unlocked it and opened the trunk. “Here, you can put your stuff in the back. I’ll clear out the passenger seat.”

“Um, okay, thanks,” Branch said, starting to load his luggage into her car. He still felt weird about this, like he was inconveniencing her by relying on her like this, and had to constantly remind himself of the reaction she’d had when he initially rejected her offer. “Want me to load up your stuff, too?”

“Oh, yes, thanks . . . okay, I think it’s all clean now. I’m gonna get in the car.”

“Got it,” he said, closing the trunk of her car before hopping into the passenger seat. “So, how far from here do you live?”

“Like, 20 minutes? I dunno. Here, lemme choose some music to make it go by faster.”

“You actually like—” Branch started, the car speakers blaring a bouncy beat, but then remembered she was going to be housing him for the next week, at least, and stopped talking.

“Hey, what’s wrong with pop music?” she said teasingly.

“Nothing, it’s just . . . really loud.” And obnoxious, he thought.

“Oh, sorry!” She turned it down. “Is that better?”

Branch just nodded, hoping he wouldn’t offend her any more. Not that she’d seemed offended before, but he figured it was best not to risk it.

Around 20 minutes later, they arrived at Poppy’s house, which was three stories—it had a basement and an upstairs—which surprised him. For their age group, it was uncommon to be able to afford this, especially right out of college.

“Ta-da!” Poppy said, jumping out of the car and making jazz hands at her house. “This is my new house!” She was grinning, and was obviously excited to show it off to someone new.

“It’s nice,” Branch said, offering a small smile at her excitement. “Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“Of course! Here, let’s get our suitcases.” She practically ran to the trunk of the car to get her things out.

When they got inside, Branch saw that it looked as nice on the inside as it did from the outside. He hadn’t been expecting this girl to be able to keep such a clean house. “Oh, it’s nice in here,” he commented.

“Thanks! Y’know, my dad just left like he said on the phone, so he probably did a little cleaning before he left.”

Oh.

“Let me show you around!” Poppy said. She led him up the stairs first, and motioned to the huge, double-doored bedroom at the top of the stairs. “That’s where I sleep, and—” She pointed at the smaller bedroom next to it—“You can sleep in there! Well, um . . .” She gazed at the two inflatable mattresses stacked on top of each other as she made her way in. “Those things aren’t always super comfortable. You wanna sleep in my bed?”

“Oh, no, no, I couldn’t do that,” he said. “I’ll sleep in here. It’s not a big deal. It’s probably not any worse than the hotel room I would’ve had otherwise, anyway.”

“I guess . . .” Poppy said, still looking dissatisfied. Suddenly, her face lit up. “Oh! I know! There’s a nice bed in the guest room that I forgot about! C’mon, it’s in the basement!”

Branch followed her down the stairs, wondering what he’d done to deserve this kind of treatment.

“Welp, I finished unpacking!” said Poppy as she walked into the living room, where Branch sat, checking the news once again. “So, what do you want to do now?”

“Um, I dunno. Maybe we should have dinner or something?”

“Oh, yeah! There’s this restaurant near here that serves breakfast food all day, and it’s not like McDonald’s or anything, it’s like actual good restaurant breakfast food! We should go there!”

“Have breakfast for dinner? Like waffles?”

“Yeah, and whipped cream!”

“You had a donut just over an hour ago, and now you want breakfast for dinner?”

She shot him a look and threw a pillow at him, making him drop his phone into his lap. “Okay, shut up. Breakfast for dinner is the best kind of dinner.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Well, I said they serve breakfast all day, not that you have to order breakfast food. C’mon, it’s a nice restaurant! You’ll like it!”

“Okay, well, regardless”—he threw the pillow back to her—“I’m not going out to dinner when we’re literally in the middle of a global pandemic. Eating something someone else had their hands all over? No thanks. And I’m not letting you go either.”

“But we’re both young and healthy! I mean, I assume you’re healthy. You don’t have diabetes or chronic health issues or anything?”

“No, I’m healthy. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to try and get the virus.”

She groaned, rolling her eyes. “But quarantining is so boring!”

“On the plane you said, ‘We can quarantine together! It’ll be fun!’”

“I changed my mind, okay? I’m not even stocked up.”

“Well then, go get stocked up so we can stay here and not end up in the hospital.”

She glared at him for a long moment, but her could see her considering it. Finally she said, “Fine! We’ll go to the grocery store together.”

“Together? Why not just one of us?”

“Because we only just met! I don’t know what snacks you like. So, come on.” She stood up, grabbed his right forearm, and tried to pull him up from the couch herself.

He chuckled a little at her shenanigans, getting up. “Okay, I guess so.”

“Yes! We’re here! Time to PANIC-BUY! Woo-hoo!” said Poppy when they parked in the grocery store parking lot, throwing her arms up and laughing.

“Um, no. No panic-buying.”

“Aww, why not?”

“Because that leaves none for the people who desperately need it. Just get as much as you think you need.”

She sighed, looking at him like he was sucking all the fun out of their grocery-shopping adventure. “Yeah, that makes sense. Okay, let’s go get some stuff we need!”

When they got inside, the difference between a grocery store usually and a grocery store in these trying times wasn’t immediately obvious. Upon a closer look, yes, not everything was stocked as fully as normal, but it wasn’t very eye-catching.

“Okay, what should we get first?” Poppy asked enthusiastically, walking alongside Branch as he pushed the cart.

“Well, I dunno. What’s on the list?”

“Oh, I didn’t make a list,” she said nonchalantly.

“Why?” he asked, trying not to sound too judgmental . . . but it sounded like he was failing.

“Well, I just thought we’d get a little of everything, so we won’t have to come back anytime soon!” she said defensively, then looked him up and down with about as much judgment as he’d treated her with. “And you’re, what, 25? Don’t act like you’re so much better at adulting than me.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, surprised by all the sass she was emitting. “Okay, I’m 26, and I would bet money that I’m better at adulting than you.”

She put a hand on her hip and raised one of her eyebrows as well. “Wow, okay. You’ve only known me a couple hours and you’re already willing to make bets. Judge books by their covers much?”

“I don’t need to know you for very long to know that—” He stopped talking when an old man and a teenage girl walked between them.

The old man stopped walking and turned around to look at them. “Oh, I remember when my wife and I used to banter like that.” A reminiscent, sad smile appeared on his face. “Have fun as a couple while you’re young. It doesn’t last for long.” With that, he turned and walked out the doors.

“Oh, no, we’re not—” Branch started.

“We’re not, uh, together—” Poppy said at the same time.

“Uh, sorry about that,” said the teenage girl he was with. “Grandma just died last month, and he’s still processing—Grandpa, remember to wash your hands before you touch your car!” She darted out the door.

Slowly, the two turned to look at each other again.

“So, what were we going to shop for first?” Poppy asked.

“Do we really need bagged kettle corn and microwavable kettle corn?” Branch suggested. “Why don’t you just put the bagged kettle corn back?”

Poppy dramatically dropped her jaw. “How dare you even suggest that! Bagged kettle corn is the best kind!”

Her shopping partner sighed. “Well, first of all, I definitely disagree with you, but second of all, why don’t we just put the microwave-popping kind back, then?”

“What? No! Then you won’t have the kind you like!”

“Believe me, it’s definitely not my first snack choice.”

She covered her ears and sang, “La, la, la,” then declared (while shaking her fist in the air), “We will buy all the types of snacks!”

“We really don’t need to do that—”

“Who knows what kind of cravings you’ll get in quarantine? Do you even understand how frustrating it is to not be able to have the snack that you want?”

“Given the fact that I’m not a pregnant woman, I think this’ll cover it,” he retorted sarcastically, motioning to their already-full cart. “We haven’t even gotten the necessities yet! All of this? Just carb-filled snacks!”

“Yeah, because they’re good!” she said. “I thought you didn’t want to leave the house after this shopping trip!”

“Yes, but a quick trip to the store doesn’t bother me, if it’s something we really need. We don’t need any of this stuff.”

She just clutched the bag of kettle corn to her chest and made a stubborn face, like a toddler. “I want my kettle corn.”

Branch gave an exasperated sigh, running his fingers through his hair. “Fine, have your kettle corn. But we’re going to get the necessities now, like milk and paper towels.”

“But I wanted tortilla chips!”

“No. You already have potato chips,” he said, pulling her out of the aisle before she could get the chips in their cart.

“God, you got a lot of stuff,” Branch muttered at the self-checkout.

Poppy scoffed as she scanned their fourth gallon of milk. “Like I came here by myself."

“Well, you basically did. You wouldn’t listen to anything I said.”

“That is not true. I didn’t even get my tortilla chips or bacon because of you.”

“Like they even had bacon. Did you see the meat section of the store? It was almost completely wiped out.”

“I could’ve checked it for bacon if you’d let me!”

“Maybe if you’d been willing to put something back, I would have.”

She patted him on the head condescendingly, which was strange, because he was taller than her. “Rest assured that I want everything I’m buying.”

“I mean, okay . . . at least we have soap. And toilet paper.”

“Do you really think I would go pre-quarantine shopping and not buy soap? Nope!” She smiled to herself. “See, I’m very smart.”

“Smart? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out you need soap. Just someone with common sense.”

“Hey, don’t trivia—trivializate—ahh!—trivialize my accomplishments! Yeah. Trivialize.”

Branch laughed a little and held up his hands as though he was surrendering. “Okay, I won’t!”

“Perfect!” she said, sticking her nose up dramatically.

“I would like to ask you to continue scanning everything you wanna buy, though, because I don’t want to be here all night.”

“Well, I guess I can do that for you,” she teased, and dutifully began to scan the different hand and bar soaps she was buying.

As he looked at what was already bagged, and what was in the cart, Branch realized that they might be inside for much longer than he’d initially thought.

Uh-oh.

Chapter Text

“Poppy, you can take two trips—”

“No!” insisted Poppy as she kicked open her own front door, which she apparently hadn’t locked when they’d left. (Branch made a mental note to talk to her about that.) “This is about”—she grunted under the pressure of all the bags on her arms—“pride!”

“Okay . . .” Branch said, watching as she stumbled in the direction of her kitchen. Holding the last four grocery bags, he turned around and locked the door behind him.

“Oof,” came a voice from the kitchen. Poppy was dramatically draped across one of the stools at her kitchen counter, red marks all over her arms from the weight of the plastic grocery bags. “Finally! I have been freed from the weight of the world!” she declared.

“It wouldn’t have been a crime to take a couple trips,” Branch reminded her as he set down the grocery bags he’d been carrying. “Where do you keep the—” He reached into a bag and pulled out a box of crackers. “The crackers?”

“In the pantry,” she said, pointing to a door off to the side of the kitchen that looked like it could be a closet. “Most of the stuff we bought goes in there. And clearly you’ve never gotten all the grocery bags in one trip. Clearly you haven’t experienced the sense of accomplishment that you get from it.”

“I also haven’t experienced red marks from plastic bags from my shoulders to my wrists.”

She rolled her eyes. “Quit exaggerating. It’s not that bad.”

“Have you seen the sorry state of your arms?”

“So maybe there are a couple red marks. Who cares? Now we get to relax inside!” Before Branch could point out that they were going to be “relaxing inside” for who-knows-how-long, her eyes lit up and she said, “Oh! We should have a movie night!”

“What?”

“We can watch a movie together before we go to bed! It’s perfect! We have SO MUCH popcorn!”

“And whose fault is that?”

She shot him an irritated look. “You have to admit it’d be fun. You can choose the movie!”

“Uh, no thanks. I’ll let you choose,” he said.

Grinning, she raised an eyebrow at him. “So . . . is that a yes to the movie night?”

Branch shrugged as he headed to the fridge to put away some yogurt. “It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

The two of them ended up watching a really strange kids’ movie. Branch had never even heard of it, and based on Poppy’s reactions, he assumed she hadn’t either. It had actually turned out to be pretty disturbing—there were really dark moments, the plotline was questionable, and the animation was downright terrifying. More than once, Poppy had said aloud, “I would turn it off, but I want to know what happens.”

Now, as Branch lay in his new bed in his new room, the events of the day really caught up with him. He’d gone home with a stranger for no other reason than his unwillingness to say no to a bubbly, pink-haired stranger. Right now, he was trying to fall asleep in a stranger’s basement. And he was there by his own free will.

Of course, it had also been a good idea in terms of health and cost—he could’ve stayed at a hotel until he found a flight that wouldn’t get canceled, but a hotel cost money, and he was a lot more likely to get sick staying there than at a house that only belonged to one person. But he’d be lying if he said he’d fully considered all that before he’d agreed on her plan.

Branch sighed and got out of bed. He couldn’t sleep anyway. Taking out his phone, he decided to see if the internet could help him fall asleep. Soon enough, he found an article.

"Exercise during the day, but not right before bed."

Too late for that.

"Practice deep breathing."

Well, he doubted it would help, but he wanted to preserve his sleep schedule, so . . .

But after five minutes of that, he didn’t feel any more relaxed—just fed up that he’d wasted five minutes doing nothing but breathing—and unlocked his phone to see what other ideas the website had to offer.

"Engage in calming, hands-on activities such as painting, drawing, or writing poetry."

Branch found himself searching through his suitcase for a blank journal he knew was somewhere in there. He didn’t have paints, and he wasn’t the best artist, but he wasn’t opposed to trying to write some poetry if it would help him sleep.

As it turned out, poetry was the perfect thing to help him relax, even if he’d run out of any source of inspiration. Setting his journal and pencil down on his nightstand, he went to fall asleep—

CLANG!

He bolted upright. What was Poppy doing upstairs?

“SORRY!” he heard her yell.

Branch got up and went upstairs as fast as he could. “Poppy, what happened?”

“Nothing!” she said. She was standing in the kitchen, her phone in her hand, a collection of pots and pans at her feet. The cabinet she was standing next to was wide open.

He threw a glance at the clock. 11:30. “Why are you still up?”

“Why not?”

A voice from her phone said, “Poppy, who are you talking to?”

Looking down at it, she cheerfully replied, “Oh, my new roommate! Let me introduce you guys!” She ran across the room to Branch, dragging some of the pots and pans across the floor too. Branch winced at the sound.

“Branch, this is Smidge, Cooper, Satin, Chenille, Suki, and Guy!” she said enthusiastically, pointing to all the people on her group video chat. “Guys, this is Branch! He’s my new quarantine buddy!”

They all waved friendly hellos, and he waved an awkward one back, Poppy’s arm around his shoulder. “Um, hi.”

Poppy kept talking. “We met on the airplane today! My vacation got canceled, but now I have a friend! Right, Branch?”

“Yeah, and your friend wants to sleep. I just came up here to make sure you weren’t dying or anything. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight!” she said, waving at him energetically as he headed back to the basement. “I’ll be quiet now!”

Branch managed one last smile at her before going back to bed.

Chapter Text

Branch ended up waking up at about 9:30 the next morning, which was a lot later than he’d wanted to wake up, but he knew the joke was on him for choosing not to set an alarm. Tomorrow, he promised himself, he’d wake up early to get his sleep schedule back on track. When this quarantine ended, he didn’t want to feel jet-lagged.

After getting dressed and ready for the day, he opened the door to the guest bedroom—

“AAAAHHHH!”

“Hi!” Poppy said, still smiling at him even after he’d screamed in her face. “Sorry if I scared you! But I made you breakfast! See?” She held out a tray with pancakes, syrup, whipped cream, strawberries, and bacon.

“Wow, you—” Branch put a hand on his chest, trying to calm himself down. “You made me all that? Why?”

“Well, I wanted to apologize for scaring you last night,” she said, and sheepishly added, “And just now.”

“Thank you, Poppy, but really, it’s fine. You didn’t have to do that.”

She shot him a look. “But I did, so are you gonna eat it or not?”

“Well, of course I’ll eat it, just—why did you bring it downstairs?”

“Because I wanted to surprise you!”

Branch didn’t point out that he would have been equally as surprised, minus a moment of terror, if she’d stayed upstairs, but instead nodded and thanked her, following her up the stairs.

When they got up there, he saw that there might’ve been another reason she had brought the food downstairs: the kitchen was a mess. As in, a huge mess. As in, a so-big-he-didn’t-even-know-how-she’d-done-it mess. “Whoa, Pop—” He cut himself off as he realized it probably wasn’t in his best interest to criticize the girl who was being so generous towards him. “Uh, thanks again for going to all this trouble for me.”

She set down his fanciful breakfast on the table, shooting him a look. “I know it’s messy, you dork. I can clean it up.” Then she turned her gaze on the mess, and a small frown appeared on her face. “Well, some of it.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, but just sat down to eat what she’d made for him.

A couple hours later, Branch was reading a book in bed when she knocked on his door. “Come in,” he called halfheartedly, setting the book down. He wasn’t really engaged with it anyway.

She swung the door open, clearly full of energy. “Hey, Branch! I’m bored! Can I do your hair?”

“Wh—why?” he asked, genuinely confused. He ran a hand through his thick black hair, as though to reassure himself it hadn’t grown down to his shoulder blades in the last few hours.

Her smile faltered. “Oh, right. Your hair’s kinda short.”

“Were you . . . expecting it to be longer?” They hadn’t known each other for long, but he figured it was probably long enough to expect her to know the general length of his hair.

She gave a sheepish smile and shrug. “My ex-boyfriend grows his hair out really long. He used to let me braid it when I was bored.”

“Oh . . .” Branch trailed off, not really knowing what else to say. “Well, there’s probably plenty of other stuff to do. Have you finished cleaning the kitchen?”

“Come on, Branch!” she groaned. “Cleaning the kitchen? I’ve been cleaning the kitchen all morning! I want something fun to do!”

“Geez, okay. Do you have any Post-It Notes?”

“Yeah, a lot! Why?”

“You could maybe use them on the windows. Spell out a message for people outside, or something.”

Her face lit up. “That’s a great idea! Thanks, Branch!” She nearly sprinted away, already excited to get started.

He picked up his book again, but somehow it now held even less appeal than it had before. He considered going upstairs and joining Poppy, but he knew reading was a much better, much more educational option than sticking Post-It Notes on windows.

“BRANCH!”

“AAAAHH!!”

“Say hi to my friends again!”

“Poppy, what is going on?”

“Well, they wanted to see you again! So I woke you up from your nap to talk to them!”

“But why?”

“So they could talk to you! Say hi!” She practically shoved the phone in his face.

He pushed it away. “Can I at least get out of bed first?”

“Yeah, I guess. I’ll meet you on the couch out there.” She pointed to the door, then left.

Branch sighed, his heart still racing from the shock of waking up like that. He kind of wished he could just lock the door and hide in there until Poppy’s friends hung up, but there were plenty of reasons that he couldn’t do that—besides, he should be thanking her for cutting his nap short, since he wanted to wake up early the next day. So he stood, tried to smooth out his rumpled appearance, and went to join her on the couch in the basement.

“See? Here he comes!” Poppy said, holding up the phone as though it was imperative her friends saw every step he took to get to the couch.

When he sat down next to her and she flipped the camera again, they all chorused, “Hi!” as cheerfully as though the word had come from Poppy’s mouth. Finding it a little strange how excited they seemed to be to see him, he gave an awkward wave back.

Poppy turned to him and said, “Tell them how we met yesterday!”

“Um . . .” He was sure she’d already told them in greater detail than he would ever care to achieve. Not thinking the story was very interesting, and knowing they’d already heard it from Poppy, he just said, “Well, we got put next to each other on the plane, the flight got cancelled, and now I’m staying with Poppy.”

Unsurprisingly, Poppy’s friends seemed unsatisfied with his cropped answer.

Poppy just laughed at him. “No, not like that! Tell it like an actual story!”

“What do you mean, ‘an actual story?’”

“Like . . .” She hesitated, clearly searching for the right way to describe it. “Tell it like . . . like if we had kids, and you’re telling them how we met. Yeah.” She nodded, seeming proud of the comparison.

Branch nearly had a coughing fit. “Why would you even say that?”

“Because that’s how I want you to tell them!” she argued, as though it was perfectly normal to pretend someone she’d just met was her baby daddy. “Like, my dad tells the best stories! Tell it like that!”

“I don’t even—” He sighed. Know your dad, he was going to say. But she didn’t seem to care. “Okay, fine. Once upon a time, yesterday, I was in an airport about to leave the state because I basically got kicked out of my dorm at school. And I got seated next to this . . .” He trailed off, looking at Poppy, wondering what word he could use to finish that sentence. “Um, creature . . ?”

She burst out laughing. “Why thank you, good sir,” she said, then swatted at his arm. “Now just finish the story!”

“And then the flight got delayed, and cancelled. And she saw me looking for hotel rooms, so she let me stay with her. We went to her house and then to the grocery store. The end.”

“I guess that was better,” she said, then poked his shoulder. “But you seriously need to work on your storytelling skills.”

Branch rolled his eyes and changed the subject. “Are you guys all at home, or did you decide to take vacations too?” He tried not to sound too condescending, regardless of how bad of an idea it was to take a vacation right now.

As though it’d been rehearsed, they all answered “Vacation!” in perfect synchrony.

He sighed, unable to help it. Didn’t they know anything about how to stay safe? At least Poppy was staying at home, even if it was only because her flight had been canceled.

“Oh, ooh! Tell him where you guys are!” Poppy said eagerly. Her friends must’ve been in some pretty exciting places.

Their responses all overlapped, but Branch was able to pick out “Paris,” “China,” and “Hawaii.”

“What? How did you even get to those places? Aren’t there travel bans?”

All of them fell silent, except one friend—had Poppy said her name was Smidge last night? He doubted it, but he could at least use it as a placeholder name—who said, “I know a guy.”
Smidge (??) said it with such sheer power that Branch was, honestly, slightly scared of challenging her. Whatever it was she’d done was definitely illegal, and the less he knew . . .

“Yeah, so now they get to travel the world at a low price!” Poppy said enthusiastically, the first one to break the silence. She didn’t seem at all fazed.

Her friends all cheered at this notion, while Branch just sighed. They were all going to get sick, get someone else sick, or both. He’d barely even noticed that they’d practically started a riot with all their cheering until Poppy nudged him.

“Cheer for our friends with me, Branch! Aren’t you excited that they’re gonna have the best vacations of their lives?”

Branch just stared at her. “Our friends? I don’t even know them! And they’re going to—they’re going to spread infection, not have the best vacations of their lives!” He hadn’t meant to come across so judgmental or angry, but . . . it was too late now. And really, they should know better.

Poppy, however, didn’t seem upset at him in the least. “Okay, first of all,” she said, rolling her eyes, “I have a feeling you all are going to become close friends very soon. And second of all, what do you want them to do? Get on another plane and come back home?”

Well, she had him there. He sighed again and said, “Okay, I’m going to go eat something. You guys keep on hanging out down here without me.” With that, he got up, trying to remind himself that at least he and Poppy were doing their part by staying inside.

Poppy had gotten the kitchen halfway to clean, he saw when he got to the top of the stairs. To anyone else, it might seem like she hadn’t cleaned at all, but she’d done a pretty good job considering how bad it’d been earlier. Ignoring the mess, he headed to the pantry to find something to eat.

Sighing at all the unhealthy snacks they’d gotten at the store the day before, he searched through boxes of crackers and cookies until he found a small container of nuts and dried cranberries. That would work.

Of course, he didn’t claim to be the healthiest person in the world, and on his worst days, healthy eating wasn’t exactly his top priority. But what else was there to focus on in quarantine? And, well . . . he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t something about Poppy that made him want to challenge her sweet tooth like this.

After getting himself a bowl, he headed to her living room and turned on the TV. Unsurprisingly, the first thing he saw was a news report about COVID-19.

Branch groaned, already stressed out, and turned the TV back off. It wasn’t like he’d had anything to watch in mind, anyway.

A second later, he heard the sound of Poppy’s loud laughter from the basement, and rolled his eyes. At least she was having fun.

Chapter Text

After the first week of living in Poppy’s house, Branch began to grow restless. He knew that quarantining was important, but he’d foolishly assumed that he’d be back to his hometown by now. Staying with Poppy wasn’t supposed to have lasted this long.

So now he supposed he’d have to resort to more creative ways to avoid boredom.

Nothing as extreme as what Poppy was currently doing, though.

“Y’know, Branch, during quarantine I’m going to get my life together,” she told him, with the energy of . . . well, he’d actually never seen anyone or anything as energetic as her. “I made myself the healthiest breakfast today, and look at me now! I am the queen of exercising!”

“Mm-hmm,” Branch murmured with a raised eyebrow, watching her tulle skirt bounce up and down as she jump-roped in the living room.

“Oh, come on, don’t give me that attitude! I’m going to be so healthy from now on!”

“You know you have an actual treadmill in the basement, right?”

“Obviously I know that,” she retorted, rolling her eyes. “I don’t know how to work it, though. And what do you have against jump-roping?”

Instead of answering, he just said, “Why are you wearing a dress that looks like it’s made for a five-year-old?”

“’Cause it’s fun!” she exclaimed, jumping even higher. How much caffeine had she had that morning?

“You don’t have exercise clothes?”

“Oh, maybe I do, somewhere.” She didn’t elaborate, and instead went back to jump-roping, turning herself around. Clearly, she didn’t want him criticizing her anymore.

Already bored (and feeling slightly guilty), Branch sighed and said, “I can help you set up your treadmill, if you want.”

She turned back around, continuing her jump-roping the whole time. “Really? Thanks!”

“So what’ve you tried to get it to turn on so far? Just so I know what doesn’t work,” Branch asked as they started down the stairs.

“Oh, I haven’t tried anything yet. It’s a waste of time if I spend my day figuring out how to turn it on.”

Branch stopped in his tracks, looking up at Poppy, who was a couple stairs higher than he was (and still using her jump rope). “You haven’t even tried yet? So then, why’d you tell me you don’t know how to use it? And cut it out with that thing. You’re gonna get hurt.”

Poppy rolled her eyes, but at least she stopped and set down the jump rope. “Because I don’t know how to use it. Just help me, would you?”

“Fine, whatever.” He continued down the stairs and had the treadmill set up for her three minutes later.

“Wow! You’re a genius!” she said when he turned away to go back upstairs, and nearly tackled him in a hug.

“Gross, Poppy,” he said, trying to shove her off of his back. “You’re all sweaty.”

He turned back just in time to see her roll her eyes. “That’s no reason to decline a hug from your best friend!”

“You’re not my . . . never mind. Have fun with your exercising. I’ll be upstairs.”

“Okay!” she said, as cheerful as ever, and practically skipped back to the treadmill.

An hour later, Branch had to admit that he was starting to worry about Poppy. She hadn’t come upstairs yet, not even for a glass of water, and he was concerned. It couldn’t be healthy for her to still be running, could it?

He pushed those thoughts out of his mind. She was probably just fine—after all, this was her house, this was her idea, and if she wanted to try and be healthy, great. He wasn’t any sort of health expert, and he couldn’t expect to control what she did with her body.

But yet another hour passed, and she still didn’t come upstairs.

At that point, Branch was worried she might’ve passed out. Maybe he should’ve trusted her a little bit more, but it was always better to be safe than sorry.

As he hurried down the stairs, he chastised himself for not checking on her earlier, when he’d first gotten the feeling that something was wrong. What if it was too late now? What would he do then?

“Oh, hey, Branch!”

“Poppy?” He had to look around for a minute to find her. She was no longer on the treadmill, or near the treadmill, for that matter—rather, she was sitting on the couch, watching TV and eating chocolate. “Um, what are you doing?”

“You know what, Branch?” she said. “Health is so overrated. Like, why would I waste my life exercising and eating disgusting food when I’m gonna die anyway?”

“Well, first of all, it could actually help you live longer—” Branch started, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He was upset with her—and with himself, for getting so worried. Obviously, she was fine.

She cut him off. “Mm. Yeah, but like, what does that even mean, anyway? Longer? Really, there’s no such thing as time. Someone just, y’know, made it up.”

Branch just stared at her and the pile of unopened chocolate bars and used wrappers she was sitting in. “Are you having an existential crisis because you tried to exercise?”

“Um . . . maybe?” She seemed unsure. “Whatever. I am just sitting here, enjoying life and chocolate! Oh, hey, wanna join me? We can watch something you’ll like!”

“No . . . no thanks. How’d you even get all this chocolate down here without going upstairs?”

“I did go upstairs,” she said, looking surprised. “You didn’t see me?”

“No, I didn’t . . .” He trailed off. Had he seriously not noticed Poppy coming upstairs? Had he been sitting there, so worried that she’d passed out that he hadn’t even seen her walking by?

“Oh, no!” she giggled. “Are you having an existential crisis now?” She leaned up and teasingly poked his arm.

“What? No.”

“Well, if you saaay so,” she singsonged, sitting back down. “Are you sure you don’t want to watch TV with me? C’mon, it’ll be so fun!”

“Um, no thanks. I’m just gonna . . . take a shower . . . I guess?”

“Cool. Well, I’ll be here if you need anything!”

Instead of taking a quick shower like he normally did, Branch stayed in there for a while. He didn’t really know what he was doing—it was all just a jumble of reading shampoo and conditioner bottles, washing hair, and so on, while time passed. He felt kind of empty—bored, maybe? Understimulated?—but what else could he do? Go watch TV with Poppy? It didn’t sound like a much better option.

After some more time, he heard knocking on the bathroom door. “Branch, you’re not dead, right?”

“Um . . . no, I’m alive. Why?”

“You’ve been in there for three hours. I don’t know why you’d rather be bored in the shower than in any other part of the house, but whatever, it’s up to you. Just wanted to make sure you were still alive. Bye!”

Three hours? Had it been three hours already? But then, to be honest, she could’ve told him he’d been in there for fifteen minutes, or for six hours, and he probably would’ve believed her.

Anyway, he should probably get out, he decided.

After he’d gotten dressed and combed his hair, he found that Poppy was no longer on the couch in the basement—but wherever she was, she hadn’t bothered to clean up her huge pile of chocolate wrappers. Branch sighed and gathered an armful of them, carrying them all the way up the stairs and trying not to drop any.

“Hey, Branch! You’re finally out of the shower! Wanna watch TV with me now?”

“What I want is for you to clean up your own messes next time,” he said as he passed by the back of the couch she was sitting on now, on his way to the kitchen’s trash can.

She turned around and saw what he was doing. “Thanks for cleaning those up! You know, I probably shouldn’t have eaten all of those.”

“Probably?” He stuffed them into the trash can. “How did you even get this much chocolate?”

“I dunno. Guess it just piled up over the years.”

“Over the years? How old was this stuff?”

“The oldest was probably from . . . six years ago, maybe?”

“Oh my . . .” Branch sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “How are you not vomiting?”

She shrugged. “Luck, I guess! So . . . wanna watch TV with me?”

“Not really . . .” he started, but then trailed off. He’d just spent three hours in the shower. Clearly he didn’t know how to entertain himself. Also, this was Poppy’s house and he assumed that she was the one who would have to pay the water bill. Watching TV with her was the least he could do.

“Actually, sure.” He sat down on the other side of the couch she was on, so he could see the screen better.

She just looked at him carefully for a moment—which, to be honest, kind of freaked him out—then giggled and shook her head. “No, this won’t do,” she said dramatically, scooching over until she was right next to him. “There. Much better! Now we can be all cozy together!”

But before she pressed play, she suddenly gasped. “Wait!” She got up, unfolded a fuzzy blanket, sat back down, and shared it with him. “And now we can be all cozy together!” She pressed play.

Branch couldn’t focus, a little uncomfortable with how close she was snuggling. Who did she think he was, her boyfriend?

Whatever “luck” Poppy had that kept her from getting sick after eating all those chocolate bars . . . well, it turned out to be temporary.

Only an hour later, she sat on the same couch, both hands resting on her stomach, groaning softly.

“Well, at least you’ve learned your lesson. No more expired chocolate, especially that much expired chocolate,” Branch said as he folded up the blanket from earlier and put it away.

“That doesn’t help, Branch. I am dying over here!” she declared dramatically, with so much energy that he might’ve doubted she was actually in pain if he hadn’t seen all the empty wrappers in the basement.

“No, you’re not.” He rolled his eyes—and then frowned. What if her symptoms were unrelated to her eating? “Actually, maybe we should try testing your blood oxygen levels.”

“Why? It’s just a stomachache,” she said (even though seconds earlier she’d insisted she was “dying”), flopping over so that she was lying on her belly.

“You don’t know that,” he said, growing more anxious by the second. What if Poppy—the stranger he’d decided to quarantine with—ended up with COVID-19?

Well, that would be just his luck.

“How fast do you think an oximeter could get here if I ordered one online?” Branch asked no one in particular, biting his lip. “Or would it be safer to go out and get one myself? I mean, it’d be faster, but if you do have the virus, then I might end up spreading it—”

“Branch, my dude, chill out,” Poppy said, shifting positions on the couch once again. “I don’t have coronavirus.”

“How can you know that? You were at the airport not too long ago—both of us were! Do you know how viruses spread? Airports!”

“I think that’s a generalization—”

“Obviously I know that, Poppy,” Branch said, worked up and pacing across the room, “but there’s still a lot of germs there! What if you do have COVID? You’ll be in the hospital all by yourself—I mean, unless your dad risks his life to come visit you—or if I stayed with you, because honestly, what else am I going to do, and—”

“Branch, calm down!” Poppy was now sitting upright, hugging a pillow to her stomach, and giving Branch an impressively stern look. “Neither of us are in the hospital!”

“But we might end up there!”

“Quit worrying and look on the bright side for once! By this time tomorrow I’ll be perfectly fine!”

Branch calmed down for long enough to raise an eyebrow at her. “So, what, the ‘power of looking on the bright side’ is going to miraculously cure you?”

“Well, like they say, fact until proven fiction,” she said haughtily, holding her chin up high, and Branch wasn’t sure whether he should be frustrated or amused.

Giving a dry chuckle, he said, “Yeah, I’m ordering an oximeter,” already taking out his phone.

Poppy rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Okay, but move out of the way. I can’t watch TV if you’re gonna block the screen.”

By the time the oximeter (and whatever other junk that Poppy had ordered out of boredom) arrived, Branch was no longer concerned that Poppy had a deadly virus. But he was still a little worried about her health.

It turned out that her idea of entertaining herself while in quarantine was maintaining a routine. Which, when it was put that way, sounded fine—healthy, even. But—in Branch’s eyes, at least—the routine itself was not fine.

Every day, she would wake up at 1:30 PM-ish and get on the treadmill for an hour or so before she’d even eaten breakfast. Then she’d spend another hour in the shower, and when she got out, she would make herself a meal fit for a king. That one meal served as all the food she needed, since it was big enough for her to snack on it all day while she did other things (which ranged from binge-watching Netflix to doing hours of work). And even though Branch wasn’t on the same sleep schedule that she was, he figured she must’ve been staying up late if she was waking up in the afternoon.

But the thing about her lifestyle that surprised him the most was that through all of her unhealthy habits, she managed to stay productive and, well, happy.

That had to be rare. Branch wasn’t a major in psychology or anything like that, but he was pretty sure that wasn’t how people were supposed to function.

As for himself, he didn’t claim to have the healthiest coping mechanisms, but at least his life wasn’t as chaotic as Poppy’s. He was bored most of the time, yes, but he was doing the best he could to slow the spread of the pandemic. And anyways, it wasn’t like he was doing any worse than he had been back in school.

“Poppy, your . . . stuff . . . is here,” Branch called as he picked up the packages and brought them inside.

Poppy gasped from inside the house. “EVEN MY MICKEY MOUSE WALL CLOCK?”

“Um . . . I dunno. You can come see for yourself.”

She sprinted to the front door, her socks sliding on the hardwood floors. “Do you have any scissors?”

“Yeah, you—” Branch started, but before he could finish—"yeah, you can have them when I’m done"—she’d grabbed them out of his hands and was already opening one of the many packages. Branch sighed.

“Oh, that’s for you, I think,” she said after opening the first one, and shoved the box with the oximeter in it into his hands.

Now a little less annoyed that she’d taken the scissors from him, he murmured a thank-you and went to learn how to use the oximeter. He didn’t get far before Poppy gave an ear-splitting shriek.

“Whoa, Poppy, what happened? Are you okay?”

“Yes! I’m so excited! My dinosaur race track came in the mail!”

“Your what?”

“My dinosaur race track! I only ordered it a couple nights ago, and now it’s here?”

“Okay . . . but why in the world did you order a ‘dinosaur race track’? What is a ‘dinosaur race track’?”

“It’s a race track for those little toy race cars made of plastic dinosaurs, obviously! It’s gonna be so much fun! Plus, it was on sale!”

“I . . .” Branch didn’t know what to say. He’d never met anyone that was even remotely like Poppy. “I mean, okay.” Although he was now curious about what had arrived in the other boxes, he left her alone to do her own thing while he did his.

Which, so far, was a pretty accurate description of how they were living their lives.

Little did they know, that distance between them wouldn’t last for much longer.