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Chapter Text

The soft electronic sounds of blipping lasers and exploding pixelated mushrooms echoed through Branch’s headset.

He narrowed his eyes, thumbs flying over his controller as he clung desperately to his last sliver of virtual health. “Cover me, Coop!”

“I gotchu, bro!” came Cooper’s instantly-too-cheerful reply.

“Not me, him,” Branch gritted out, ducking behind a glowing crate.

Across the screen, Darnell’s character danced in circles. “I’m providing moral support,” Darnell offered. “Which is underrated, honestly.”

Branch was about to suggest where Darnell could shove his moral support when the game ended with a heroic trumpet sound and the words YOU DIED flashing across Branch’s screen.

“Wow,” Cooper said, “that’s, like… your fifth ‘you died’ in a row.”
Darnell snickered. “Sixth. I’m keeping score. It’s part of my coping strategy.”

Branch yanked off his headset and flopped back on the couch, grumbling “I told you both I suck at these co-op updates. Everything moves too fast and I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Just like your love life,” Darnell chimed.

Branch froze. “…Excuse me?”

Cooper and Darnell exchanged a look, then turned back to the screen in perfect twin stereo.

“Bro,” said Cooper.

“Bro,” echoed Darnell.

“It’s time,” they said together.

Branch blinked. “Time for what? A therapy session?”

“No,” Darnell said patiently, taking out his phone.

“Yes,” Cooper said at the same time, pulling out his phone. 

They both turned their screens to show the same app icon: a glittering pink heart with sparkles.
The name underneath read: Twinkle.

“…No,” Branch said flatly.

“YES,” they said in unison.

“I’m not downloading some glitter-splattered thirst trap where people pretend to like hiking and talk about astrology like it’s a survival skill,” Branch grumbled.

“It’s not just for thirsty trolls,” Cooper insisted.

“Although—bonus,” added Darnell with a wink. “Thirsty trolls are adorable.”

Branch groaned. “Nope. I’ve managed to avoid this kind of cringe for years. I’m not starting now just because you two are bored.”

“Dude, we love you, but you’re basically emotionally constipated,” Darnell said. “Let the app help you poop your feelings.”

Branch stared at him.

“What he means,” Cooper said gently, “is that you’re lonely. And you deserve a little Twinkle in your life.”

“I have a little twinkle,” Branch deadpanned. “It’s the light in my soul that flickers every time someone says ‘mood’ unironically.”

“…Too late. Already made you a profile,” Darnell said cheerfully.

“We picked your best photo,” Cooper added, flipping the screen around. “Behold: a moody, vaguely threatening picture of an actual tree branch.”

“Symbolic and anonymous,” Darnell added. “Honestly? It’s art.”

Branch lunged for his phone. “You what?!”

“Just look,” Darnell said, holding it out of reach. “We even wrote your bio: ‘Likes quiet. Was peer pressured into this. Probably allergic to small talk. Please don’t say ‘vibe check.’’

“…Okay,” Branch muttered after a beat. “That’s actually not bad.”

“There he is,” Cooper grinned. “We’ll leave the rest to you. Just scroll a little. Tap a few hearts. You might surprise yourself.”

Branch grumbled under his breath, but the app was already open in his hand.

Twinkle.

He sighed. This was going to be a disaster.

—

The moment Poppy mentioned she was “maybe considering trying dating again,” she should have known she’d created a monster.

Four monsters, technically.

“Bio!” chirped Satin, already pulling up her phone’s notes app. “We need to start with something flirty, fun, but also deep.”

“NO,” Chenille said dramatically, “start with something mysterious. Like ‘I’ll tell you my favorite color… if you earn it.’”

“I like that,” Guy Diamond said, polishing his own reflection in Poppy’s spoon. “But add sparkle. Always sparkle.”

“I already swiped right on five people for you,” Smidge announced proudly, holding up Poppy’s phone. “I felt like you would’ve done it in your heart.”

Poppy blinked. “Smidge. I haven’t even made a profile yet—”

“Correction,” said Chenille. “You hadn’t made one. We have.”

Poppy sighed—but she was smiling. For the first time in a long time, it felt… okay. Not scary. Not impossible. Creek was officially in the past. She had glitter in her hair, true friends at her side, and a whole future of sparkly nonsense to look forward to. Why not try?

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s make me undateably adorable.”

Username: @SunshinyVibes

“No faces,” Chenille reminded. “You’re iconic. Anyone from the village would know you instantly.”

Guy Diamond hummed thoughtfully. “Let’s go vibes only. Sparkle-core, but mysterious.”

Then Smidge gasped. “Wait—what about that picture from the bake sale? The cupcake one!”

They all huddled around Smidge’s screen.

It was a close-up shot: Poppy’s glitter-covered hands delicately holding a frosted cupcake topped with a tiny edible flower. Her bracelets jangled in the corner of the frame, and there was frosting smudged on her thumb. Her signature pink hair was just barely visible — cropped out above the smile.

“STOP,” Satin squealed. “That is art.”

“Warm, whimsical, and completely untraceable,” Chenille approved.

“She’s just like that cupcake,” Guy Diamond sniffled. “Too beautiful for this world.”

“I added a sparkle overlay,” Smidge announced, “and tiny animated hearts that pulse when someone taps it.”

Poppy stared at her phone, somewhere between impressed and mildly concerned. “This profile might be a health hazard.”

“Exactly,” Satin grinned. “Now… let’s write your bio.”

“Lover of sunshine, sparkles, and surprise karaoke. I will 100% cry over a good muffin. Let’s dance like nobody’s watching, sing like it’s a Disney finale, and text like we’re in a fanfic. Bonus points if you like puns, pancakes, or plants that have names.”

Poppy gave it a final read, heart fluttering in a way that felt more hopeful than scary.

Twinkle Profile: complete.

Now all that was left… was to swipe.

—

The app was worse than he expected.

Twinkle greeted him with a burst of sparkles and a cheery chime that made him want to hurl his phone into a volcano. Still, he dutifully scrolled, already regretting letting Cooper and Darnell bully him into this mess.

First profile: “Heyyyy 💖💖💖 I’m a Free Spirit!!! Let’s do yoga on the roof and talk about our star charts 🌌✨🌸”

Branch grimaced. “Hard pass. I don’t even like yoga on the floor.” Swipe left.

Second profile: A selfie of someone winking with duck lips. Bio: “If you don’t like glitter, don’t bother.”

Branch muttered, “I don’t. Not even a little.” Swipe left.

Third profile: “Looking for someone who’ll send me money to support my pottery side hustle 🏺 Venmo in bio!!”

Branch blinked. “…What.” Swipe left with prejudice.

He was about ready to delete the app altogether when another profile loaded onto the screen.

Glittery hands. A cupcake crowned with a flower. And a bio that was… ridiculous. Sweet. Way too much.

But it made him pause.

—

“This is FUN!” Poppy announced, kicking her legs as she swiped on Twinkle for the very first time. Satin and Chenille flanked her on either side like judgmental angels, Smidge perched on the back of the couch, and Guy Diamond sparkled from the armchair.

First profile: A shirtless troll flexing. Bio: “Looking for my swole-mate.”

Poppy giggled nervously. “Um… that feels like a lot of pressure.” Swipe left.

Second profile: A blurry photo of someone’s breakfast sandwich. Bio: “Not here for small talk, only eggs.”

“Wait, that’s kind of iconic,” she admitted. Still swipe left.

Third profile: “Glitter is life. Party is oxygen. If you can’t rave, don’t cave.”

“Oh my gosh,” she said, clutching her chest. “That’s literally Guy Diamond but worse.”

“Rude,” Guy sniffed. “Also swipe left.”

She was starting to worry maybe Twinkle wasn’t her scene—until a new profile appeared.

Moody photo. A tree branch against a cloudy sky. And a bio that said: “Likes quiet. Was peer pressured into this. Probably allergic to small talk. Please don’t say ‘vibe check.’”

It was so blunt, so grumpy, so unlike anyone else she’d seen… she couldn’t help but grin.

—

And that’s where their paths finally line up, phones in hand, hovering over the same glowing little heart.

Chapter Text

Branch wasn’t expecting to get a match. He definitely wasn’t expecting a notification.

His phone buzzed, cheerful Twinkle chime cutting through the quiet of his living room. He stared at the screen.

1 New Message — @SunshinyVibes

Branch narrowed his eyes. “Sunshiny… what?”

He clicked.

@SunshinyVibes: “Important question: would you rather fight one horse-sized spider, or one hundred spider-sized horses? 🐴🕷️”

Branch blinked. Then blinked again.

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever—” he muttered aloud, phone dangling in his hand. He hovered over the unmatch button. His thumb itched to press it.

But instead, he reread the message. Once. Twice.

And… against his will… a tiny, strangled laugh escaped him.

He pressed his palm against his mouth like he could shove it back inside. Too late.

—

@LowBattery: “…What is wrong with you.”

Poppy gasped, clutching her phone as her friends leaned in. “He answered!!”

“What’d he say?”

“Was it flirty??”

She showed them the screen. They groaned in unison.

Smidge: “That’s… blunt.”

Chenille: “Blunt can be hot.”

Satin: “Or terrible.”

Guy Diamond: “Glitter test: does he sparkle in spirit?”

Poppy giggled and typed back without hesitation.

@SunshinyVibes: “Wrong answer. The correct choice is tiny horses. You could keep one as a pet! 🐎💖”

—

Poppy squealed and kicked her legs. “He replied again!!”

Her friends leaned over her shoulders, chattering, but Poppy’s eyes stayed on the screen, heart racing with something that felt dangerously like… hope.

And just like that, the conversation had begun.

@LowBattery: “…Or you could get trampled to death. By 100 hooves.”

@SunshinyVibes: “Worth it. Imagine the tiny saddles 😍🐎”

@LowBattery: “…You’ve clearly thought about this way too much.”

@SunshinyVibes:
“Maybe. Or maybe I just like silly questions because they’re more fun than ‘so what do you do for work?’ 🙄”

Branch sat back on his couch, frowning at the screen. He hated small talk. Hated the way most conversations felt like checklists: job, hobbies, family, weather. Boring. Predictable. Safe.

And somehow, this stranger with glitter emojis in her username had cut right through it.

@LowBattery: “…Fair. Small talk is the worst.”

@SunshinyVibes: “Finally, common ground! 🙌 You + me vs. boring questions forever?”

He exhaled through his nose. He should log off. He should not be grinning.

@LowBattery: “Maybe.”

@SunshinyVibes: “Okay then! Next silly question: if you had to live in ONE place forever — a library, a bakery, or a treehouse — which do you pick?”

@LowBattery: “…Treehouse. Quiet. Isolated. Good view.”

@SunshinyVibes: “Ooooh, mysterious. I was gonna say bakery, but you sold me on treehouse. Can we at least stock it with muffins?”

@LowBattery: “…Depends what kind.”

@SunshinyVibes: “Blueberry. The superior muffin. Fight me.”

@LowBattery: “…Acceptable.” (Pauses, then adds) “Chocolate chip is better, though.”

@SunshinyVibes: “Bold claim. You’re wrong, but bold. I respect it.”

By the time the clock ticked past midnight, Branch realized he’d been staring at the little typing bubble for hours.

He never did this. He didn’t stay up. He didn’t chatter. He didn’t laugh — especially not with strangers.

But now?

@SunshinyVibes: “Last one before bed: what’s the most peaceful thing you’ve ever done?”

Branch froze. That wasn’t silly. That was… real.

His thumbs hovered. He considered ignoring it. Then, before he could stop himself—

@LowBattery: “…One summer, I spent a night camping alone. Just me, a fire, and the stars. No noise. No people. Just quiet. It was… nice.”

He stared at it, horrified. He hadn’t meant to type all that. It felt too close. Too him.

But then—

@SunshinyVibes: “Wow. That sounds beautiful. Mine’s when I string up fairy lights and read until I fall asleep. It makes the world feel soft.”

Branch’s chest squeezed. He read the words three times, trying not to imagine a stranger glowing in the gentle light of fairy bulbs, smiling at a book until her eyes drifted shut.

@LowBattery: “…That’s not bad, either.”

@SunshinyVibes: “See? We’re compatible already. Tiny horses and fairy lights. Dream team.”

Her next message came with a sleepy emoji.

@SunshinyVibes: “Okay, mystery grump. I’m actually falling asleep. But this was fun. Thanks for not unmatching me lol 🌸 goodnight!”

Branch’s thumb hovered. He could leave it. Let it end there.

Instead—

@LowBattery: “…Goodnight.”

He set the phone down, scowling at how warm his chest felt. This was ridiculous.

It was just one night. One silly conversation. It didn’t mean anything.

So why was he already looking forward to the next ping?

Branch sat on the edge of his couch long after the last “goodnight” bubble disappeared.

His phone screen had gone dark. He should put it away. Should brush his teeth, go to bed, lock it all down the way he always did. But the warmth in his chest wouldn’t quit.

He’d laughed tonight. Out loud. Alone in his living room like an idiot.

And worse — he’d talked. Not just one-word replies or dry sarcasm, but actual words. Whole sentences. He’d told a stranger about camping. About the fire. About the stars. About something real.

He scrubbed a hand down his face. “What is wrong with me?”

It was dangerous, that’s what it was. Letting his guard down. Trusting someone who could be anyone — probably just another shallow optimist who’d vanish after three days of “what’s your favorite color?” texts.

Still…

Branch glanced at the phone. He could almost hear the tiny bubble popping up, see her silly emojis dancing across his screen.

Fairy lights. Muffins. Spiders and horses.

He snorted despite himself.

“Nope. Not happening,” he told the empty room. “I’m not catching feelings over some cupcake-obsessed glitter bomb.”

And yet, when he finally turned out the lights and crawled into bed, his phone rested on the pillow beside him.

Just in case it buzzed.

—

Poppy lay sprawled across her bed, hair fanned out around her like pink confetti. The glow from her phone lit up her face, and even though the screen had gone still, she couldn’t stop smiling at it.

She hadn’t smiled like this about someone in a long time.

Not since Creek.

Her stomach fluttered at the thought, but instead of sour pain, she felt… lighter. She’d expected that trying again would feel terrifying. Lonely. Too soon. Instead, she’d ended up laughing so hard she snorted into her pillow over tiny horses and muffins.

She giggled to herself, hugging the phone like it was a diary that had finally decided to talk back.

Her Twinkle squad burst in without knocking — Satin and Chenille dragging a hair mask kit, Guy Diamond still sparkling from his post-shower shimmer routine, and Smidge in footie pajamas.

“Well?” Chenille demanded.

“Did he reply?” Satin pressed.

“Did he sparkle in spirit??” Guy added.

“Do I need to threaten him?” Smidge rumbled.

Poppy held the phone to her chest, cheeks glowing. “He’s… funny. In a cranky, very ‘I-don’t-want-to-be-here’ kind of way. But he stayed. And he kept replying. And he…” She bit her lip, smile turning softer. “…he gets it.”

Satin squealed. “Oh my gosh, you like him.”

Chenille gasped. “She likes him!”

Guy Diamond clasped his hands dramatically. “The spark has been reignited!” Smidge fist-pumped. “Finally. Creek who? Exactly.”

Poppy threw a pillow at them, laughing. “It’s not like that! It’s just… it feels good. Like maybe… maybe I’m ready again. To hope.”

She rolled onto her back, phone resting just above her heart. One last thought crossed her mind before she drifted off:

She didn’t even know his name. And somehow, that made it even more exciting.

Chapter Text

Branch never liked mornings. Too bright, too loud, too many birds screaming like they had stock in chaos.

But this morning was worse.

The sunlight cut through the curtains, slicing right across his eyelids, and the only thing louder than the birds was the faint ping of his phone on the nightstand. He groaned, dragging the blanket over his head like it might block out both.

He lasted seven seconds. Then the blanket slid off, and his hand reached for the phone before his brain could veto it.

One notification.

@SunshinyVibes: “Good morning ☀️🌸 Did you dream about Sparklehoof, one of my tiny pet horses? Because I totally did. He won a medal. 🐎🥇”

Branch stared at the screen, steam from his coffee curling into his face. His first thought was to roll his eyes. His second thought was—well, actually, he didn’t have a second thought, because his brain was too busy replaying the stupid horse emoji like a GIF.

He set the mug down a little harder than necessary and started typing.

@LowBattery: “No. I don’t dream.”

He hit send. Immediately regretted how weird that sounded. Added another line.

@LowBattery: “I mean, not about horses. Or medals. Or… whatever you’re on.”

—

Across town, Poppy squealed so loudly her fairy lights shook from their hooks.

“He answered again!” she announced, grinning.

She typed furiously.

@SunshinyVibes: “😱 no dreams?? None?? That’s a crime. Even my grandma dreams and she naps like… ALL the time.”

—

Branch smirked despite himself. He took a long sip of coffee, trying to look stern even though no one could see him.

@LowBattery: “Dreams are just movies your brain makes when you’re unconscious. Not interested.”

He set the phone down again. This time he was determined to ignore it.

The phone buzzed instantly.

@SunshinyVibes: “Okay but imagine: tiny horse wins the race, we throw him a tiny party, everyone gets cupcakes. Not even a cameo? Not even as, like, the grumpy guy in the corner who refuses to dance?”

Branch exhaled through his nose. He should not be enjoying this. He should not want to type what he was about to type.

@LowBattery: “…Fine. I’ll be the guy in the corner. But don’t try to make me sing.”

—

Poppy hugged the phone to her chest again, cheeks pink to match her hair.

@SunshinyVibes: “Deal. You don’t sing. I don’t fight horse-sized spiders. Perfect team. 🌸✨”

She set the phone down and smiled up at her ceiling lights, which really did look like tiny stars if she squinted. For the first time in forever, she felt like maybe — just maybe — this wasn’t a mistake.

—

Branch’s repair shop sat on the corner of Main Street, tucked between a bakery that always smelled too sweet and a boutique that blasted pop music out of its doorway like a weapon.

The bell above his shop door jingled every time someone came in, which was way too often for his liking. He kept his head bent over a toaster he was repairing, pretending not to notice the stream of customers.

Fixing things was simple. Predictable. Toasters didn’t talk back. Laptops didn’t giggle. Speakers didn’t send him horse emojis at midnight.

He clenched his jaw, shook the thought away.
No. He wasn’t thinking about her. About @SunshinyVibes.

…Except he was.

The stupid cupcake picture. The ridiculous questions. The way he’d actually told her about camping under the stars. He hadn’t told anyone about that. Not Cooper, not Darnell. No one.

And worse — he hadn’t hated it.

The bell jingled again. Branch glanced up and groaned inwardly.

Of course.

Poppy marched in, a clipboard under her arm, wearing a jacket covered in enamel pins and at least three shades of pink. She always looked like someone had shaken a soda can of sunshine and then just… let it explode.

“Branch!” she chirped. “Perfect timing, I need your help with the community center sound system again. The karaoke machine keeps crackling and we can’t have static during ‘Living La Vida Loca.’”

Branch groaned. “Didn’t I fix that last month?”

“Yes, but then we used it for Bingo Night and—long story short—it exploded. But don’t worry!” She beamed. “I know you’ll save the day.”

She didn’t notice the way his ears heated, or the way he gripped his screwdriver too tight.

He scowled, muttering, “Yeah, fine. I’ll look at it.”

And when she skipped out the door again, Branch let his forehead thunk gently against the counter.

“Kill me,” he whispered.

—

At the Troll Village Community Center, chaos reigned in the best way. Kids ran through the halls with construction paper crowns, a bake sale table was covered in sprinkles, and volunteers were setting up streamers for Movie Night.

Poppy thrived in it. She darted from table to table, clipboard in hand, delegating like a pink-haired general of joy.

But her focus kept slipping. Every time her phone buzzed, her heart leapt.

She hadn’t stopped thinking about him all morning. About the tree-branch profile pic, the sarcastic little “maybe” he’d sent, the way he actually told her something real.

She tapped her phone awake, rereading the conversation for the tenth time.

“Who’s got you smiling like a cupcake commercial?” Chenille asked, sidling up with Satin.

“Is it Twinkle Guy?” Satin added, wiggling her eyebrows.

Poppy’s cheeks went warm. “Maybe. He’s just… different. He’s not trying too hard. He’s not creepy. He’s just… himself.”

“Translation,” Chenille said, “she likes him.”

“She really likes him,” Satin agreed.

Smidge marched over, hauling a stack of folding chairs like they weighed nothing. “If he hurts you, I’ll suplex him.”

Guy Diamond shimmered into view, holding a tray of rhinestones. “If he doesn’t hurt you, I’ll bedazzle him.”

Poppy groaned, hiding her smile behind her clipboard. “You guys, it’s not like that yet. It’s just… it feels good. Like maybe I can trust someone again.”

She hugged the phone to her chest for a second, glitter from her sleeves dusting the screen.

Her friends didn’t need to know she was already wondering when he’d message back.

—

Branch sat at his kitchen table, dinner abandoned half-eaten. His fork pushed peas around his plate like he was conducting a funeral march.

He wasn’t brooding. He was thinking. There was a difference.

And he definitely wasn’t thinking about the way Poppy had bounced into his shop earlier, rattling off karaoke songs like he cared. Or how the second she left, he’d caught himself wondering what kind of songs she sang. (Too cheerful, probably. Too sparkly. Definitely too loud.)

He scowled and shoved the thought aside, opening his laptop instead. He had three repair invoices to finish, and if he buried himself in spreadsheets, he could silence the little buzz in his chest.

The buzz came back anyway when his phone lit up on the counter.

One notification. Twinkle.

He froze. Told himself not to look. Told himself this was dumb. It could be anyone.

He made it exactly six seconds before snatching the phone up.

@SunshinyVibes: “Hey mystery grump 🌸✨ Just wanted you to know I’m campaigning for Sparklehoof to win Athlete of the Year. His acceptance speech will be tiny but heartfelt.”

Branch stared at the screen. His lips twitched before he could stop them. He set the phone down face-down like it had personally betrayed him.

He muttered to the empty room: “Nope. Not getting attached. Not happening.”…And then flipped it back over to type anyway.

@LowBattery: “…You’re insufferable.”

He hovered over send. Exhaled. Hit it.

The reply came almost instantly, full of emojis that made his stomach clench in a way he refused to name.

Branch leaned back in his chair, glaring at the ceiling. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t.

The fact that he couldn’t stop checking for the next buzz? That was just… professional curiosity.

Yeah. That’s all.

—

@SunshinyVibes: “Serious question: is soup just hot salad?”

@LowBattery: “…What is wrong with you (part 2).”

@SunshinyVibes: “No, listen!! Vegetables, broth = salad dressing. Same thing 😏”

@LowBattery: “…You can’t just say chaos and pretend it’s logic.”

@SunshinyVibes: “Tell that to Sparklehoof. He supports me.”

@SunshinyVibes: “Okay mystery grump, your turn. Ask me a weird question.”

Branch stared at his screen, thumb hovering. He wasn’t good at “weird.” He wasn’t good at questions. But eventually, he typed:

@LowBattery: “…If you had to give up either singing or cupcakes forever, which would you pick?”

The typing bubble exploded instantly.

@SunshinyVibes: “RUDE. UNFAIR. HORRIBLE QUESTION.”

@LowBattery: “You said weird. That’s what you get.”

@SunshinyVibes: “Fine. Cupcakes. I could never give up singing. But I’d cry every day about the lost cupcakes.”

Branch caught himself smiling again. He quickly shoved a pillow over his face, as if that would smother the evidence.

@SunshinyVibes: “What’s your favorite time of day?”

@LowBattery: “…Evening. It’s quiet. Less people.”

@SunshinyVibes: “Aw. Mine’s morning. Everything feels new. Like anything could happen. 🌸☀️”

Branch typed, erased, typed again. Finally sent:

@LowBattery: “Sounds… nice. I guess.”

@SunshinyVibes:
“Okay last one before sleep: are you more of a hug or high-five person?”

Branch scowled at the question. Too personal. Too silly. Too—

@LowBattery:
“…Neither.”

@SunshinyVibes:
“LIES. Everyone is at least one of those!!”

@LowBattery:
“Fine. Hug. But only if the person really deserves it.”

There was a long pause. His chest tightened. Then—

@SunshinyVibes:
“Noted. I’ll earn it. Goodnight, grump 💖🌸”

Branch stared at the screen until it went dark. His hands curled around the phone like it was fragile.

He was so doomed.

Branch had a rule: No distractions. No risks. No letting anyone close enough to knock down the walls he’d spent years building.

So why—why—was he staring at his phone again like a lovesick fool waiting for a notification?

He dragged a hand down his face and muttered into the empty apartment, “You’re pathetic.”

He’d made it through the whole day at the shop convincing himself last night had been a fluke. Some bizarre slip of judgment. He was tired, caught off-guard. That’s the only reason he’d laughed at her ridiculous tiny-horse obsession or admitted something real about the stars.

But then came tonight.

Soup-as-hot-salad. Hug-or-high-five. Singing vs. cupcakes. One dumb question after another, and every single time, he’d answered. He hadn’t even hated it. He’d actually—ugh—looked forward to it.

That was dangerous.

He couldn’t keep this up. Couldn’t let some stranger poke holes in his armor until there was nothing left. That’s how you got hurt. That’s how you ended up like—

Branch’s chest tightened, and he cut the thought off before it went any further.

No. He wasn’t going back there.

He picked up the phone, thumb hovering over the unmatch button. It would be easy. One tap and it would all be over: no more horse emojis, no more glitter-pink sunshine invading his night.

But he didn’t press it. Instead, he set the phone down carefully, like it was fragile. Like it mattered.

He stared at the ceiling, every muscle tight with the effort of pretending he wasn’t secretly waiting for it to buzz again.

“Don’t catch feelings,” he whispered. And hated how unconvincing he sounded.

Chapter Text

Morning at the community center was chaos, as always. Paper crowns half-glued together littered the craft tables, streamers dangled from the rafters, and someone had spilled an entire tub of sprinkles across the floor like confetti landmines.

Poppy thrived in it.

She bounced from table to table, clipboard in hand, doling out instructions and encouragement in equal measure. “You’re doing great! Perfect streamers! Yes, more glitter, always more glitter!”

But every few minutes, she snuck a glance at her phone.

Her grin hadn’t dimmed once since she’d woken up. Not after she’d reread their conversation in bed, not during breakfast when she’d nearly poured juice into her cereal because she was distracted, and definitely not now, surrounded by chaos.

Because Mystery Grump — @LowBattery — had actually admitted he was a hug person.

A hug person!

The thought made her giggle into her clipboard.

“Okay, spill,” Satin said, appearing at her elbow. Chenille mirrored her on the other side like a perfectly timed echo.

“You’ve been sparkling all morning,” Chenille accused. “More than usual.”

Poppy tried to keep her face straight. Failed immediately. “Nooo…” she said, drawing out the word like it could erase her blush.

Satin snatched the clipboard. “Receipt check.”

“Let me guess,” Chenille chimed, “Twinkle Boy said something devastatingly mediocre and you’re in love.”

Poppy groaned. “You guys, it’s not—he’s just—” She stopped, hugging her phone close to her chest. Her smile softened. “…He’s different. He makes me laugh. He doesn’t try to impress me, he just… is. I feel like I can be silly, and he doesn’t run away.”

Satin and Chenille exchanged a look, twin grins blooming.

“She likes him,” Satin sing-songed.

“She really likes him,” Chenille echoed.

Poppy ducked her head, cheeks pinker than her hair. “Okay, maybe I do. Just a little.”

Poppy’s phone buzzed in her hand, and she fumbled it like a secret she wasn’t supposed to drop. Her friends leaned in as she unlocked the screen.

@LowBattery: “Just saw a meme that said ‘salad is just a sandwich with trust issues.’ Thought you’d approve.”

Attached was a grainy photo of a wilted salad glaring at a perfectly built sandwich.

Poppy snorted so loudly the kids at the craft table looked over. “Oh my gosh.”

Her thumbs flew across the screen.

@SunshinyVibes: “WAIT. Hot salad. I TOLD YOU. Validation!! 🥗✨”

@LowBattery: “Don’t get cocky. I’m not agreeing with you, I’m just… presenting evidence.”

@SunshinyVibes: “Evidence that I’m RIGHT 🏆”

@LowBattery: “…Regretting this already.”

@SunshinyVibes: “No regrets. Only tiny medals for Sparklehoof 🐎🥇 and sandwiches with trust issues.”

Poppy giggled into her sleeve, her friends groaning in chorus.

“You’re impossible,” Chenille said.

“She’s glowing,” Satin pointed out.

Smidge grunted approvingly. “Text harder.”

Guy Diamond sighed. “I’ve never seen true love, but I imagine it looks like that.”

Poppy hugged her phone closer. The chaos around her blurred. It was just her and the little screen, the sarcastic stranger who somehow already felt less like a stranger.

—

Branch hunched over a half-dissected blender, screwdriver in hand, pretending very hard that he was not checking his phone every three minutes.

Daytime was supposed to be safe. Work hours. Repair hours. No texting hours.

And yet… he’d caved. He’d seen the meme. He’d thought of her. And before his brain could veto it, his thumb had betrayed him.

Now his phone sat on the counter, screen dark but charged with the possibility of buzzing again.

He jabbed the screwdriver too hard, nearly stripping a screw. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “It was just a dumb salad joke. Not a big deal.”

The bell above the shop door jingled, making him flinch. Mrs. Tuffet tottered in with a broken lamp, eyeing him suspiciously. “You look twitchy, dear. Too much caffeine?”

Branch muttered something incoherent, took the lamp, and promised a repair date he wouldn’t remember later. As soon as she left, his eyes darted back to the phone.

Still dark. Still waiting.

His chest tightened in something dangerously close to disappointment. He shook his head, refocusing on the blender guts.

But then—buzz.

Branch’s hand shot out before he could stop it.

@SunshinyVibes: “BREAKING NEWS: Sparklehoof just won a rematch 🐎🔥🥇 (aka I just convinced a group of preschoolers to make tiny horse masks at craft time and we held a race in the hallway).”

There was even a blurry photo attached: construction-paper horses taped to popsicle sticks, a trail of giggling kids running with them like a stampede.

Branch pressed his lips together, fighting a smile that wanted to sneak out anyway.

“…Daylight is dangerous,” he muttered. And texted back anyway.

@LowBattery: “Congratulations. Sparklehoof’s legacy lives on.”

—

@SunshinyVibes: “Okay update: disaster struck 😱 One of the horses tripped over a streamer. There were tears. We’re calling it Sparklehoof-gate.”

@LowBattery: “…Tragic. Should I send condolences?”

@SunshinyVibes: “Yes pls. Preferably in the form of tiny bouquets or… muffins.”

Branch’s thumb hovered. He told himself not to encourage her. He told himself—

@LowBattery: “…Fine. Chocolate chip. The only muffin worth eating.”

—

He set the phone down and reached for the toaster next in line. Plugged it in. Watched it spark.

Immediately unplugged it. Scowled. Reached for his screwdriver.

Buzz.

Branch’s head snapped up before he even realized it. He groaned into his hands. “This is pathetic.”

@SunshinyVibes: “BREAKING BREAKING NEWS: Sparklehoof has a rival. Meet Glitterhoof 🐎✨💖”

Attached was a picture of another popsicle-stick horse, this one covered entirely in sequins and stickers.

@LowBattery: “…That looks like it weighs more than the stick holding it up.”

@SunshinyVibes: “Strength of character keeps him upright 💪🌸”

@LowBattery: “…Unbelievable.”

@SunshinyVibes: “You love it.”

@LowBattery: “Incorrect.”

(He definitely did.)

He kept telling himself he should stop. Put the phone down. Focus. But then the phone buzzed again, and he snatched it up like a lifeline.

@SunshinyVibes: “Random question while I’m covered in glitter: what’s your least favorite food?”

@LowBattery: “…Any food someone tries to serve me with the phrase ‘superfood.’”

@SunshinyVibes: “Lmaooo valid. I once tried kale ice cream. Regretted it instantly.”

@LowBattery: “…Why would anyone eat that.”

@SunshinyVibes: “Because it was green and I was feeling adventurous. NEVER AGAIN.”

Branch huffed out a laugh before he could stop himself, startling even himself. He glanced around the empty shop like someone might’ve heard.

No one had. Just him, his broken blender, and the absurd warmth curling in his chest.

—

@SunshinyVibes: “Okay serious poll: pancakes for dinner = yay or nay?”

@LowBattery: “…Dinner is dinner. Pancakes are breakfast.”

@SunshinyVibes: “Wrong!! Pancakes are universal. They transcend time.”

@LowBattery: “Pretty sure the laws of meals disagree.”

@SunshinyVibes: “Guess I’ll just eat my dinner pancakes alone then 😔🥞✨”

Branch rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. And then, before he could stop himself:

@LowBattery: “…Fine. Pancakes for dinner. But only if there’s bacon.”

@SunshinyVibes: “Now you’re talking 🥓💖 Pancake-bacon treaty signed.”

He’d meant it to be short. A one-off reply. But instead he found himself leaning back on the couch, thumb hovering, waiting for her typing bubble to come back.

And it always did.

—

@SunshinyVibes: “Tell me something random about yourself. Go!”

@LowBattery: “…I hate musicals.”

@SunshinyVibes: “😱 MONSTER. Musicals are life.”

@LowBattery: “People don’t just burst into song in real life.”

@SunshinyVibes: “…You’ve clearly never met me.”

Branch froze. He stared at the text. He could almost hear the laugh behind it, almost see someone bright and too much for him to handle.

And yet, instead of running, he typed back.

@LowBattery: “…Somehow I believe that.”

He dropped the phone onto the cushion beside him, rubbed at his face. He needed to stop. To shut this down before it got—

Buzz.

He picked it up instantly.

@SunshinyVibes: “Hey grump… today was kinda stressful. Not bad, just a lot. Thanks for making me laugh.”

Branch’s chest tightened. That… wasn’t a joke. Wasn’t glitter. It was real. His thumbs hesitated. Then:

@LowBattery: “…You’re welcome. For what it’s worth… you make me laugh too. Which is… rare.”

There was a long pause. He considered deleting it. Then her reply popped up.

@SunshinyVibes: “😳 …that’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all week. Goodnight, Mystery Grump 🌸✨”

Branch set the phone down slowly, staring at the dark screen.

He knew he was supposed to feel in control. He knew he was supposed to keep his guard up.

Instead, all he could think was how much he wanted tomorrow to hurry up so the pings would start again.

Chapter Text

Branch sat behind the counter, sipping coffee that was too hot and glaring at a stubborn radio that refused to tune. His phone buzzed against the wood.

He told himself to ignore it. Customers could walk in any second. He had work to do.

He checked it anyway.

@SunshinyVibes: “Morning 🌞✨ What’s your fuel of choice today? Coffee? Tea? Pure spite?”

Branch snorted into his mug.

@LowBattery: “…Spite. Black, no sugar.”

@SunshinyVibes: “Classic. I’m on my second latte already. If I get a third I might start vibrating at a frequency only dogs can hear ☕🐶🌸”

Branch rubbed his temple, but he was smiling. He typed back.

@LowBattery: “Please warn me before you start barking. Customers might complain.”

—

Poppy balanced her phone between her cheek and shoulder as she tried to tape up a sagging “MOVIE NIGHT TONIGHT” banner. Satin and Chenille were supposed to help, but they’d gotten distracted bedazzling the snack table signs.

Her phone buzzed again. She nearly dropped the tape dispenser in her rush to check.

@LowBattery: “Please warn me before you start barking. Customers might complain.”

Poppy giggled out loud, wobbling on tiptoe. “He’s hilarious. Like… actually hilarious.”

Smidge handed her the tape roll, deadpan. “You’re glowing again.”

Poppy grinned sheepishly. “Am not.”

“You sooo are,” Satin teased. “She hasn’t stopped since yesterday,” Chenille added.

Poppy stuck the tape on, stepped back to look at the crooked banner, and sighed. “Okay, maybe I’m glowing a little. But also—ugh! This stupid projector won’t work, and if I can’t fix it, movie night is doomed.”

She glanced at her phone, chewing her lip. “…Maybe I know someone who can help.”

—

The bell jingled. Branch didn’t even look up, assuming it was another broken toaster. “Leave it on the counter,” he muttered.

“Hi Branch!”

He froze. Looked up.

Of course. Her. Clipboard clutched to her chest, hair in a messy bun with a pencil stuck through it, Poppy stood in his doorway, smiling so brightly she practically outshone the sun.

“The projector at the center’s being weird again,” she said. “Any chance you could, you know, rescue it?”

Branch groaned and set his screwdriver down. “You’re kidding.”

Poppy clasped her hands dramatically. “Please? We can’t have static AND a broken projector. That would be, like, a crime against fun.”

He muttered something unprintable under his breath. But he was already grabbing his toolkit.

The community center smelled faintly of popcorn and poster paint when Branch trudged in, toolkit in hand. He already hated it.

Poppy skipped ahead of him down the hall, talking a mile a minute. “We tried plugging it in a different outlet. Didn’t work. We tried smacking it lightly—”

“Smacking it lightly,” Branch repeated flatly.

“Well, Smidge smacked it lightly,” Poppy admitted. “Which is to say, she almost punted it into another dimension.”

Branch pinched the bridge of his nose. “Unbelievable.”

They reached the rec room where the sad, dark projector sat hunched on a table surrounded by streamers and folding chairs. Branch set down his kit, crouched beside it, and popped the panel open.

“You didn’t change the bulb,” he said immediately.

Poppy leaned down beside him, hands on her knees. “There’s a bulb?”

Branch’s eyebrow twitched. “Yes, Poppy. Projectors have bulbs. They don’t just… manifest light from the power of positive thinking.”

She gasped in mock offense. “You don’t know that. Maybe this one thrives on good vibes.”

Branch pulled out the burnt-out bulb and held it up between two fingers. “This one’s dead. Your vibes killed it.”

Poppy laughed, bright and bubbling, her shoulder bumping into his as she leaned closer. “Well, lucky for us, we have you.”

His hand stilled on the new bulb. He swallowed. “Yeah, lucky you.”

Ten minutes later, the projector hummed back to life, casting bright white light across the streamers.

“Yes!” Poppy clapped her hands. “You saved movie night!”

Branch muttered, “You’re welcome,” and started packing up his tools. He hoped she wouldn’t notice the way his ears had gone pink.

But Poppy had already crouched beside him again, chin propped in her hand as she watched him tuck the screwdriver away. “You know,” she said casually, “for someone who acts like he hates everything, you’re kind of a hero.”

Branch nearly dropped the screwdriver. “I’m not—”

“You are.” She smiled at him, soft this time, not teasing. “You always show up.”

For a moment, the hum of the projector filled the silence between them. His chest felt too tight, his throat too dry. He looked away, muttering, “Don’t make it a big deal.”

Poppy tilted her head, studying him like she could see the cracks in his armor. Then she grinned again, lighter this time. “Fine, I’ll save the big deal for when you fix the karaoke machine too.”

Branch groaned. “Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely yes.” She was already on her feet, dragging him toward the other room.

And as Branch let himself be pulled along — grumbling the whole way — his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He didn’t check it. He didn’t need to. He already knew who it was.

—

The karaoke machine flickered back to life, the room filling with bleeps and bloops. 

“Yes!” Poppy clapped. “Movie night is saved.”

Branch muttered, “You’re welcome,” and bent to gather his tools. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and without thinking, he slipped it out.

On the screen:

@SunshinyVibes: “Do you think squirrels ever get jealous of birds? Like… squirrels are great climbers, but they’ll never know what flying feels like. Kinda tragic, right? 🐿️✨”

Branch’s thumb hovered over the keyboard. He snorted again. Of course she’d be worrying about squirrel feelings.

Behind him, Poppy gasped. “Wait… was that a text?!”

Branch nearly dropped the screwdriver. “No,” he said too quickly, clutching his phone to his chest.

Poppy leaned over, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh my gosh, you’re texting someone! Branch, who is she? Spill!”

“None of your business.” He shoved the phone into his vest pocket, ears burning crimson. “And your projector’s fixed. Don’t break it again.”

Poppy folded her arms, putting her own phone back in her pocket from where she had been texting too, still grinning. “Mysterious and handy. You’ve got layers, Branch.”

He grumbled something incoherent and hefted his toolkit, but the warmth in his chest only grew stronger. His phone buzzed again. He didn’t need to look to know it was her.

—

Branch hunched over a half-dismantled radio, screwdriver clenched in his fist. The shop was still, the hum of the fluorescent light overhead the only sound—until his phone buzzed against the counter.

He told himself to ignore it. He did not need this distraction. He had repairs to finish.

He lasted six seconds.

@SunshinyVibes: “Update: tried barking at a squirrel out the window. He threw an acorn at me. 0/10, do not recommend 🐿️💥😂”

Branch’s mouth twitched. He tried to scowl. He failed.

@LowBattery: “Called it. You can’t out-squirrel a squirrel.”

A bubble popped back up before he even put the phone down.

@SunshinyVibes: “😱 HOW DARE YOU BE FUNNY AGAIN. That’s my job.”

@LowBattery: “Guess you’re not as irreplaceable as you thought.”

@SunshinyVibes: “Oh, so you do think about replacing me. I’m wounded. Deeply. Expect a dramatic ballad later.”

—

Poppy sat cross-legged on her bed, hair let down, fairy lights twinkling across the ceiling. Her phone glowed in her lap.

She couldn’t stop replaying it: Branch, clutching his phone like it was a state secret. Branch, muttering defensively. Branch… texting someone.

Whoever it was, they must be something special if even Branch had his ears turning red over it.

Her phone buzzed. She glanced down—and lit up instantly.

@LowBattery: “So. Did you serenade your neighbors with that dramatic ballad yet?”

Poppy squealed into her pillow before typing back:

@SunshinyVibes: “YES. Full performance. Squirrels were in tears. 🌰😭✨”

@LowBattery: “Sure. Or they were throwing acorns again.”

@SunshinyVibes: “Okay rude. But maybe fair. I think one actually booed me.”

She giggled, thumb hovering before she added:

@SunshinyVibes: “Real talk tho… who do you text when you’re having a bad day?”

She bit her lip after sending it. That was… maybe too real.

—

Branch stared at the message, heart hammering.

He should leave it. He should shut this down before he said anything he’d regret.

But the silence stretched, and the thought of her waiting on the other end…

He typed.

@LowBattery: “…No one. Usually.”

He hesitated. Then added:

@LowBattery: “But… I guess now I text you.”

The bubble appeared almost instantly.

@SunshinyVibes: “😳 …okay wow. That’s officially the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in forever. You’re gonna make me blush.”

Branch dropped his phone on the couch, groaning into his hands. “Idiot,” he muttered. But he couldn’t stop the heat creeping up his neck.

—

She set her phone on her chest, staring up at the fairy lights with the biggest grin.

He texted her when he was having a bad day. Her.

For a second, her mind wandered back to the shop earlier. To Branch, hunched over the projector, clearly hiding someone he was texting. She laughed softly.

“Poor guy,” she whispered. “Hope she knows she’s lucky.”

She picked her phone back up, thumbs flying.

@SunshinyVibes: “Fine. But just so you know, you’re stuck with me now. I’m officially your emotional support chaos.”

—

And across town, Branch read it and muttered:

“…I’m doomed.”

—

Her room glowed with fairy lights, music humming softly from her speakers. Poppy was sprawled across her bed, her phone balanced on her stomach.

She typed fast, thumbs practically dancing.

@SunshinyVibes: “Okay… so since we’re talking about bad days… there’s this one person in my life who kinda frustrates me. I’m always trying to be nice to them, and it feels like they just… don’t want me around. Like nothing I do is good enough. 😔”

She hesitated. Added a quick flourish:

@SunshinyVibes: “But don’t worry, I’m not crying into cupcakes or anything 😂🧁✨”

She hit send, heart thudding.

—

Branch froze when the notification lit up his screen. His stomach twisted into knots as he read it.

There was no way. No way she could be talking about him.

Except… she was describing him. Word for word.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, clumsy and hesitant. Then, almost against his will:

@LowBattery: “…I’ve got someone like that too. She’s… nice. Too nice. Always trying to be my friend. But she doesn’t realize she pushes too hard sometimes. Gets under my skin.”

He stared at the words, jaw clenched. Too much. He should delete it. Instead, he hit send.

—

Poppy’s eyes widened. She sat up in bed, pillow tumbling to the floor.

He had someone like that too?

She thought of Branch instantly—his scowls whenever she showed up with cupcakes or clipboards. The way he always helped anyway, no matter how much he groaned.

Her heart squeezed. She quickly typed back:

@SunshinyVibes: “Maybe she’s not trying to annoy you. Maybe she just thinks you’re worth the effort. Some people see walls and think… challenge accepted. 💪🌸”

—

Branch read the message, pulse thudding in his ears.

Worth the effort.

That was… exactly what Poppy would say.

His chest tightened. He set the phone down, then snatched it back up again before he could talk himself out of it.

@LowBattery: “…Maybe. I don’t… hate it. Always. Just… don’t know what to do with it.”

He hit send before his nerves could catch up.

—

Her breath caught. She reread the message three times, her smile wobbling into something softer, warmer.

He didn’t hate it. He just didn’t know what to do with it.

She whispered to herself, “That’s… kinda sweet.”

Her thumbs flew:

@SunshinyVibes: “Hey. You don’t have to do anything. Just being you is enough. (But if you ever want to tell her that? I bet it would make her really happy.)”

She sent it, then tucked the phone against her chest, heart pounding.

—

Branch stared at the glowing screen, every defense he’d ever built suddenly feeling paper-thin.

He wasn’t ready to say it. He wasn’t sure he could say it. But for the first time, the idea didn’t feel impossible.

He exhaled, almost a laugh, almost a sigh.

@LowBattery: “…Goodnight.”

And he meant it.

Chapter Text

The community rec room was already buzzing. Streamers draped from the rafters, a popcorn machine sputtered like it might spontaneously combust, and Satin and Chenille were locked in a heated debate about which shade of pink balloons clashed least with the tablecloths.

Branch regretted every life choice that had led him here. He stood on a ladder, fiddling with the projector mount, while Poppy hovered below, craning her neck to “help.”

“Left a little more!” she called.

“It’s literally level,” Branch muttered, twisting the screwdriver.

“Nooo, it’s artistically crooked. That’s different.”

He rolled his eyes, but adjusted it anyway.

His phone pinged in his pocket. Branch froze, one hand braced on the ladder. He pretended to check the time, thumb sneaking over the screen.

@SunshinyVibes: “Emergency: is it weird to eat popcorn for dinner before you’ve even watched the movie? Asking for… myself. 🍿😅”

Branch sighed, but typed anyway.

@LowBattery: “…It’s weird. But also on brand for you.”

He shoved the phone away quickly and went back to tightening screws, ears heating.

—

Across the room, Poppy crouched beside Smidge, who was single-handedly moving an entire stack of folding chairs. Her phone buzzed in her apron pocket.

She peeked at it, grinning.

@LowBattery: “…It’s weird. But also on brand for you.”

She squeaked into her hands.

“What’s he saying?” Satin asked immediately, materializing at her elbow.

“Nothing!” Poppy said too quickly, stuffing the phone back into her pocket.

—

Branch climbed down, landing with a thud. Poppy spun toward him, clapping her hands. “Perfect! You did it again, hero!”

“Don’t call me that,” he muttered, coiling up the cord.

“Fine, fine,” she teased, trailing after him as he carried the toolbox away. “But if you keep rescuing all our machines, people are gonna start writing sonnets about you.”

“Great,” Branch deadpanned. “That’s exactly what I need. Free poetry.”

Poppy laughed, eyes sparkling. “You’d hate it. Which is why I’m totally organizing a poetry night next month.”

“Don’t.”

“Too late.”

—

Poppy’s pocket vibrated again. She slipped behind the snack table, pretending to rearrange cupcakes while she checked her screen.

@LowBattery: “Popcorn is a crime against dinner. Muffins are acceptable. Pizza is mandatory.”

She grinned, typing back under the table:

@SunshinyVibes: “Fine. Popcorn appetizer, pizza main course, muffin dessert. Happy now, Mr. Rules? 😋🧁”

—

From across the room, Branch felt the buzz in his vest. He pressed his lips together, glancing toward the snack table where Poppy was bent over a tray of cupcakes, phone glowing in her hand.

He looked away immediately, muttering to himself as he thumbed a reply.

@LowBattery: “…That’s… tolerable.”

He shoved the phone back in his pocket and grabbed another chair to unfold, trying not to notice how Poppy was smiling at hers.

Trying not to notice how the two smiles looked… suspiciously alike.

—

The projector was fixed, the chairs half-unfolded, and Branch was already calculating how quickly he could escape back to the blessed silence of his shop.

Unfortunately, Poppy had other plans.

She intercepted him halfway to the door, arms full of streamers, eyes wide with faux innocence.
“Branch,” she said sweetly. “Hold this.”

Before he could argue, she dumped the entire rainbow bundle into his arms.

Branch scowled at the tangle. “I’m not your decoration mule.”

“You are temporarily hired as my decoration mule,” Poppy chirped, darting up a chair to tape streamers across the doorway. “Don’t worry, benefits include popcorn.”

“Wow. Generous.” He sighed, unspooling the paper until it didn’t look like a bird’s nest. “You realize this whole place already looks like a confetti factory exploded, right?”

“That’s the vibe,” Poppy said, hopping down and grabbing another roll. “Festive. Inviting. Like joy walked in and decided to stay forever.”

Branch muttered, “Joy should pay rent, then.”

She laughed, brushing glitter off her hands. “See? You’re funny when you try.”

His ears heated. He ducked back into untangling the next streamer.

—

By the time the walls were covered in tissue-paper rainbows, Poppy plopped into a folding chair with a satisfied sigh. 

“Perfect,” she declared. Then her gaze flicked to Branch, still tidying up his toolkit. “Sooo… you’re staying for movie night, right?”

Branch froze. “What? No. I just fixed your projector. My contract ends here.”

“Oh, come on.” She leaned forward, grin bright. “One movie. Just one. You don’t even have to sit in the front. I’ll save you a seat in the back corner with the other cool, mysterious types.”

Branch rolled his eyes. “I don’t do crowds.”

“Then sit in the corner and scowl at everyone. It’s a vibe!”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Not happening.”

But then her words from earlier floated back into his head. 

Maybe she just thinks you’re worth the effort. Some people see walls and think: challenge accepted.

He exhaled through his nose, glaring at the floor like it had betrayed him. “...Maybe for a few minutes. If things get wild, I’m leaving.”

Poppy squealed so loudly the popcorn machine sputtered again. “Yes! You’re gonna love it.”

“Doubtful,” Branch muttered, snapping his toolbox shut. But his chest felt uncomfortably warm.

As he shoved the chair back into place, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He snuck a glance.

@SunshinyVibes: “Today was chaotic. Glitter everywhere. But I kinda love it. Wish you could see it. ✨”

His stomach flipped. His eyes flicked toward Poppy, who was now happily sticking nametags on cups.

Branch looked back at his phone, thumbs hesitating.

@LowBattery: “…Maybe someday.”

—

The rec room was transformed. Streamers fluttered in the projector’s glow, rows of folding chairs lined up in cheerful, uneven rows, and the popcorn machine had already coated the floor in a fine dusting of butter and salt.

Branch stood in the doorway, toolkit still slung at his side, looking like he’d wandered into enemy territory.

Poppy spotted him instantly.

“Branch! You came!” she squealed, bounding over with two cups of popcorn. One was predictably normal. The other was… suspiciously pink.

“I said a few minutes,” he muttered, eyeing the pink popcorn like it might bite him.

“It’s cotton candy flavored!” she said proudly. “It’s, like, popcorn but happier.”

“That sounds like a health code violation.”

“Try it.” She shoved the cup into his hands before he could protest. “If you hate it, you can have mine too.”

Branch stared at the pastel kernels. “Great. Double the violation.”

But when she turned away to greet someone else, he popped one into his mouth. It was terrible. 

He ate another.

Half an hour later, the lights were down, the movie flickered across the screen, and Branch sat wedged into the very back row, arms crossed.

His phone buzzed. He angled it low.

@SunshinyVibes: “Watching a movie rn but the popcorn is suspiciously pink… pretty sure it’s trying to kill me 😂🍿”

Branch froze, kernel halfway to his mouth. His eyes flicked to the cup in his lap—the exact same pink stuff.

Coincidence. Had to be. He typed back.

@LowBattery: “…Told you popcorn was a crime against dinner.”

—

Poppy stifled a laugh behind her cup of cotton-candy popcorn. Guy Diamond shushed her dramatically. She typed anyway, fingers glowing in the projector light.

@SunshinyVibes: “Okay but… you were right 😳 It’s basically weaponized sugar. I can’t feel my tongue.”

—

Branch shoved his phone deep into his pocket, ears heating. He should be watching the movie. He should not be texting. He should definitely not be wondering if the girl sitting two rows ahead, laughing too loud at the slapstick scene on screen, was also the one sending him cupcake and squirrel emojis at all hours.

He popped another kernel in his mouth. Grimaced. Yeah. Definitely weaponized sugar.

When the credits finally rolled, the room exploded in applause and chatter. Poppy darted down the aisle, clutching her phone in one hand, half-eaten popcorn in the other. She spotted Branch lurking in the corner.

“Well?” she asked, plopping into the seat beside him. “Did you hate it less than you thought you would?”

Branch shrugged, pretending to study the floor. “It wasn’t… awful.”

“That’s practically a rave review coming from you,” she teased.

His phone buzzed again. Poppy leaned over, catching the faint glow. Her eyes widened. “Branch. Are you texting again?!”

He snapped the phone shut so fast he nearly dropped it. “No.”

Poppy gasped, clutching her popcorn cup like it was scandalous evidence. “You totally are! Branch, this is huge. You’ve got a secret life!”

Branch muttered something about “needing to leave” and stood up, tugging his hood over his head.

But when his phone buzzed again in his pocket, he didn’t ignore it.

—

Branch shoved his way into his apartment, dropping his toolkit with a clatter. He flicked the lock, kicked off his boots, and muttered to the empty room:

“Never again.”

Never again would he get roped into stringing up streamers. Never again would he sit through ninety minutes of slapstick with thirty trolls laughing loud enough to rattle his teeth. Never again would he eat popcorn that looked like it had been dipped in cotton candy and regret every kernel.

His phone buzzed.

He froze. He should ignore it. He should shower, brush his teeth, erase tonight from his memory.

He picked it up anyway.

@SunshinyVibes: “Movie night verdict: suspiciously pink popcorn = 2/10. Would not recommend unless you want a sugar coma 😵🍿💖”

Branch nearly dropped the phone. His throat made a sound somewhere between a cough and a choke.

He stared at the words, pulse hammering.

Pink popcorn. Sugar coma. The exact words he’d thought earlier.

His phone buzzed again.

@SunshinyVibes: “But the movie was fun. I sat way in the back this time—kinda nice not to be in the middle of the chaos. 😌”

Branch’s stomach dropped. Back row. That was his row.

His hand tightened around the phone. He forced himself to breathe, to type something—anything—normal.

@LowBattery: “…Back row’s not bad. Quieter.”

Three dots appeared instantly.

@SunshinyVibes: “Exactly!! Omg you get it 😍 Everyone else was laughing so loud, I was glad to have a little bubble to myself.”

Branch slumped onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. She was describing his night. She was describing his seat.

And he was dangerously close to putting it all together.

“…I’m doomed,” he muttered again to the dark room.

—

Poppy flopped onto her bed, still in her glitter-dusted jacket from movie night. The fairy lights overhead made her room glow like starlight, but her phone lit her up even brighter.

She pulled open her group chat — a thread with Satin, Chenille, Smidge, and Guy Diamond labeled “✨ Squad Goals ✨”.

Poppy: “Okay, don’t freak out, but tonight was amazing. Movie night = success, projector = fixed, popcorn = still pink and dangerous 🍿😵 BUT—Mystery Grump texted me again during the movie!!”

A typing flurry exploded.

Satin: “OMG STOP. What did he say???”

Chenille: “WAIT, you were texting during the movie?? SCANDALOUS.”

Smidge: “Tell me he said something cute or I will riot.”

Guy Diamond: “Forget cute. Did it SPARKLE??”

Poppy grinned and typed back, rolling onto her stomach.

Poppy: “He made fun of the popcorn. Said it was a crime against dinner. He’s sooooo grumpy and it’s kinda adorable?? Like he pretends he hates everything but then he keeps replying 😍”

Satin:“She’s in looooove.”

Chenille:“Truly disgusting. I support it.”

Smidge: “Tell him you like him. NOW.”

Guy Diamond: “Glitterbomb him with your feelings 💥✨💖”

Poppy squealed into her pillow, kicking her legs.

Poppy: “Not yet!! It’s too soon. But he did say something that made my heart melt a little…”

Satin: “Spill 👀”

Poppy: “He said when he has a bad day… he texts me. Just me. 😳”

The chat exploded.

Chenille: “OKAY BUT THAT’S HUGE.”

Smidge: “That’s basically a proposal.”

Guy Diamond: “I’m already planning the glitter reception.”

Satin: “Poppy you are GLOWING. This is big.”

Poppy pressed the phone to her chest, smiling so wide her cheeks hurt.

“I think,” she whispered to her fairy lights, “I might actually be falling for him.”

—

The group chat had gone quiet, her friends satisfied with their teasing. Poppy set her phone on her nightstand and pulled out her journal — the one with a cover bedazzled within an inch of its life and doodles spilling out of every margin.

She uncapped her glitter pen and started scribbling.

Movie night = amazing. Mystery Grump = even more amazing.

She tapped the pen against her chin, then doodled a cupcake with arms flexing like a bodybuilder.

“He texts me when he has bad days,” she whispered to the page, cheeks heating. Just saying it out loud made her chest feel fizzy.

Her thoughts drifted, unspooling into softer shapes.

What did he look like, behind the tree-branch profile picture? Maybe dark-haired, maybe scruffy. Probably had that serious face that cracked into a rare, perfect smile when he let himself laugh.

She scribbled a half-sketched face, smudged it out, and drew a new one with sharper eyebrows.

What about his voice? In her head, it was low, quiet, almost grumbly. The kind of voice that said “I don’t care,” while secretly meaning I care too much.

She tucked her chin into her knees, giggling into the empty room.

He probably didn’t even realize how sweet he was being when he let things slip — like how he didn’t hate it when that one girl kept trying, or how he actually thought she was worth texting. He probably thought he was being detached, when really he was giving her little pieces of his heart one sarcastic reply at a time.

Poppy closed her journal with a sigh, sliding under her blankets. The fairy lights glowed above, a galaxy of tiny sparks.

“Goodnight, Mystery Grump,” she whispered.

And she drifted off with a smile, imagining the sound of a voice she didn’t know yet — low, reluctant, and secretly gentle — telling her goodnight too.

Chapter Text

The alarm buzzed at 7:00. Branch smacked it silent and lay there, eyes squeezed shut.

Routine. That was the rule. Get up. Make coffee. Ignore the world.

Except his hand reached for the phone first.

He glared at the glowing screen, thumb hovering. You’re pathetic, he told himself. Coffee first. Always coffee first.

He opened Twinkle instead.

Nothing new.

He tossed the phone onto the blanket and groaned into his pillow. “Good,” he muttered. “You don’t need her blowing up your mornings too.”

He rolled out of bed, shuffled to the kitchen, started the coffee pot. By the time the smell filled the room, his phone buzzed.

Branch’s pulse jumped. He swore under his breath, snatched it up.

@SunshinyVibes: “Good morning 🌞 I hope today’s less grumpy than yesterday. (But if it’s not, I’m available for sarcasm duty.)”

Branch pinched the bridge of his nose. She’d barely been awake and already she was in.

He typed one-handed, coffee mug clutched in the other.

@LowBattery: “…Sarcasm duty? That’s not a real job.”

@SunshinyVibes: “Sure it is! I’m basically your emotional support chaos 🌸”

@LowBattery: “…Not sure that’s a service I asked for.”

@SunshinyVibes: “Nope! That’s what makes it free 😘”

Branch nearly choked on his coffee. He set the mug down, staring at the little heart-eyed kiss emoji like it had personally offended him. His ears burned hot.

😘

One little face. Tiny. Harmless. Just pixels.

Except it wasn’t harmless. It was nuclear. It was a weapon.

“What does it mean?” he muttered, pacing his kitchen. “Is it a joke? Is it friendly? Is it—” He stopped himself, ears burning. “Nope. Not thinking that. Absolutely not.”

He sat back down at the table, phone clutched in both hands like it might bite him.

Option A: Ignore it. Pretend it wasn’t there. Just move the conversation along like a normal, unaffected person.

Option B: Comment on it. Call it out. Risk sounding like a clueless idiot.

Option C: Send an emoji back. Which was basically signing a contract in glitter and confetti.

Branch groaned into his hands. “Why am I even considering this?”

His thumb hovered over the keyboard. He typed:

@LowBattery: “…Emoji abuse is a crime.”

Deleted it.

Typed again:

@LowBattery: “…You can’t just throw those around. They mean things.”

Deleted that too. Too vulnerable.

Finally he slammed out:

@LowBattery: “…So that’s how it is. Weaponized emojis now.”

He stared at it. Read it three times. Hit send.

Immediately regretted it.

—

Poppy squealed into her latte, nearly spilling it. “He noticed!” she whispered to herself, cheeks glowing.

Her thumbs danced.

@SunshinyVibes: “Duh. You started it with your secret comedy routine. I’m just escalating 😏🌸”

—

Branch dropped his head onto the table with a thunk.

Escalating. She was escalating.

—

The community center was loud with laughter, the sound of chairs scraping, and someone testing a microphone too close to the speaker. Poppy ducked behind the snack table, grinning at her phone as messages lit up.

She popped into the group chat.

Poppy: “Okay but you guys—he freaked out over an emoji. An emoji! 🤭”

Satin:“Classic.”

Chenille: “Bet he googled ‘what does 😘 mean.’”

Smidge: “I like him.”

Guy Diamond: “He’s resisting… but the spark is there ✨”

Poppy squealed softly, typing back:

Poppy: “He’s SO grumpy. But he keeps answering. He’s totally into it. I can feel it.”

She looked up across the room. Branch was bent over the projector again, scowling at the cables. His phone buzzed in his vest pocket. He stiffened, glancing around like a guilty man.

Poppy smirked, biting her lip to keep from laughing out loud. “Mystery Grump,” she whispered to herself.

—

That evening, Poppy tapped her pen against her journal. She wanted to be brave. Not, like, scary-brave. More like… cupcake-frosting-too-bright brave.

She stared at their thread for a solid minute before typing:

@SunshinyVibes: “So, if you’re a hug person… does that mean you give good hugs? 👀💞 Asking for research purposes only.”

She hit send, squeaking and burying her face in her pillow immediately after. Okay. That was… fine. Totally fine. Not too much. Just a little test.

—

Branch’s phone buzzed. He squinted at the screen, reading once, then twice, then a third time, like the words might rearrange themselves into something less dangerous.

Good hugs. Research purposes. His ears were on fire.

He paced the length of his bunker. He couldn’t just leave her hanging — that would be rude. But… what was he supposed to say to that? If he agreed, he’d sound like a creep. If he denied it, he’d sound cold.

He typed:

@LowBattery: “…I don’t know. I don’t exactly conduct experiments.”

He stared. Deleted. Too flat.

He typed again:

@LowBattery: “…I mean… no one’s complained?”

He dropped the phone on the couch and backed away like it had exploded.

—

Poppy gasped so loudly that Smidge texted her from across town.

Smidge: “Are you okay?? Did the muffin explode??”

Poppy: “HE SAID NO ONE’S COMPLAINED ABOUT HIS HUGS 😳😭💖”

Satin: “!!! GIRL”

Chenille: “oh my sparkle. he’s basically offering you a hug.”

Guy Diamond: “we’ll need matching glitter ponchos for the ceremony ✨”

Poppy flopped back on her bed, her smile so wide her cheeks ached. She texted him back, fingers trembling from excitement.

@SunshinyVibes: “Then I call dibs on being your official hug tester. For science, obviously. 💕”

—

Another buzz. He swallowed, picking up the phone with both hands.

Official hug tester. For science. And the little pink heart.

Branch groaned, falling back against his pillow. “Why. Why do I like this. Why do I want that?”

He typed:

@LowBattery: “…You’d probably fail the experiment. Zero objectivity.”

Sent it before he could overthink himself into silence.

The dots appeared instantly.

@SunshinyVibes: “Pfft. Please. I’d be the most dedicated scientist EVER 🔬✨”

He covered his face with his pillow. He was done for. Absolutely, hopelessly done for.

—

The fairy lights glowed soft above her head, and Poppy twirled her pen between her fingers. She’d been giggling into her pillow over his “no one’s complained” line for an hour now.

But something inside her wanted more than just teasing.

Her thumbs hovered. She bit her lip, then typed:

@SunshinyVibes: “Ya know… this is a dating app. Where people look for potential partners. Sooo… this scientist is curious if you’re actually interested 👀💕”

She hit send, gasped, and buried her face in her hands. “Ohmygosh ohmygosh, too much—no, it’s fine, it’s fine.”

Her phone buzzed almost immediately.

—

Branch stared at the message like it was a live grenade.

Partners.

Interested.

Curious.

His brain scrambled in every direction at once.

• If he said yes, he was basically… what? Asking her out? That was insane.
  
  
• If he said no, she’d vanish. He didn’t want that.
  
  
• If he ignored it, she’d know.
  
  

He paced the length of his bunker, muttering to himself. “Play it cool. Just… play it cool.”

He typed:

@LowBattery: “…Depends what ‘interested’ means. In muffins? Sure. In cupcakes? Maybe. In people? …complicated.”

He stared. Too vague. Too weird. Deleted it.

Tried again.

@LowBattery: “…I wouldn’t still be talking to you if I wasn’t.”

He froze. His stomach dropped. He actually hit send this time.

—

Poppy squealed into her pillow so loudly her fairy lights shook. She rolled onto her back, kicking her legs.

@SunshinyVibes: “😳😳😳…okay that’s basically the cutest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Her grin softened into something tender.

@SunshinyVibes: “Then I guess I’m interested too 🌸✨”

—

Branch slumped onto the couch, hand over his face. His phone buzzed again. He peeked through his fingers.

Interested too. With sparkles.

He groaned. “This is insane.”

But his chest ached in the best way.

—

Poppy twirled her glitter pen between her fingers, staring at their chat. He’d admitted he didn’t hate her company. He even said he texted her when he had a bad day. That had to mean something, right?

Her heart was thumping, but she typed anyway.

@SunshinyVibes: “So… if I was this girl you keep saying gets under your skin 👀 …would that be a bad thing?”

She chewed her lip, hit send, and immediately squeaked into her pillow. “Too much, too much, way too much—”

Her phone buzzed before she could spiral too far.

—

Branch froze mid-step on the way to refill his water glass. He read the message once, twice, then a third time, as if it might transform into something safer.

If I was this girl… would that be a bad thing?

His chest squeezed tight. His ears burned. He rubbed his temple like he could knead the words right out of existence.

What was he supposed to say?

He typed:

@LowBattery: “…Yes.”

He stared at it. Too harsh. He deleted it.

Tried again:

@LowBattery: “…Depends on the day.”

Deleted that too.

Finally, with his heart hammering, he typed:

@LowBattery: “…Not bad. Just… confusing. I don’t always know what to do with… people like that.”

He hit send before he could chicken out.

—

The reply popped up, and Poppy pressed her hand over her mouth.

Not bad. Just confusing.

Her grin softened, heart blooming so wide it hurt. He wasn’t pushing her away. He was admitting he didn’t know how to handle someone like her. That was… more honest than she’d expected.

She typed back, fingers trembling:

@SunshinyVibes: “Confusing can be good sometimes. Keeps things exciting 💕”

—

Branch read it, then dropped his head back against the couch with a groan.

Confusing can be good. No, no, no. Confusing was bad. Confusing meant risk. Confusing meant—

His phone buzzed again.

@SunshinyVibes: “Plus… first dates are basically supposed to be confusing. Like, you don’t know what to expect. But that’s part of the fun, right? 🙈🌸”

Branch choked on his water. A drop went down the wrong pipe, and he coughed so hard his eyes watered.

A date? A date?

He set the glass down and stared at the message, ears blazing so hot he was surprised the couch didn’t catch fire.

He typed. Stopped. Deleted. Typed again. Deleted. Rubbed his temples. Muttered, “Play it cool. Play it—”

His thumbs moved before his brain caught up.

@LowBattery: “…I don’t really do ‘fun.’ But… I guess I could… try.”

He pressed send. Stared at the screen like it might bite him.

The dots appeared.

@SunshinyVibes: “👀 That sounds suspiciously like a yes. Don’t worry. I promise to make it the least terrifying date of your life 💖”

Branch’s chest felt tight. His hand hovered over the phone long after the screen went dark.

He should unmatch. He should. Instead, he just stared up at the ceiling, contemplating everything in existence. 

Chapter Text

The morning sun poured through Poppy’s curtains, catching on the glitter still clinging to her hair. She sat cross-legged on her rug with her phone balanced on her knees, heart racing as she scrolled through last night’s conversation.

A date. He basically said yes. He said he’d try.

She squealed into her hands. Then, in true crisis mode, she opened the group chat.

Poppy: “Guys. Emergency meeting. Do I ask Mystery Grump out?? Or do I wait for him to ask me???”

The typing bubbles lit up immediately.

Satin:“Girl if you don’t ASK him right now—”

Chenille: “—don’t listen to Satin, let him do it. Classic romcom rule.”

Smidge: “Suplex him with confidence. Ask him out.”

Guy Diamond: “Make it a dramatic proposal with glitter cannons.”

Poppy groaned, flopping backward onto the rug. “This is not helpful!” she wailed, even though she was grinning so hard her cheeks hurt.

Her phone buzzed again.

Satin: “Okay but real talk: if he’s as shy as you say, he might never ask first.”

Chenille: “Exactly, which is why it’ll be way cuter if he works up the nerve himself. The tension! The payoff!”

Smidge: “Punch fate in the face. Take destiny into your own hands.”

Guy Diamond: “Do both. Half-ask him out and half-dare him to ask you. ✨”

Poppy sat up again, chewing on her pencil. Both. She could… sort of nudge him. A gentle push. Not too scary. Not too much. Just… sparkle him in the right direction.

She doodled “Operation: Ask or Be Asked” across the top of her journal page in giant bubble letters and underlined it three times.

“Okay,” she whispered to herself, scribbling out ideas like battle plans. “Tonight. I’ll… I’ll figure it out tonight.”

And despite the nerves fluttering in her stomach, her smile didn’t fade once.

—

The alarm blared. Branch smacked it silent and lay there staring at the ceiling.

Routine. That’s what kept things in order.
Get up. Coffee. Repairs. Ignore the world.

He did not immediately reach for his phone.
…Okay, maybe he did. But only because he wanted to clear notifications. That was it.

His thumb hovered over Twinkle.

Last night’s words glowed back at him:
Interested too 🌸✨

Branch groaned, dragging the pillow over his face. “You absolute idiot.”

It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t mean anything. He wasn’t dating. He was just… indulging in sarcastic back-and-forth with someone who somehow hadn’t gotten sick of him yet. That was all.

Still, his mind replayed every detail of the last couple days like static:

• Pink popcorn at movie night.
  
  
• Sitting in the back row.
  
  
• Her messages about the same popcorn, the same row.
  
  
• The way Poppy had teased him about texting someone while he was literally texting her.
  
  

He sat up fast, heart hammering. “No. No, no, no. That’s just coincidence.”

It had to be.
Right?

He padded into the kitchen, put the coffee on, and muttered to himself: “Statistically impossible. This village is small, sure, but not that small.”

The coffee dripped, slow and steady, filling the air. 

He was not falling for this.

He was not catching feelings.

And there was absolutely no way she was the same girl who’d shoved a bundle of streamers into his arms last night.

None.

…Right?

—

Poppy sat at her kitchen table with a half-finished muffin and a notebook open in front of her. The words “Operation: Ask or Be Asked” were circled three times, glitter pen doodles spilling into the margins — cupcakes, tiny horses, and one very dramatic “???” underlined for emphasis.

She chewed on her pencil, staring at last night’s texts. Interested too 🌸✨

Her heart still fluttered just reading it.

“Okay, Pop,” she told herself, tapping the pencil against her cheek. “You can do this. Just a little nudge. Not scary. Not too much. Just… a hint.”

Her phone buzzed with the group chat.

Satin: “Have you asked him yet?? 👀”

Chenille: “She hasn’t, I can tell. She’s overthinking.”

Smidge: “Strike now. Hesitation is weakness.”

Guy Diamond: “Make it poetic. Confess via interpretive dance.”

Poppy groaned, shoving the phone face-down. “They are no help,” she muttered, though she couldn’t stop smiling.

She scribbled in her notebook:

• Option A: Ask directly. (“Wanna meet?” 😱)
  
  
• Option B: Tease him into suggesting it.
  
  
• Option C: Glitter bomb him with courage and pray.
  
  

She doodled a cupcake next to Option C.

Her phone buzzed again. She snatched it up, heart racing.

@LowBattery: “Ugh, I literally have nothing to eat in my kitchen.”

She giggled, typing back before her nerves could stop her.

@SunshinyVibes: “Guess we’ll have to get you REAL food sometime then 😏🍕”

She stared at it, finger hovering over send. Too bold? Not bold enough?

Her heart pounded. She hit send anyway.

And then she clutched her muffin like a stress ball, whispering to herself, “Okay okay okay… now we wait.”

—

The toaster guts on Branch’s workbench were scattered across a rag. He’d just gotten into the rhythm — screwdriver, twist, replace wire — when his phone buzzed again.

He told himself not to look. He told himself it was probably a shipping update or Cooper spamming memes again.

He looked.

@SunshinyVibes:
“Guess we’ll have to get you REAL food sometime then 😏🍕”

Branch froze.

He read it once.
Twice.
Three times.

We’ll have to get you real food sometime.

WE.

His ears went hot. His stomach did a weird swoop. He set the screwdriver down, then picked it back up, then set it down again.

“This isn’t a big deal,” he muttered, pacing behind the counter. “She could mean, like, in theory. Not… not with me. Just… in general. Like… people. People should eat pizza sometimes. That’s it. That’s all.”

His phone buzzed again. He lunged for it.

@SunshinyVibes: “Don’t worry, I promise I’d let you pick the toppings 😇 (even if you’re wrong and say pineapple doesn’t belong 🙃🍍✨)”

Branch nearly dropped the phone on the floor. Toppings. Pineapple. She was talking about sharing.

He collapsed onto the stool, clutching his head. “She wants to get pizza with me. Or… she wants to get pizza with… some guy. Who just happens to be me. But she doesn’t know it’s me. Which means she wants to get pizza with… not me?”

He groaned, raking a hand through his hair.

Option A: Shut it down. Tell her no.

Option B: Deflect with sarcasm.

Option C: Say yes. (Which was not happening. Nope. Definitely not.)

His thumb hovered over the keyboard. He typed:

@LowBattery: “…Pineapple is a crime. Like popcorn. But… pizza’s not the worst idea.”

He hit send before his brain could stop him.

And then he sat there, staring at the screen, waiting for the dots to appear.

—

Poppy was halfway through frosting another tray of muffins when her phone buzzed. She nearly dropped the piping bag, leaving a glittery swirl of pink icing across the counter.

She wiped her hands on her apron and snatched the phone.

@LowBattery: “…Pineapple is a crime. Like popcorn. But… pizza’s not the worst idea.”

Her eyes went wide. Her mouth dropped open. Then she let out a squeal so high-pitched that even the muffin tin seemed to vibrate.

“He SAID YES!!” she shouted into the empty kitchen.

Immediately, her phone lit up with the squad group chat — they’d been lurking, waiting for an update.

Poppy: “GUYS. HE AGREED TO PIZZA. HE SAID IT’S NOT THE WORST IDEA. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS???”

Satin: “It means DATE NIGHT 💅”

Chenille: “Finally, some progress. I was starting to get bored.”

Smidge: “DESTINY. I’M MAKING A PROTEIN CAKE TO CELEBRATE.”

Guy Diamond: “Glitter pizzas. I’ll bring the sequins. ✨🍕”

Poppy giggled so hard she had to sit on the floor, hugging the muffin tray like it was a teddy bear.

“He doesn’t even know what he’s agreeing to,” she whispered, cheeks glowing. “But he is agreeing. That counts.”

Her thumbs tapped out a reply:

@SunshinyVibes: “Yayyy!! You won’t regret it. Pinkie promise 🤞🌸💖”

She hovered for a second, then added:

@SunshinyVibes: “...unless you actually hate fun, then maybe a pizza date is dangerous 😏”

Send.

She flopped back on the floor, covering her face with her hands, kicking her heels against the cabinets. “Okay, Operation: Ask or Be Asked is working,” she whispered to herself. “He’s halfway there.”

—

Branch had just convinced himself he could focus on rewiring the toaster when his phone buzzed again. He tugged it out of his pocket, prepared for more cupcake emojis.

Instead, he read:

@SunshinyVibes: “Yayyy!! You won’t regret it. Pinkie promise 🤞🌸💖…unless you actually hate fun, then maybe a pizza date is dangerous 😏”

His brain short-circuited.

Date.

The word practically blinked at him from the screen, neon and loud and dangerous. He felt his ears burn so hot they could’ve melted the soldering iron sitting on the bench.

“Date?” he muttered aloud, pacing in a tight circle. “No, no, no. She can’t mean date date. She meant… lowercase d. Like… dinner date. Casual. Harmless. People say that. People say that all the time.”

He stared at the message again. The heart. The sparkle. The smirking emoji.

“This is a trap,” he hissed, clutching the phone like it might bite. “She’s testing me. She’s… she’s trying to see if I’ll fold.”

He sat on the edge of the workbench, phone heavy in his hand, and typed:

@LowBattery: “…‘Date’ is a strong word.”

He stared at it, thumb hovering. Too blunt. He deleted it.

Tried again:

@LowBattery: “…Define ‘date.’”

Deleted. That was practically begging.

He groaned and scrubbed a hand through his hair until it stood on end. He needed something. Something safe. Something that didn’t scream yes please but also I’m terrified.

Finally he typed:

@LowBattery: “…If pizza comes with terms and conditions, I want to read them first.”

He hit send, shoved the phone face-down on the counter, and buried his face in his hands.

Across the room, the toaster popped on its own, startling him so badly he nearly fell off the stool.

“Great,” he muttered, glaring at the toaster. “Even the appliances are mocking me.”

The phone buzzed again. He didn’t move. Not yet.

But the word date pulsed in the back of his mind like a warning siren he couldn’t shut off.

—

Poppy was still buzzing from his half-yes when her phone lit up again.

@LowBattery: “…If pizza comes with terms and conditions, I want to read them first.”

She burst out laughing so loudly she startled herself. “He’s impossible,” she whispered, clutching her phone. “Terms and conditions? Who even says that?”

And then she had an idea.

She flipped open her glitter journal, drew a big rectangle, and scrawled at the top:

🍕 OFFICIAL PIZZA DATE AGREEMENT 🍕

Below it, she scribbled:

1. Toppings negotiable (but pineapple is totally allowed).
   
   
2. Sarcasm permitted in moderation.
   
   
3. Laughter mandatory.
   
   
4. Glitter… strongly encouraged ✨
   
   

At the bottom she doodled two signature lines:

“Signed: Sunshiny Scientist 💖”

“Signed: Mystery Grump 😒”

She snapped a picture and sent it.

@SunshinyVibes: “Here’s your contract. Please sign and return. Failure to comply will result in extra glitter on your slice 😌”

—

Branch blinked at the picture. A glitter-pen “contract.” Complete with signature lines.

He let out a strangled noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “She made… paperwork. For pizza.”

His fingers hovered. He could ignore it. He could.

…But the little doodled “Signed: Mystery Grump 😒” was staring at him like a challenge.

With a resigned sigh, he grabbed a scrap of paper, scrawled his grumpy face emoji in pen, snapped a photo, and sent it back.

@LowBattery: “Fine. Signed. But I refuse the glitter clause.”

—

The reply came with a blurry photo of a lopsided little “>:|” drawn in pen.

Poppy burst out laughing, clutching her pillow. “He SIGNED it! He ACTUALLY signed it!!”

Her cheeks glowed as she typed back:

@SunshinyVibes: “Yesss! It’s official! Mystery Grump and Sunshiny Scientist’s First Pizza Date™ 🎉🍕✨”

She hit send, heart thundering, already imagining what he might look like across a table, scowling at pineapple on his half of the pizza while secretly smiling.

Chapter Text

Her phone buzzed against the notebook. She shot upright so fast pom-poms went flying.

@LowBattery:
“…So, what exactly are these pizza terms and conditions I apparently signed?”

Her heart did a backflip.

She grinned, scribbled “STEP ONE: Secure location” across her page, and typed back:

@SunshinyVibes:
“Clause #1: Pizza must be shared in person. No take-backs 😌🍕✨”

“Was that him?” Chenille asked.

“She’s smiling so hard her face might break,” Satin whispered.

“She’s in LOVE,” Guy Diamond sang, showering glitter on all of them.

Smidge dropped a beanbag with a thud. “He’s not gonna survive her.”

Poppy hugged her phone to her chest, cheeks glowing brighter than the glitter.

“Tonight,” she whispered to herself. “Tonight I drop the biggest hint yet.”

—

The blender was in pieces across the workbench when Branch’s phone buzzed. He glanced down.

@SunshinyVibes: “Clause #1: Pizza must be shared in person. No take-backs 😌🍕✨”

Branch’s ears went red so fast it startled him. “In person?” he muttered, pacing a tight circle in the bunker. “No take-backs? That’s… that’s—”

He stopped himself. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, but before he could type anything, the shop bell jingled.

He flinched like he’d been caught.

“Hi, Branch!”

Poppy bounded in, sunshine in sneakers, clutching something behind her back. Glitter trailed in her wake like it was magnetically attracted to chaos.

He groaned. “What now?”

“Relax, it’s not broken this time.” She slid something across the counter. “It’s just a thank-you card. For, y’know… always saving movie night. And the snack machine. And basically everything.”

Branch blinked. The card was pink cardstock, covered in doodled hearts and tiny stars, the words ‘Thank You for Always Fixing Our Stuff 💖✨’ sprawled across it in bright, bubbly handwriting.

“You didn’t have to—” He stopped. His throat went tight.

Because the loops of the letters. The sparkly ink. The little swirly flourishes in the corners.

It was the same handwriting.

Exactly the same handwriting as the pizza “Terms & Conditions” contract she’d sent him last night.

His chest seized.

“Branch?” Poppy tilted her head, smiling. “You okay?”

He snapped the card shut so quickly a puff of glitter flew up into his face. “Fine,” he croaked. “Totally fine.”

She grinned. “Good! Well… see you later, hero!”

The bell jingled as she skipped out.

Branch sank onto his stool, staring at the thank-you card like it might sprout teeth and bite him.

It was her.

It was her.

SunshinyVibes wasn’t some random bubbly stranger.

It was Poppy.

The girl who drove him nuts. The girl who never stopped showing up at his shop with broken things and too-bright smiles. The girl who made his ears burn just by saying thank you.

His phone buzzed on the counter.

@SunshinyVibes: “Clause #2 coming soon 😏🌸✨”

Branch groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Of course it’s her. And of course I’m falling for her.”

The thank-you card sparkled back at him, undeniable, sparkling smugly under the shop light.

Branch glared at it. He’d already tried shoving it in a drawer. He’d already flipped it face-down. But every time he glanced over, the pink glitter seemed to wink at him, daring him to admit the truth.

It was the same handwriting. The same loops. The same glitter pen. The same ridiculous little stars doodled in the corners.

He reached for his phone with a sigh. The contract photo was still there in their chat, and he pulled it up, setting it side-by-side with the real card.

Identical.

His stomach dropped straight through the floor.

“It’s her,” he whispered. “It’s… it’s actually her.”

The girl who was always barging into his shop. The one who drove him absolutely up the wall. The one who never took no for an answer.

The same girl who had just—what?—asked him on a pizza date last night?

The same girl who made him laugh so hard his chest ached?

The same girl who told him he was “worth the effort.”

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. His brain was screaming two completely different things at once:

• Abort. Delete. Unmatch. Move to a cave.
  
  
• She’s Poppy. And she likes you back.
  
  

No, she liked @Lowbattery back. She didn’t know he was Branch. His phone buzzed again. He snatched it up, even though he knew exactly what he’d find.

@SunshinyVibes: “Clause #2: You’re not allowed to hide behind excuses anymore 😌✨”

Branch’s breath caught. His thumb hovered uselessly above the keyboard. She’s here every day. She’s right there in front of me. And I’ve been hiding behind a cartoon stick this whole time.

He set the phone down, stared at the card again, then pushed back from the workbench and began pacing.

Did he want this? Because if it was Poppy — if it had always been Poppy — then…

His chest tightened. A mix of dread, hope, and something warmer than he knew what to do with.

“…I’m not built for this,” he muttered. “I’m not—”

Branch’s chest tightened. His ears twitched like they wanted to retreat into his head.

She’s literally telling me to stop hiding. From her. About her. While she doesn’t even know it’s her.

He opened their thread, thumb trembling, and typed:

@LowBattery: “I think I know who you are.”

He stared at the words. His heart hammered. Deleted them.

Typed again:

@LowBattery: “Maybe we should just meet and see what happens.”

Deleted that too. Too direct. Too terrifying.

He tried again.

@LowBattery: “…What if you regret it?”

He sat frozen, staring at the half-finished sentence. Then he sighed and backspaced until the screen was blank.

“Idiot,” he muttered, setting the phone down. “She’s better off not knowing it’s you.”

The phone buzzed again. He didn’t pick it up this time. Not right away.

But the glittery card caught the light, winking at him from the workbench, as if it knew he’d never be able to resist forever.

—

Poppy sat cross-legged at her desk, the thank-you card glitter dust still clinging to her fingers. She’d just sent “Clause #2” and was waiting, phone in hand, heart hammering.

The typing bubble appeared. Her pulse spiked.

Then it vanished.

She blinked. “Wait—what? No, no, no, come back.”

The bubble appeared again. Vanished again.

She groaned, sliding down in her chair until she was nearly under the desk. “Oh my gosh, he’s writing something. He’s deleting something. What is he deleting?!”

Her phone stayed stubbornly quiet.

Poppy kicked her legs, restless. She’d been so bold — the whole “date” thing — maybe it had been too much. Maybe she’d scared him away.

“Nope,” she said, sitting up, determination snapping into her spine. “Not letting him vanish into the void. Not on my watch.”

Her thumbs flew.

@SunshinyVibes: “Hellooo? This contract is legally binding, you know. Don’t make me hire a team of squirrels to enforce it 🐿️📜✨”

She sent it before she could second-guess herself.

Then, a beat later, because she couldn’t help herself:

@SunshinyVibes: “…Unless you’re already drafting your own terms. In which case 👀 spill.”

She hit send and immediately pressed her palms to her cheeks, grinning despite herself.

“Too much? Probably too much,” she whispered, but the smile wouldn’t leave her face.

The minutes stretched. Poppy watched the little “delivered” check mark under her last message… and nothing else.

No dots. No reply. No snarky comeback.

She chewed her lip, hugging her knees to her chest. “Okay. Okay, maybe he fell asleep. Or maybe his phone died. Or maybe—” She cut herself off, the grin she’d been wearing all morning starting to wobble.

What if she’d pushed too far? What if “date” had sent him running? What if Mystery Grump really didn’t want anything more than late-night banter?

Her stomach knotted. She grabbed her phone and started typing, erasing, typing again. Finally, she pressed send.

@SunshinyVibes: “heyyy so, um… if the whole pizza thing was too much, I don’t want to pressure you. really. we don’t have to meet up.”

Her heart hammered. She typed again, faster this time:

@SunshinyVibes: “And if you don’t like me back, that’s okay too. 💖 I still really like talking to you. You make my day better. Just wanted you to know that.”

She set the phone down on the bedspread and immediately buried her face in her pillow. “Oh no oh no oh no… why did I say that.”

But under the panic was something softer, steadier. A little seed of truth she couldn’t take back.

And maybe she didn’t want to.

—

The shop was quiet except for the tick-tick-tick of the cooling toaster. Branch sat hunched on his stool, staring at the glittery thank-you card like it was a piece of evidence in some crime he couldn’t solve.

His phone buzzed once. Then again.

He didn’t want to look. He looked anyway.

@SunshinyVibes: “heyyy so, um… if the whole pizza thing was too much, I don’t want to pressure you. really. we don’t have to meet up.”

Another buzz.

@SunshinyVibes: “And if you don’t like me back, that’s okay too. 💖 I still really like talking to you. You make my day better. Just wanted you to know that.”

Branch’s chest clenched so hard it almost hurt. He read the words twice. Three times.

If you don’t like me back, that’s okay.

His throat felt tight, like someone had stuffed the thank-you card right down into it.

“She actually thinks—” He stopped himself, jaw locking. His ears twitched violently, like they were trying to shout what his mouth wouldn’t.

How could anyone not like her?

She was too much, sure. Loud and glittery and exhausting. But she was also… sunshine. She was the reason the projector worked. The reason movie night even happened. The reason he… smiled at his phone before coffee every morning. She was also the one person who had never stopped showing up. The one who made him laugh when he swore he’d forgotten how.

And now she thought she wasn’t likable. That maybe he didn’t want her around. The thought made him feel sick.

He picked up his phone, thumbs flying, then froze.

@LowBattery: “I do like you.”

He stared at the words. His heart slammed against his ribs. His finger hovered over the send button.

Then he backspaced until the screen was empty.

He tried again.

@LowBattery: “You don’t have to doubt that. Trust me.”

He hovered. Deleted it.

Groaning, he shoved the phone away like it had burned him. “I can’t. I can’t say it. Not like this.”

But the card on the workbench glimmered in the corner of his eye. The pink swirls matched the photo on his screen exactly. The truth was already staring him in the face.

His walls creaked. Hairline cracks spreading through the concrete he’d poured around himself years ago.

“…Don’t you dare give up on me,” he whispered into the empty shop. “Not you.”

@LowBattery: “…I don’t hate the idea.”

He finally typed. Short. Honest. Manageable.

He hovered over the send button so long the screen dimmed. He tapped it back to life, muttered, “You’re an idiot,” and pressed send before he could change his mind.

The message went out. Three dots popped up almost instantly. His ears burned. His heart hammered.

For once, the wall around him didn’t feel like protection. It felt like a cage.

Chapter Text

He set the phone down, stood, paced, sat again. The card glimmered in the corner of his vision, the same glitter pen loops as the contract photo. There was no denying it anymore.

And she’d just written, If you don’t like me back, that’s okay. I still like talking to you.

Like she honestly thought someone — him — wouldn’t like her.

The thought made him feel sick.

He picked the phone back up. Typed, deleted. Typed again. Deleted. His reflection in the screen looked just as panicked as he felt.

Finally, he forced himself to stop overthinking.

Just say it. Just once.

His thumbs moved.

@LowBattery:
“…I need to tell you something. I do know who you are.”

He stared. His pulse thundered. He almost backed out.

Instead, he pressed send.

The message whooshed away.

For three whole seconds, there was nothing.

Then—

The typing bubble appeared.

Branch dropped the phone onto the workbench and braced his hands on either side of the glittery thank-you card, breathing hard.

There was no going back now.

“…Doomed,” he whispered.

And this time, he wasn’t sure if he meant it as a warning… or a hope.

The phone was a spotlight in the dim shop. Four words glowed back at him:

@SunshinyVibes: “Then who am I? 👀”

Branch’s stomach flipped. He could almost hear her voice saying it — teasing, sing-song, way too bright for this hour.

He rubbed his temples, muttering to himself. “She’s daring you. You don’t have to take the bait. Just… make a joke. Say she’s someone else. Get out of this.”

His thumbs moved anyway.

Draft 1: “You’re… probably my dentist.”

Delete. Dumb.

Draft 2: “You’re Poppy.”

He froze. Stared at it. His chest ached like someone was sitting on him.

Backspace, backspace, backspace.

Draft 3: “You remind me of Poppy.”

Delete. Too cowardly.

He put the phone down. Pushed away from the workbench. Paced three steps, turned, came back. The thank-you card was still sitting there, glitter winking at him like it knew.

His walls creaked.

Branch sat back down, shoulders hunched, thumbs trembling. This was it.

@LowBattery: “You’re Poppy.”

He stared at the screen for a full ten seconds, pulse pounding in his ears.

Send.

The word shot off, tiny and irreversible.

Immediately, his breath caught. He shoved the phone face-down on the counter, then yanked his hood up like it could hide him from the truth.

“…you’ve officially lost it,” he muttered. “She’s gonna laugh. Or run. Or both. You’re done, Branch.”

The phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn’t move.

But his heart was already slamming against his ribs, waiting

—

Poppy was still buzzing from the contract triumph, pacing laps around the community center’s empty hall with her phone clutched in both hands. The chairs were all stacked, the popcorn machine finally unplugged, and everyone else had gone home. Only the faint smell of butter and sugar hung in the air.

Her phone buzzed.

She stopped mid-step. Her heart kicked against her ribs as she opened the thread.

@LowBattery:
“You’re Poppy.”

She blinked at the screen. Her brain stuttered. She read it once. Twice. Ten times.

“You’re… Poppy?” she whispered out loud, like maybe she’d misread it. But no — there it was, black and white on the glowing screen.

Her whole face went hot.

Her heart did a full-on cartwheel.

Her thumbs flew.

@SunshinyVibes: “😱😱😱 you actually guessed??”

Buzz.

@LowBattery: “Didn’t guess. I know.”

She gasped so loudly it echoed in the empty rec hall. Her knees went weak, and she plopped into the nearest folding chair, clutching the phone like it was spun from glass.

He knew. He knew it was her.

And he hadn’t run. He hadn’t said “no thanks.” He hadn’t disappeared. He’d told her. He’d chosen to tell her.

Her eyes stung in the best possible way. She scrambled to type through her giddy tears.

@SunshinyVibes: “Okay but wait… you like me?? Like… me me?? 😳💖✨”

She hovered, then hit send with a squeak. Her heart was pounding so hard she was sure anyone within five miles could hear it.

She didn’t even realize she’d jumped out of her chair until she was halfway to the door, phone clutched in one hand, thank-you card glitter still stuck to her fingers.

She spun in a circle, squealing. “Oh my gosh ohmygosh ohmyGOSH.”

Her smile was so wide it hurt, but she didn’t care. She had to know.

Poppy’s message hung in the thread, glowing back at her:

@SunshinyVibes: “Okay but wait… you like me?? Like… me me?? 😳💖✨”

Her fingers trembled where they clutched the phone. She barely remembered how to breathe.

The dots appeared. Vanished. Came back again.

She bit her lip, bouncing on the balls of her feet in the empty rec hall. “Come on, Mystery Grump. Don’t leave me hanging.”

Finally—

@LowBattery: “…Yeah. I like you. You. Not just the ‘texting you’ version. The real you.”

Her breath caught. She squealed into her free hand, spinning in a little circle, glitter still shaking loose from her fingers.

Then the screen buzzed again.

@LowBattery: “And… my name’s Branch. In case you didn’t already know.”

Poppy froze. Her knees went weak.

“BRANCH?!” she squeaked so loudly it echoed across the empty hall.

Her whole body vibrated like a soda bottle about to explode.

Her heart pounded so wildly she thought she might burst. She didn’t even type a reply — her legs were already moving, carrying her straight toward the door.

“Branch,” she whispered, laughing breathlessly as she bolted into the night. “It’s Branch.”

—

The words were out there. Floating in the digital void where he could never take them back.

Branch shoved the phone onto the workbench and dragged both hands down his face. “You’re an idiot,” he muttered. “A complete—what were you thinking?”

The phone stayed dark.

No reply.

One minute.

Two.

His stomach dropped. His ears twitched. “She’s horrified. She’s laughing. She’s showing her friends right now—‘Hey guys, turns out Mystery Grump is Branch, can you believe it?’”

He groaned and dropped his forehead onto the workbench. The glittery thank-you card sparkled smugly beside his elbow.

“Should’ve stayed anonymous,” he muttered into the wood. “Should’ve kept your mouth shut. You’ve ruined it. You’ve—”

The shop door slammed open with a BANG.

Branch shot upright so fast he nearly tipped the stool over. His heart leapt into his throat. “WHAT—”

“BRANCH!!!”

Poppy practically burst into the shop, cheeks flushed, hair flying, phone clutched in one hand. She was glowing like someone had set off fireworks under her skin.

Branch’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. He made a strangled noise somewhere between a squeak and a groan.

“Wh—how—” He pointed helplessly at her phone, then at the shop door. “You—?? Here???”

Poppy beamed, bouncing on her toes, breathless with excitement. “It’s YOU.”

Branch’s heart slammed against his ribs. His ears burned scarlet. And for the first time in his life, he had absolutely no idea whether he should run for the hills… or smile back.

Poppy all but skidded to a stop in front of the counter, glitter trailing from her hair like sparks off a firework. Her chest heaved with excitement, her phone still glowing in her hand.

“It’s you. It’s YOU. I knew you were funny underneath all that grumpy muttering!” she blurted, her words tumbling out in a breathless rush. “Ohmygosh, Branch, you’re Mystery Grump. You signed my pizza contract. You—”

She stopped herself, clapping both hands over her mouth. Her eyes went wide.

“Sorry. Too much.” She sucked in a breath, forcing herself to lower her voice. “I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

Her hands slid down to her chest, pressing over her racing heart. “I just… I’m really happy it’s you. Like—really, really happy. Because all this time I thought I was falling for some stranger, but it turns out I was falling for…” She smiled, soft and glowing. “…my Branch.”

Her throat tightened a little, but she pushed through with a laugh. “And don’t try to tell me you’re not my Branch, because you totally are. You always have been.”

Poppy took one careful step closer, letting the silence breathe, letting him see that she wasn’t going to barrel him over with sparkles and squeals. Her smile stayed, but softer now.

“You could’ve kept it a secret,” she said gently. “You didn’t have to tell me. But you did. And that means more than you think.”

Her phone buzzed in her hand, but she ignored it completely. Every bit of her focus was on him — on the stunned, wide-eyed troll sitting behind the counter with glitter dusting his sleeves and disbelief in his eyes.

Poppy tilted her head, warmth pouring out of her grin. “So… hi, Mystery Grump.”

Branch sat frozen on the stool, every nerve in his body firing at once. Poppy was right there — cheeks flushed, eyes shining, smile soft and steady — saying things that made his brain short-circuit.

Really happy it’s you. Falling for my Branch.

His mouth opened. No sound came out. He coughed, tried again.
“I—uh—wh—you—”

Smooth. Real smooth.

He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, ears burning hot enough to fry circuits. “You… shouldn’t… be this… okay with it,” he finally blurted.

Poppy blinked. “What?”

Branch waved vaguely at the air between them, words spilling faster than he could stop them. “I mean, I’m not—look at me. I’m not… charming. Or glittery. Or—whatever. You could’ve matched with anyone, anyone, and you’re saying you’re happy it’s—” He jabbed a thumb into his own chest. “—me?”

His voice cracked on the last word. He winced.

Poppy’s grin widened, but she didn’t laugh. She just leaned a little closer, tilting her head like he was something fragile. “Yes,” she said simply. “You.”

Branch’s throat went dry. His hands fumbled for something — anything — to do, finally closing around the glittery thank-you card on the workbench. He held it up like evidence.

“This,” he stammered. “This is—you. Too much. Bright. Glitter. It’s…” He trailed off, staring at the sparkles catching the light. His voice dropped, softer. “…And I kept it.”

Silence stretched. He realized what he’d admitted. His ears went scarlet.

“I—uh—I mean—”

Poppy’s smile softened even further. She reached out, fingertips brushing the edge of the card. “I’m glad you did.”

Branch’s chest clenched. For once, he couldn’t think of a single sarcastic thing to say.

All he could do was stare at her and think, wildly, I’m in so much trouble.

Branch clutched the thank-you card like a shield, glitter catching in the cracks of his calloused fingers. His mouth was dry, his chest too tight, but the words came anyway — rough, uneven, tripping over each other.

“You don’t get it,” he muttered, staring down at the card instead of her. “You could’ve matched with anyone. Someone who actually… fits you. Someone who isn’t…” He gestured vaguely at himself, hunched shoulders, oil-stained hands, the permanent scowl carved into his face. “…this.”

He risked a glance up. Poppy was watching him, her smile still soft, patient. It made his stomach twist.

Branch’s words tumbled faster, almost panicked. “I mean, come on. You’re—you’re you. Glitter and sunshine and pink popcorn disasters. And I’m…” He shook his head, jaw tight. “…I’m the guy who tells you you’re too loud and hides in the back row.”

His throat caught. He forced the last part out, quieter than before. “Why would you pick me?”

Silence pooled between them, thick enough that he almost wished she would laugh, or roll her eyes, or say “you’re right.” Anything to prove what he already believed — that this was a mistake.

But she didn’t. She just stood there, hands clasped in front of her, looking at him like he was the only troll in the room. Like he was worth waiting for.

Branch’s ears burned. He gripped the card tighter, glitter smearing against his thumb. He hated how shaky his voice sounded when he whispered, “You don’t have to.”

The shop was quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge. Poppy stood across from him, her eyes wide and steady, her hands clasped loosely in front of her. For once, she didn’t rush to fill the silence with chatter. She just let it hang — until she stepped forward.

“I know I don’t have to,” she said softly.

Branch blinked, throat tight, fingers clenched around the thank-you card like a lifeline.

Poppy tilted her head, smiling — not her usual dazzling beam, but something smaller, gentler, made just for him. “I want to.”

His chest seized. He stared at her, words caught somewhere between his ribs and his mouth.

She went on, her voice warm but steady. “You’re grumpy and stubborn and you roll your eyes at half the things I say. But you also fix everything that breaks. You stay, even when you pretend you won’t. You listen, even when you act like you don’t care. And…” Her cheeks pinked, but she didn’t look away. “…I like you. I really, really like you, Branch.”

He swallowed hard, ears burning, mind spinning. She wanted him. Not some idea of him. Not some anonymous username. Him.

The thank-you card slipped from his hands, fluttering back onto the workbench. Branch’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “…You mean that?”

Poppy’s smile deepened, soft as sunrise. “Every word.”

Branch sat frozen, words still tangled in his throat. His hands hovered uncertainly, as if he wasn’t sure whether to fold them, hide them, or build a wall with them.

Poppy just watched him for a moment. She didn’t rush. She let the quiet stretch, drinking in his wide eyes, the way his ears twitched like he was caught between fight and flight.

Then she smiled — small, deliberate, steady. And she reached out.

Her fingers brushed his, light as a whisper. When he didn’t pull away, she gently laced her hand with his, grounding him.

Branch stared at their joined hands like he’d never seen skin before. His pulse jumped under her touch, his breath shallow.

“See?” Poppy said softly, her thumb tracing the edge of his knuckle. “Not scary. Just… us.”

His throat worked around words he couldn’t quite say. But he didn’t let go.

For the first time that night, he let himself breathe.

For a long moment he just blinked at her, like his brain was buffering. Poppy could practically see him running through every possible response and rejecting them all. His ears twitched, his mouth opened and closed, and she felt the tiniest flutter of pride at having gotten him this far.

So she smiled — not the huge, glitter-explosion smile, but the quiet kind. “Which means… you know what that makes Clause Three, right?”

Branch blinked again. “Clause… three?”

Poppy flipped open her notebook and scribbled furiously, then turned it toward him.

Clause 3:
If both parties like each other, an Official Pizza Date™ must occur.

She tapped the page with her glitter pen. “It’s the law now. Sorry, I don’t make the rules—oh wait, I totally do.” She grinned, but softer this time, trying not to barrel him over. “So… guess we’re going on a date?”

His jaw tightened. His ears went pink. “You can’t just—” He broke off when she leaned in, eyes sparkling, as if daring him to argue.

Poppy laughed softly. “You already signed the contract, Branch. Don’t think I didn’t see your little 😒 signature.”

He groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “Why do you always do this?”

“Do what?” she asked, tilting her head, innocent as could be.

“Turn everything into… glitter and smiles and—” His voice caught. He looked down at their still-joined hands. “And make me… want to say yes.”

Poppy’s smile gentled. She squeezed his hand, just once. “Because I want to.”

And this time, she didn’t add an emoji. She just let it sit there — quiet and certain, like her fingers curled around his.

—

Mini-Epilogue

The next evening, Branch stood outside the pizzeria with a takeout box balanced against his hip. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten here. One minute he was swearing to himself he wouldn’t go, the next he was muttering about crust thickness and ordering half plain cheese, half pineapple — because of course she’d fight him on it if he didn’t.

The box was warm against his hands. Too warm. His palms were sweaty, his ears twitching. He looked down at his phone for the millionth time.

@LowBattery: “…I’m here.”

The screen was quiet. No dots. He tried not to hope, not to expect—

“BRANCH!!”

He turned just in time to see a blur of pink hair bounding down the sidewalk toward him, waving both arms like she was hailing a parade float. She skidded to a stop right in front of him, cheeks flushed from running, grinning so wide it made his stomach twist.

“You actually came!” she gasped, hands clapping together. “Clause Four is REAL. We’re really doing this. We’re on a pizza date!”

The word made his ears flame, but he couldn’t help it — his mouth twitched upward, just a fraction. He tried to smother it, but Poppy’s eyes lit up like he’d just told her the funniest joke in the world.

She reached out, tugging gently at his sleeve. “C’mon, Mystery Grump. Before your half gets cold.”

Branch let her pull him toward the door, muttering under his breath, “Still think pineapple on pizza should be a punishable offense.”

Poppy giggled, leaning in close enough that he could feel the warmth of her shoulder brushing his. “Good thing I’m the judge, jury, and glitter cannon around here.”

He rolled his eyes, but the tiny smile stayed put.