The car engine roared as it glided down the street. His hands were dry. His lips were sealed. His eyes laid on the road ahead but his mind was far away...just as it was this morning. "Baby, go back to bed" "No, Grama!" A red light. His eyes shot up and the car stopped jolting his torso forward against the wheel in the process. Awake. His breath came heavily and quick. Eyes darting left to right, Branch took in a few deep breaths. The light turned green. Another memory...
"Awh, Branchie! Your voice is like an angel's," the old woman praised her singing grandson who sat in the back of her car. His favorite song played on her radio and he sang along with every lyric correctly and on time. Nothing could make her smile more than hearing her grandson's voice.
A red light. The perfect time. She turned the knob making the tune ring louder to their ears. It only persuaded Branch to sing louder. The woman's dark blue eyes closed and she too parted her lips and joined his melody.
A green light. A horn. She jumped, threw her hands on the wheel, and pushed her foot upon the gas pedal. The tune didn't stop...and neither did Branch. A click was heard followed by an image flashing in her mind. "Once you'd gone there was never, never an honest word. And that was when I ruled the world," Branch sang carelessly yet fluently while getting to his feet and jumping ever so slightly. "Branch! Sit down!" "It was a wicked and wild wind, blew down the doors to let me in–"
"Branch! Don't make me stop this car! Sit down–" Rosie yelled looking in her mirror. The young boy carried on and sung in the happiest of spirits. It was as if his hearing had turned off when the music switch had been turned on. "Branch!!!" "Oh who would ever want to be the king?–" His ignorance of her calls had put her patience to an end. Her head swung around yet the car continued to move...and the scene went in slow motion. Red light. Moving car. A screeching noise. Silence.
Red. Tears threatened to fall. His breath shortened. Sniff. Breath. Then a tear. Branch wasn't one for crying but only this could make his heart sink. His grandma died that day all because he couldn't help himself from singing. He had a choice, and he chose the wrong one. Then the car stopped and his foot lifted off the gas pedal. He had pulled up at the grocery store, and he had something quick to grab.
"Nine dollars and twenty one cents." A ten dollar bill met the man's hand and was stuffed into the register. The crinkling of a plastic bag was heard before it met his hand. "Have a nice day, sir." Branch sighed. "You too."
The teen exited the store and once again sat in the leather seat of his car. Reflecting wasn't something he liked to do, yet he did it often...either about Poppy or his grandma. Recently he'd gotten Poppy in the hospital. Another case on his hands. He closed his eyes and then opened the bag. Two bouquets blossoming with vibrant color. One for his grandma and one for the girl he'd longed for since the day he'd met her. Maybe today was his day...but his mood pulled the thought away. Another sigh and he was on the road again.

"3rd floor, take a left, then a right, then look for room 291." "Thank you ma'am." Being polite wasn't in Branch's vocabulary, but since it was his Grandma's birthday, he did what she'd expect of him. You could often find him sulking or rolling his eyes or scolding people, but today he was in a sad mood. Today, he wouldn't be the Branch everyone saw.
   Room 291. He knocked. His knuckles met the cold surface of the door and then the handle. He turned it and slowly, an image of a teenage girl lying down in a bed, body covered with sheets, turned her head and met his eyes with her own. They were full of curiosity and wonder that caused her lips grow apart and her breath to shorten. Surprise. Shock. He couldn't describe which was the one to match her expression with. All he knew was that this was unexpected and his next move could determine what it would be. He chose wisely.
   "H-Hey...brought you some flowers," he stuttered before revealing the bouquet. They were both speechless yet reluctant to meet eyes again. This time, Branch saw joy. "Branch..." That shining, beautiful smile. "You came!" She could've jumped out of that hospital bed if she could but her scars told her otherwise. Branch fought back the urge to smile. "Yeah well, this is kinda my fault that you're here." Poppy rolled her eyes and gestured for him to take a seat. "Please. I'd rather it be me than you." Shock. Now it was his turn. Only one person had ever said that to him... "I'd rather it be me than you, Branch." "I love you, Grama." "I love you too." "I love you," he whispered so quietly, he barely heard himself. "What?" Branch jumped and sat down in the chair before her bed. "Nothing."
   "You okay there, Branchie?" Again. Grandma. "What's with the nickname?" Branch scolded her, refraining from the thoughts of his grandmother. It seemed impossible for her to know all these things. Poppy's eyes narrowed. "Ummm well... I just thought it was nice...you don't like it?" Now guilt started to set in. He had to give the girl a break. She'd been thrown against a glass case, shattering it in the process, and cutting herself so badly that she was now lying in a hospital bed. He scolded himself on the inside for his remark and looked towards the window. "I do...I do, Pinkie." She smiled.
   Silence took the remaining space in the room again. It felt awkward to Branch. He needed to escape it and his only option was talking to her. She always had a lot to say. "Has anyone else visited you?" The smile her face once held began to melt into a frown. Her eyes met her feet beneath the sheet and her bottom lip curved inward. "Other than you," she began avoiding any eye contact, "not much." She was disappointed. Only one word met his thoughts, Creek. "No...Creek?" She looked towards the window this time. The light reflected in her eyes making some tears become known. "He won't answer any of my texts. I guess he's just busy or something."
   The sadness was contagious. It floated throughout the room. Branch swallowed hard. "Thanks for the presents." It startled him yet he looked up at her. "Don't sweat it." Her gaze floated from the window straight to his eyes. A smile. Then they drifted to his pocket. He remembered. "I forgot to give you this," he told her pulling out the flower headband. There was a sparkle in her eyes before they lit up. His weight went from the chair to his feet and then he walked to her bedside. "It was my grandmother's...from when she was younger." Branch felt his eyes stink but he blinked the tears away. "Today's her birthday...and–" "Branch." Poppy's interruption was surprising but yet comforting. She understood. He met her eyes shining with water as she commanded him in the nicest way possible. "Sit." He complied.
   The brown haired teen planted himself beside the silent teenage girl hesitantly. Poppy didn't budge. Her eyes were stuck to the foot of the bed as if she was deep in thought. He waited for her reaction or for her to say something, but nothing came. What did happen though, were sheets moving upward and covering his legs. They stopped at his waist. "I'm sorry." The two words echoed in Poppy's mind leading her to curiosity. "Why?" She asked like there wasn't anything he should be sorry for. It astonished him. "I could've kept them off of you, and if I did, you wouldn't be here." Her face turned and watched him frown. It was quite intriguing to see someone will such a hard shell to show sympathy and guilt. "I should've just–" Arms. Two arms wrapped around his torso and squeezed. Then hair tickled his neck and weight was pressed down against his shoulder. Poppy's embrace shut him up. There were no words nor thoughts entering his mind.
   "Don't tell me you're sorry. If it weren't for you, I could've been in much worse condition than I am now. I don't blame you, because I blame Creek." His shoulders stiffened at the name. What did he have to do with all this? Apparently Poppy read his mind. She pulled away. "One day we went to this restaurant and then some bergens approached us as we were waiting for our waitress to return. They claimed that the place was their hangout and that we weren't allowed. Our type of people were always enemies with the bergens, it was always that way." Poppy twiddled her fingers while Branch just listened. For once, something interesting was coming from that mouth of hers. "It came down to a bet. Of course I didn't know what it was because he never told me. But that bet was won in one dirty way. Turns out, Creek pretended to date the owner of the place's daughter and eventually won. The place was ours all until they broke up. I was naive with the whole situation just because he wasn't too fond of giving me the story to its entirety. So he took me there on a date and once we were there, he realized she was a part of their gang. They attempted to kick us out but Creek refused which got us nothing but the cops." Poppy sighed still avoiding looking at him. The words were on the tip of his tongue and he couldn't stand not saying them. He finally did. "You're still into him?" Her eyes ultimately met his and she shrugged. "I believe everyone deserves a second chance."
   Branch sighed a little too loudly and rested his back against the pillows. His eyes shot upward to the ceiling above and stayed there until something brushed his hand. Poppy's hand caused his head to search for his own and made him freeze when he saw it. It caught her off guard. "What? I can't hold your hand? You're my best friend! C'mon dude!" He gave her a nervous laugh and relaxed his tense shoulders. "Okay." Poppy smiled and rolled over on her side. She was comfortable with his presence. He came when her own boyfriend didn't. She wasn't alone.
   "I'm glad you're okay." She smiled. "Yeah. I'm just glad you're here. It's nice having someone to talk to that's not on a phone's screen," she giggled. He flashed her a half smile. Then her giggles stopped. "What about you?" Branch's brows furrowed. "What about me?" "Are you alright?" His brows rose. He felt a wave of comfort. She cared. "Branch!! Are you alright?" "Aunt Marie, I'm fine." "Are you bleeding? Cut?" "No! I'm okay. Is...grama okay?" "I'm fine, Pinkie. Don't worry about me–" "But I can't!! They told me what you did. How you sat on the glass and picked me up and I could've been cut even more and–" He reached forward and pulled her into his arms. It silenced her quicker than ever. 'Branch is hugging me,' she kept thinking. It was amazing and shocking. Her head just rested against his sweatshirt and her lips let out deep breaths. "I'm okay," he confirmed in a whisper just loud enough for her to hear. With one swift movement, he pulled out the headband he had set in his pocket and offered it to the quiet, pink haired girl. "Take it. A girl as special as you deserves to be it's new owner." She looked at the head piece and then back at him. "But this means so much to you–" "And so do you." Branch bit his tongue. He regretted saying it. The four words weren't meant to slip off his lips and yet they did.
   Luckily, they were enough to convey the message she needed. Poppy slipped it on her head and smiled. She looked beautiful to him but that thought would stay in his mind....for now at least.
   They both laid their heads on the pillows while Poppy entered her deep thoughts once again. This time, it was obvious."What's wrong?" Branch questioned eying her expression. She inhaled before answering. "Will you promise me something?" His eyes widened but he nodded slowly. Deep inside he crossed his fingers this promise wouldn't be to go to a party. It wasn't. "Will you promise to never leave me? To be friends forever?" His lips parted and he gave a short sigh. "I promise."
   The two friends talked for what felt like hours about the strangest of things and watched a movie. The thing they both loved the most was simply each other's company. It was the highlight of Poppy's night. After they finished eating, Poppy pulled her best friend into a hug while her eyes began to feel heavy with sleep. "Branch? Will you sing to me?" she asked while Branch felt himself stop breathing. The last time she'd heard him sing was unintentional and embarrassing in his opinion. But to her, it was something hard to forget. "Please?" she pleaded again, he head laying again the cloth on his chest. The boy sighed.
I hear Jerusalem bells a-ringing
  Roman cavalry choirs a singing
  Be my mirror, my sword and shield
  My missionaries on a foreign field
   The teenager, head against the soft pillow, felt his eyes begin to close.
For some reason I can't explain
  I know St Peter won't call my name
  Never an honest word
  But that was when I ruled the world
   The lyrics slowed to a stop, with both lips apart and brows raised, he drifted into a lively dream.