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When they get together, it’s almost like being kids again.
Now things are different. Muscles are more sensitive and John Dory can’t throw any of them like a football again, but they joke like they used to and they delight in catching up, finding new things to talk about, or use for future blackmail. One morning they sit around Branch’s bunker, looking over things Poppy had made him in all the years she’d known him. They tease him relentlessly about her, though they all really adore her. He spends the morning putting things back in their place after they move on to the next thing. Branch flops back down in the circle as they’re finishing up a conversation about Floyd’s changed hair color. Now that they all are sitting close together, the starkness of Branch’s hair begs the question.
Clay reaches out, combing some of the frizzy hairs into waves.
“It’s a dope dark color. I wonder where you get that from,” he muses. They could practically see the punnet squares floating around his head.
Floyd shrugs, taking a sip of his tea. “Who says it’s natural? I think I know a hair job when I see one. It’s nice, Branch. Kinda edgy. I like it.”
Though he likes the praise from his brothers, Branch can’t help but grimace, smoothing his hair back into place. He reaches for his own tea.
“Actually, Clay is kind of right. It’s one hundred percent natural.” He takes a sip. “Ever since I lost my colors, and then got them back, they kind of fluctuate. My hair hasn’t been super blue in a while.”
Three of Branch’s brothers freeze at this information.
“ When… you lost your colors?” Bruce treads. “I’m going to need some more information.” John Dory’s face breaks into a smile.
“Yeah he did! In the rockpocalypse!” He throws a rockstar hand up. “Totally sweet, Branch. You must’ve been so scared.”
Branch deadpans John Dory. “No I was not scared, at most it was a minor inconvenience.” He takes another sip of his tea. His mood sours like the lemon floating in the teacup. “I’m talking about my time with Grandma. And after. Blue doesn’t even look right on me anyway.”
The room goes quiet like it always does when she’s mentioned. The reality of how much time Branch actually spent gray washes over the others in varying ways. Branch’s eyes bounce between all of them. “Look it’s not a big deal, okay? You guys are here now and that’s great. Don’t go blowing it up into something that it isn’t anymore.”
“Branch I’m sorry,” Bruce says. The words tumble out of him. He has to say something. Moments with Branch pouring his heart out are rare, and Bruce is suddenly filled with the fear that if Branch can’t have room to express himself, he might go gray again. But Branch again brushes it off.
“It’s okay,” his gaze softens though and he looks at Bruce with a hint of sincerity and appreciation. “Thank you.”
It’s not okay though, at least to Bruce.
They all say goodbye after breakfast with promises to get together soon. There’s never any worry they won’t keep the promise; all brothers realize that what they have is beautiful and they never entertain the idea of forgetting each other again. “Goodbye” just means “see you next time.”
Bruce however has returned to Vacay island with a funny feeling in his stomach and a need to prepare something for that next time. He doesn’t like the way Branch had been so nonchalant about his entire childhood. Those things had made him the way he is. And Bruce wholly loved him, muted pigment and all, but he can’t help but speculate about what it actually took for him to get there. What kind of troll he would have been if he had simply gotten to grow up in a healthy environment.
But he hadn't. He’d grown up alone.
Bruce had subjected himself to some mind numbing work, folding napkins to prepare to be placed. He is snapped out of his stupor when a crash echoes down the hall from the kitchen. It sounds like glass hitting the floor, a thunderous thump proceeding it. None of these sounds compares to the one that follows. The deafening screech of one of his kids.
Bruce is already racing down the hall when another one yells out, “Daddy! Daddy, help!”
He slides across the tiles and skids to a stop as he turns the corner where the fridge is. Well, was. Now it is on its side,the bottles of soda that were resting on top are now in pieces, the sticky liquid quickly spreading across the entire floor. One of his sons, Barri, is standing off to the side, like he doesn’t know whether to approach or flee the scene. And there, sat in the middle, clutching his leg and sobbing is one of the other sons, Jute. Bruce’s heart feels like it’s dropped and lodged in his throat at the same time. His legs feel like jello as he scampers over, parkouring his way through the spilled soda and broken glass. He lands in Jute’s lap, who scoops him up and sobs harder.
“I’m sorry, Daddy, I’m sorry. I just wanted a drink!”
“Shhh. I know you are,” Bruce assures him, rubbing his belly. Some of the fear subsides from him, relieved at the lack of casualties. His head snaps to the side and he matches glances with Barri.
“Go get your mother.”
Barri races off as quick as a flash. Funny how they listen the first time when things get this dire.
Bruce turns back to the child at hand. His leg is bleeding and it looks like he may have twisted it, but he sees no shards of glass sticking out of him so he sighs in relief. He gives him a send off pat as he looks into his eyes.
“I’m going to go find some bandages and a dustpan. Can you sit still for me until I get back?”
Even though all his kids are young, he is surprised when he furiously shakes his head and pulls him to his chest.
“No! Don’t leave me please don’t go!”
Bruce wriggles just a bit to make sure he can still get some air, but he spreads his arms across him and hugs him the best he can. He scratches at his blue fur gently.
“Okay, baby, okay I’m not going anywhere…”
The words drift away from him. His eyebrows knit together as he pulls his hand away revealing a thick red liquid dripping through his fingers.
“What…” he says weakly before he looks up and sucks in a breath. There he is. His baby brother Branch is looking down at him, tears filling his eyes.
“Don’t leave me!”
Suddenly Bruce stumbles backwards, falling on his butt. All of the glass and juice shakes on the ground before him. He looks up again, a slight tremor to his body. Brandy is here. She’s holding Jute, who appears calmer now, but they are both looking at him with concern.
“Honey,” she sounds slightly exasperated as if she had been calling his name for a while. “Are you alright? It’s okay, it’s just soda.” She nuzzles Jute a little before reaching a hand out for her husband.
Bruce swallows, reaching for her fingers. He lets himself get swooped up in her arm but his gaze falls to the mess on the floor searching for his baby brother's face in the reflection. But Branch is gone.
“Someone has to clean this up,” he breathes as Brandy walks. “And clean out the fridge. We need weights on the back. Better yet, we could just mount it to the wall…”
“Woah, woahhhhhhhh, slow down. I’ll make sure it’s on the to-do list. But you need to take a deep breath. I want you to…” she says, lowering him to a table. “Forget about things for a little. Go sell some smoothies for me, okay? And bring back a few weird customer stories? Can you do that?”
Bruce nods. He can feel his heart rate lowering. He looks to Jute for signs of distress, but he seems happy in the comfort of his mother. Bruce steps backwards.
“Yeah….yeah, I’ll do that,” he says, slowly warming up to the idea. “I’ll, uh, come back to you with a juicy one.”
Brandy smiles. “I love you.”
A nervous smile sprouts on his face. He gives her two non-committal thumbs up.
XxXxXxXx
Bruce tried to keep moving, but the vacationers were calm and strangely non-confrontational today. He often found himself in a lull, watching families go by. The guilt hit him whenever someone would appear with their child. Bruce climbs his way to the top of the table, dragging a dish rag with him when he sees a purple vacationer comfort a tiny blue one.
“We’re staying right here until we work this out. Come on, baby.”
Bruce frowns. He could very clearly remember being in the same scenario hundreds of times. And he remembers all the successful ones. Even the non-successful ones he could always get them to come around.
His mind drifts back to before he learned that skill, back to when he was a kid. When he was not so great of a mediator. He can remember leaving the room, yelling at John Dory and sometimes even Clay. Fists rarely flied, but brothers were often pushed and the doors were often slammed. He tried his best.
And then he’s thinking about Bitty B. Branch. Who never created a problem other than being a kid. He can’t help but think about what would’ve happened if he brought him with him. He couldn’t protect him there but it could’ve been different on Vacay island. Yes he still would have been his responsibility but it was very much a Village mentality here. They would’ve been fine.
And if he could’ve helped it, Branch would never have lost his colors.
A rock sinks in Bruce’s gut just as a vacationer slaps down a half drunken Mojito on the bar. He wipes his face, gives Bruce a tipsy grin as he saunters down towards the beach. Bruce watches him go but then his eyes lilt back to the drink that is still sweating, The crushed ice still sloshing around in there. Bruce takes a quick look around before nonchalantly waltzing over to it, whistling a tune. He puts both hands around the glass like he is about to lift it onto his shoulders but instead he scales the glass, launching himself over the side and into the drink. He lands with a splash, draining it in minutes. He finishes with a satisfied smack and scales the glass again, flopping onto the table on his back. He revels in the way his vision swims a little, acknowledging it with a quiet giggle. The rock in his gut now feels like it’s floating, thoughts of Branch flowing with it. He lets his head lull to the side, his eyes catching another unattended drink.
Oh yeah. This shift would be a piece of cake.
XxXxXxXx
By the time the restaurant was closing, every patron was more than satisfied, including Bruce. Yes the last couple of tabs had him swaying on his feet, smiling dumbly as he awaited customers orders, but this seemed to appease them. If the workers themselves were relaxed this truly must’ve been a magical place.
After swiping a customers card with a forceful push, he bids them goodnight with a beaming smile. His face feels flush and now that the night has quieted, Bruce is hit with a wave of loneliness. He shakes it off and stumbles in the direction of the back rooms in search of Brandy.
Much to his delight, all the children seem to have been tucked in for the night. He checks on every one of them, giving them a kiss and a quick snuggle. Other than the occasional giggle all the children remain blissfully asleep. He smiles fondly at all of them until he reaches Jute.
Jute is asleep, his leg compressed in a bandage and propped up on a pillow. The lightest crease folds his brow, making him look more pitiful than peaceful. Bruce pads a thumb over his forehead slowly, smoothing out the crease. Jute sighs and curls his fingers around Bruce’s arm.
Despite the way his chest swells in love and his still drunken state, The rock in his gut seems to return full force. Once again as he looks upon his son‘s face, he sees traces of Branch. Branch who he had abandoned. Jute, who he had decidedly not abandoned, but he was hurt on his watch anyway. Even though he's bigger than him, he looks tiny in his bed. Bruce backs away slowly, a guilty feeling clouding the dizziness in his body. He wanders into the hallway, picking up a little speed.
His tiny heart pounds in his chest as he stumbles around for the fire pit. He can hear the crackling of a fire getting started. His hand goes to his heart.
“Brandy. Brandy where are you I…”
His breath catches in his throat at the sight of his wife tending the embers of a fire. Her hair is pulled up in a bandanna, save for a few locs framing her face. She wears the golden dress she knows he likes. She smiles down at her husband,waving him over adoringly.
“C’mere, honeydew. I wanna talk to you.”
Bruce stumbles forward, wrapping himself around one of her ankles. He plants drunk kisses against her leg.
“Brandy. Oh Brandy, I love you so much.”
Brandy pries him off her leg with a gentle grip, lifting him to her face. He places kisses there, sweet and passionate. She smells like flowers and sunscreen. He can’t get enough of her. Brandy smiles at him, but there is a sad look in her eyes.
“How much did you have to drink today?” She inquires. Bruce lets go of her face to count his fingers even though the numbers are lost on him.
“Couldn’t tell you, my lady love,” he hiccups, reaching for her face again. “All I can say is I feel amazing, you’re amazing, this place is amazing—“
“You know, it’s okay to be scared sometimes, yeah? It’s okay to cry.”
Bruce stops rambling, licking his lips. He heaves a few ragged breaths before clearing his throat. “What?”
“It’s okay,” Brandy repeats in a soothing tone. “What happened today with Jute was scary. But it was just an accident. And it could have been worse, but it was not your fault.”
Bruce looks at Brandy, suddenly feeling very vulnerable now. “No, I know. It was just an accident.” His throat feels tight now though with the admission. He wipes his hand across his misty eyes. “Yeah I know.”
Brandy bites her lip. She leans forward to kiss his hair. “What’s going on, baby? What do you want?”
Bruce steels himself, his gaze zig zagging through her eyes. She’s absolutely gorgeous. “That’s what I want,” he says dreamily. “A baby, let’s make a baby, Brandy.”
Brandy pulls back a little, confused. “Come again?”
Bruce’s eyebrows crease in a plea. ”A baby, c’mon give me a little trolling honey. Knock me up. A baby.”
Brandy gives a little disbelieving laugh. “What’s gotten into-“
“Please, please I need this,” he begs, his voice cracking a little at the end. “Please, Brandy, we can hold it and nothing bad will ever happen again, I swear.” His voice is just a hoarse whisper now, tears falling down his face. He’s shaking now and Brandy, the blessed angel that she is, waits patiently while he gathers his thoughts. She pets his hair back in a soothing manner while he cries.
“What do you mean, hun?”
A sob escapes Bruce as he crumples against his wife. “My baby,” he wails. “My baby brother, oh no oh no oh no…”
Brandy shushes him, lowering them both onto the ground by the fire. She combs his hair and rubs his back soothingly while Bruce tries to sort himself out. The drinks make it harder to do so, but he sifts through his feelings, visions of his brothers like they were kids again. John Dory leaving the pod. And himself, following in his older brother's footsteps. He can’t even remember how the other boys' faces looked. That’s what they were. Just boys.
“I just left him there,” he weeps. His head is starting to hurt. “He stayed-of course he stayed he was a baby! Someone was supposed to go back. I thought everyone would be fine.”
He looks up at Brandy, her hand in his hair. She’s searching his eyes for something, but he doesn’t know what. He shudders a sigh, pressing his cheek to her palm.
“I left him,” he whispers. Brandy shushes him, kissing his head.
“He’s okay, Bruce. He’s had a hard life, but so have you. You all were under a tremendous amount of pressure.”
“And I left him,” Bruce squeaks.
“You left with no more to give. I’m sure you would have stayed if you could, but you were not meant to parent any one of them, let alone yourself. You should know that.”
Bruce’s eyes fall to the ground, so Brandy puts him on the counter. She squishes his face, kissing him intently. He tips toward her, feeling the love battle against his sorrow.
“You were a kid,” Brandy insists. “Just a boy, with dreams and passions and needs. You needed someone to see you.”
Bruce looks at Brandy, swallowing back his sobs. He sniffles thickly, scratching his face.
“Do you think the kids feel like I see them?”
She pads at his face with her hand, soothing the irritated skin. She puts her face right up to the counter so they are eye level.
“I think you’re the best father in the world.”
This earns her a relieved laugh from him and another kiss to the fingers. He smiles a little more at ease and she finally sees traces of the old Bruce that she hadn’t seen all day.
“Do ‘ythink,” he mumbles sleepily, suddenly horribly worn out. “I could hop by Branch’s place tomorrow? I think we need to talk some things out.”
Brandy scoops Bruce up again, walking their way back to their room. She gently deposits him onto the pillow beside her and pulls the covers up over him, moving back to stroke his hair.
“You’ll have a mean hangover,” she warns. “But I think that’s a great idea. Honey, he loves you. Anyone would be lucky to have you around.”
Bruce’s eyelids sag, his thoughts going to his kids. “Y’mean that?”
She tilts her head to the side. “With my whole heart.”
She doesn’t know if the words actually reach him as he falls asleep, but she watches him carefully, making sure he actually relaxes. Bruce snuggles close to her face, dreaming of his entire family. He holds hands with both dream-Brandy and dream-Branch, determined to keep the relationships intact. His heart swells with love for his wife.
And if she noticed his blue hue slightly warm up, she didn’t mention it.