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Branch was nothing if not careful.
Careful was what had gotten him this far, careful is what wisely prodded his mind to tell him when it was okay to use his voice for an opinion that wasn’t asked for. Careful is what let him know that the answer was ‘never’. Not when it came to Singe.
He remembered little about him before the days of their boy band, just that he’d been a constant in Dee’s life, and by extension the rest of theirs. His memories of him were murky at best, and he couldn’t quite remember how he’d even gotten involved with their family - just that at this point, he’d basically lived with them since the start. At least, that was the case for him. Too young to really remember anything, maybe his brothers would’ve known more.
But careful taught him not to ask.
Another day of practice, another frustrating argument quickly cut off, yet simultaneously sparked, by Singe before Branch ducked his head and left the mansion. It wasn’t your typical pop troll pod, Singe said they deserved a bigger place to fit them all. Branch didn’t necessarily complain about it, a pod was far more dangerous than their stable, grounded home, even if it was…
Colder.
Usually he’d head for the basement, but he found himself wanting to be more away at the moment. It was something he recognised his brothers didn’t often do, either because they couldn’t or because they didn’t want to. Maybe the answer depends on the brother.
They all had their stage fronts, the personalities they were associated with. Floyd was the sensitive one, Clay was the fun one, Bruce the heartthrob, and Dee?
Dee was a lot of things. The star, the leader, the glue that held them together - at least, the glue for the public. Some called him the charmer, others the ‘face’. Whatever it was, it was infinitely better than Branch’s title.
‘The grump’.
He was aware of its benefits. They had to keep up appearances in public even when they weren’t performing - all about the illusion, Singe had told them. Breaking it would cause their ratings to plummet - scandalous, somehow. Branch at the time thought it was beneficial to have the personality that let him somewhat be himself, it was certainly an upgrade to his ‘the baby’ title he had when he was a little kid.
But that was before he realised how utterly unpopular the concept was.
Sure, he was popular by right of being in Brozone, but amongst the pop trolls they couldn’t get behind the idea of someone being so… him. When he’d gotten his new title, he’d been naive and hadn’t thought much of it, but now he couldn’t help but wonder what the purpose of it was. Singe said it was good to have someone more grouchy in a group; helped with ‘dialogue’ and ‘improvised scripts’. Someone needed to be the black sheep, the one the others could push down so they could shine more, and that someone was Branch.
Branch scowled to himself as he caught sight of Pop Troll Village in the distance. The walk between the Brozone Mansion and the village was about an hour, and each time he couldn’t help but question the inconvenience of needing to go this far just to be near civilization. He wasn’t a social butterfly by any stretch of the imagination, he quite liked the isolation personally, but he also liked safety. Pop trolls were loud and obnoxious, sure, but a village meant easier access to alarms and doctors. More numbers meant more eyes paying attention. That was something he fundamentally appreciated and wished he could’ve had, but in the same breath…?
“Branch!”
Pop trolls were so damn annoying.
He mentally counted the seconds as his eyes rolled up, scowling to himself as a burst of pink rushed next to him with a grin that filled half her face. Poppy, princess Poppy, wearing a title that should’ve donned respect but instead was practically pointless with how she treated everyone as an equal; the textbook definition of what it meant to be a pop troll. Invasive, nosy, completely inconsiderate of one’s wants for alone time- ‘alone’ as a word didn’t exist to her, Branch was sure she’d never heard it until Branch snapped it at her a long time ago.
He hadn’t even reached Pop Troll Village yet and Poppy had already glued herself to his side, eyes wandering over him - he recalled his brothers’ words, his manager’s words too, of being nice to the princesses because it was good publicity. He tried to remind himself more than once, maybe about five or eight times when Poppy leaned a little too close.
“I knew you’d come again today! That’s why I was waiting, right there by the blue flower- I picked blue instead of pink because I think blue’s your whole, like, thing? You like blue, right? Do you like pink?” She somehow stepped closer, and Branch instinctively pulled back. “What’s your favourite colour?”
None of your business, is what he wanted to say, but Singe’s testing glare reminded him once again that he had to be patient, and despite ‘playing his personality’, he couldn’t be outright rude.
“I don’t have a favourite,” he answered her as earnestly as he could, because that was the truth. No one colour meant more to him than others did, they all simply existed and served their purpose as knowledge and information more than preference.
Poppy looked astonished.
“How can you not have a favourite? I do! It’s-“
“Pink?” he asked almost (definitely) sarcastically, and Poppy laughed.
“No, I like teal!” She explained, then motioned down to her dress. “See? I wear teal all the time. It’s blue and green mixed together, so I guess I like those, too!”
“By that logic, yellow would be up there because mixing it with blue is how green is made.”
Poppy paused, then thought it over as she skipped alongside Branch.
“I like yellow,” she stated. “I like every colour, but teal’s my favourite. And blue. And green.”
Wonderful. Branch couldn’t begin to express how much he didn’t want to listen to a conversation as dull as this. What were they, five? Who even asked about favourite colours at their big age?
“Whatcha coming to the village for this time?” She asked, eyes flicking down to the sketchbook he had clutched to his chest. “Is it art? Oooh! I love artists! I can show you my scrapbooks if you show me your-“
“No.”
“Right! Yeah, that’d be stupid,” she laughed tightly, and Branch's ear twitched - catching her throwing her own book over her shoulder from his peripherals, listening to her continued mumbles of ‘stupid, stupid…!’ as she smacked the side of her head before she lifted her chin. “Who even likes art, right? It’s so…!”
He didn’t say a word, mostly because he was curious if she’d actually commit to bad mouthing something, but her expression looked twisted. As if it physically pained her to be mean about anything.
“It’s so…! Itself! Which is perfectly fine, I like things that are themselves- speaking of!” She jumped in front of him then which forced him to stop, pointing a finger towards him. “I know you’re not really yourself!”
What.
She didn’t falter at his deadpan look, only looking more determined than before. “I read about it actually, yeah, know all about the rules for idols - you’re just pretending to be grumpy because you have to, right?”
Branch didn’t answer her question, instead sincerely asking: “You read?”
She wilted briefly, then jumped back full force with a smile so bright Branch could practically hear the euphoric ensemble playing behind her. “Yes! And I know deep down, there’s a happy troll down there just begging to be himself! And I want to be the someone you can be yourself around, I want to be the troll that makes you think: Hey, maybe it’s okay to let loose every once in a while, I wanna be tha- hey, where are you going?”
She stopped mid speech as soon as she noticed he’d already been walking away, and quickly scrambled after him.
Branch grumbled. “I’m as grumpy as I come across, so your wants are already pointless.”
“Oh come on,” she slowed down her pace as she hunched over, only forcing herself to speed up when she realised Branch wouldn’t wait for her. “You’re a pop troll! Pop trolls are happy! All your brothers are happy! Why would you be an odd one out for no reason? Your stage persona is literally ‘the grumpy one’! I know you’re not actually that grumpy!”
Except he was. He was grumpy in all the ways pop trolls never were. Probably a better case for Clay to be even grumpier, but he had his reasons that revolved around the band. Branch was simply like this.
The idea that pop trolls couldn’t be like that, though, at least according to Poppy, rubbed him the wrong way. Was there something off with him? Was he supposed to be happier? Had he just accepted this persona and never developed his happiness meter the way the others had? The idea of spending every night like it was a party sounded exhausting, and he couldn’t bring himself to even entertain the idea of trying it just to see. Music was rather grating these days, anyway.
His hair extended outwards as it latched onto a tree, before he yanked himself up to land on top of it, ignoring Poppy’s ‘hey, wait!’ from behind. He looked over his shoulder at her with a glare.
“Stop following me.”
He shouldn’t have said it. He should’ve made an effort.
But Poppy was too… Poppy.
And evidently, Branch was too ‘Branch’.
He leapt onto the next tree, and the next, and kept making distance until they were well and truly apart.
It was better that way. Poppy could go back to her friends that actually cared and leave him alone to make designs he shouldn’t be making.
‘Alone’ was what he was good at.