A/N: Taking place before TBT

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Branch scowled.

All of them - every single one of them out there, dancing till their legs would give out on them and singing till their voices got sore - was a fool.

It seemed to him now that almost every party that happened in Pop Village was progressively getting bigger, louder, and crazier. And one day, it was going to be the inevitable demise of the town they created away from the treacherous creatures who wanted to eat them.

The Bergens are coming! AHHH!

They'd all thought he was the crazy one whenever he burst in screaming about the dangers they were blind to, hoping they would get a wakeup call and side with him.

But nobody ever did.

Branch clenched his fists, gripping the sticks he was holding tighter. This whole shindig was surefire Bergen bait. That banner hanging up in the trees may as well be reading HERE WE ARE! BON APPETIT!

But, it didn't. The banner that was there instead read HAPPY BIRTHDAY PRINCESS POPPY!

From his vantage point up higher than the clearing that was below, he could see everything that was happening to celebrate the future Queen's occasion. Balloons of all colors had been blown up and were strung at the corners of a large table in which Trolls had been placing presents on. Accumulated there already were at least two dozen, big, small, wide and short with fun wrapping paper designs of stars and sparkles. Much of the adults who attended were chatting idly with each other, while the kids were playing games and busting out some moves to the music that was playing on the boombox.

Branch spotted Princess Poppy almost instantly in the crowd. She was always so distinguishable, not only by her pink color scheme, but also by her perky, peppy attitude. He never saw her without a smile on her face. It was as though that was the only expression she knew how to make, as she laughed and sang with her friends.

He snorted. He'd known about this party for weeks. Months even. While he wasn't involved in the town's happenings and barely interacted with anybody (aside from a grumble at any greeting that was sent his way), he had heard the talk buzzing around about it whenever he went to go gather supplies. Poppy herself had invited him to it. She was chipper, grinning at him from ear to ear and presenting the invitation, which, as it always did, shot out its burst of glitter in his face after a little jingle rang out. That invitation should be long gone, torn and rotting in the garbage by now. But, it was in fact sitting behind a curtain in his room, secretly hidden away from the eyes and ears of anybody, along with a collection of many other identical invitations that she'd given him for a variety of different occasions.

Suddenly, a strange feeling overcame him as he thought about those invitations, and the parties that he'd missed. Would it have been so bad if he had attended one of them? There was a time, Branch could remember, in his memory where he would've accepted. If things had been different, maybe he could be there right now, celebrating alongside her.

Maybe ALL of us could have been friends...

Branch shook his head, frowning and pushing those ridiculous what-if scenarios out of his mind and refusing to address who the 'All' was by individual name.

But it seemed that the universe didn't want him to brush it off so easily.

Right as Branch turned to start making his way out of there with his bundle of sticks, he heard Party Rock Anthem conclude, and an all-too familiar tune take its place.

"Da-da, da-da-da,

Da-da-da, da-da-da..."

Several things happened at once. Poppy and a number of her girl friends squealed a scream, the party's DJ turned up the volume of the song a few notches, and Branch's blood ran cold.

Oh, please, no. Not this song....

"Well, there she goes! On the floor let's do this no more talking,

Did anybody notice? The energy just shifted when we dropped it!"

Poppy sang along, grabbing her friends - Cooper, Smidge, Satin and Chenille, as Branch remembered that they were called - and going through the dance moves with close accuracy to the way it was meant to be performed.

"I don't flex but I might,

Groove about you take flight,

Cuz' the night is young and the music's on,

And we got love on sight!"

Another one of Poppy's friends added their voice to the sing-along, and Branch rolled his eyes when he saw who it was.

"The sky was the limit,

Now the stars where we're living,

It's the vibe when we're in it,

It'll blow your mind!"

Creek, in truth, was not as great of a singer as he thought he was. The others didn't seem to think so, though, and applauded him.

"Oh, I just looove BroZone SO MUCH!" Poppy gushed when the song got to its chorus. "I wonder what The Baby's voice sounds like now..." She hummed, tapping a finger to her chin as if trying to picture it.

Branch's guess would be as good as hers on behalf of that question, despite the fact that he himself had been 'The Baby' of BroZone. But he was far gone from the little Troll who used to dance around in diapers and pink-tinted glasses. In fact, no musical note had ever come out of his throat for many, many years. This last part the Trolls of the village knew. But the first part, about his band days and the boys he had once called his brothers, were as much of a secret as Poppy's hidden invitations.

Smidge shrugged. "Who knows! I wish I knew where they all went off to," she sighed in her gruff little voice.

"Same here!" Satin and Chenille said at the same time. Then the former turned to the latter and asked, "Chenille, remember when you used to write letters to the 'Win a Date with Spruce' contest even though they no longer do it?"

"Satin!" the fashionista twin exclaimed, shoving her sister on the arm while blushing. "I told you not to mention that!"

"Well, it's true!" Satin giggled.

Chenille, in an effort to change the subject, turned her attention to Poppy. "Say, Poppy, who was your favorite BroZone guy?"

Cooper, Biggie and Guy Diamond all piped up, also eager to know.

"Hey, that's a good question!" Cooper chimed.

"WhOooOo was your favorite?" Guy Diamond asked in his techno-reverby voice.

"Mr. Dinkles is dying to find out!" Biggie said, holding up his pet worm, Mr. Dinkles, who gave a little squeaky "mew!" in reply.

Branch had to perk an ear at this, his curiosity piqued for what the Pop Princess had to say.

Poppy blushed a little, thinking carefully about her answer.

"Well, um... hehe... The, um, Leader's kinda cute..."

John Dory? Branch snorted. His huge head is full of nothing but hot air!

"But you know," Poppy continued, her cheeks darkening, "so is Spruce."

Spruce? Pfft. Yeah, sure. Cute until he cheats on you, Branch thought, recalling how his second eldest brother always seemed to have a new girlfriend each week.

"Oh, but Clay always had the best dances!" she giggled, imitating the most well-known "Rusty Robot" move.

Clay's a player. He'd make it seem like things are handy-dandy, and then the next day he'll dump you and say it was just a joke all along!

"And don't get me started on Floyd!"

HA. Don't get ME started, either, he thought bitterly, subconsciously fingering the leaf vest he was wearing. It was still a little bit big on him, but, once he was a couple years older and underwent the growth spurt that seemed to hit most of the older teenage Trolls, he was sure it would fit just fine. He suddenly remembered the words that his favorite brother had told him many years back.

When you miss me, you can wear this. It'll be like I'm right here with you.

Well, Branch could see that that wasn't exactly the truth. Having Floyd there in person was not the same as wearing a vest that only carried his memory. He then thought of another untruth he was told, on the very same night.

I'll be back. I promise.

But WHEN, Floyd? Branch wished he would've asked right there and then. It'd already been over a decade since then. He needed his favorite brother's comfort more than ever, especially when their Grandma had suffered her death at the hands of a Bergen. Then another thought crept into his mind.

Did he forget about me?

It hurt Branch to think so, but it was a possibility. If Floyd was really out there, enjoying his best life and riding the high of the solo career he'd always wanted, then what use was there in leaving that behind to come back for a little brother who would just be in the way?

He wouldn't.

That's why it didn't bother Branch at knowing that he broke a promise to his brother as well.

And when you come back, we'll build our hideout!

Branch humphed. If he wasn't coming back, then there was no need to feel guilty that the hideout was already in progress.

He gathered his sticks and hurried off, not bothering to hear the rest of the conversation. Creek was saying something to Poppy, her eyes sparkling as she looked at him, a hand of his on her shoulder. Branch set his jaw, firmly clenching the sticks and finally stormed off.

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After about a half hour, the sticks had been whittled into six identical dagger-like weapons, added into his basket of other dagger-like weapons. Then, per Branch's usual routine in the evening - before he went on to eat his dinner - he made his way over to the side of his bed, plucked the feather duster that was leaning against the wall, and made his way over to the only rooms in the bunker that were not stashed to the brim with supplies.

At first glance, it would seem as though Branch had four spare bedrooms intended for guests. But Branch was not one to have company over, so that possibility would be ruled out. And the folks who would be staying in them anyhow would not be guests. They would be permanent residents.

That is, if those said brothers ever returned.

Branch looked down at the arm that was holding the featherduster, scrutinizing its grayness. Ever since the day he'd lost his vibrant blue color, his outlook in life had never been the same. Optimism was never something he had anymore. But Branch also obtained something else that became a part of his personality that day, too. And that was the initiative to always remain crazy-prepared.

Room by room he went, tidying the spaces, ensuring that the beds had crisp sheets and fresh linen, that the photo frames on the wall were straightened, and that each instrument of their interest was cleansed. John Dory's drumset was wiped down. Spruce's saxophone was polished to perfection. Clay's keyboard was rubbed till it shone. And Floyd's guitar was tuned and set, ready for action.

Branch sighed, almost feeling himself get teary-eyed. He was just about the ages of his brothers when the band had split. By this point, he'd figured he would have had his very own blue puffy jacket, and that the only thing he would have to worry about is getting over his preshow jitters.

But, nooo.

Branch sat here, waiting for something that may not happen. That little part of him was going to still fight for hope, though. Despite his parents gone, his brothers who-knew-where, his Grandma dead, his colors vanished, and his crush unrequited, Branch had to press on.

Someday, if the homecoming ever were to happen, Branch would not be caught off guard. He took out the plan for his hideout from the inner pocket of his vest. It was a little bit worn from the years, yellowed and slightly wrinkled, but still very visible. His three-year-old vision depicted in colorful blocky lettering and a handful of glitter had finally become a reality.

Now all he had to do was wait for them to come back into his life.