Chapter Text
It had been a while since Bruce had leff the troll tree, left his family. He used to count every single day that he had been gone religiously, waiting for anything, a letter from grandma yelling at him to come home, Clay complaining about how he had to be the biggest brother now, a message from Floyd that would probably be both understanding and urgent, even a drawing from Bitty B. He expected something, but he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to be upset at getting nothing. A lot had changed in the months, years, he’d been gone, he’d changed his name, gotten engaged, he was about to start his own family.
Which is exactly why he decided it was a good idea to try and sneak back to the troll tree, it took a lot of convincing with Brandy to be able to deliver the wedding invitations himself. He didn’t blame her, he wouldn’t want his fiance facing literal mortal danger to get the message out. But this was different, Brandy had a good relationship with her family, it was rare for them to go more than a week without talking, they had family dinners at least once a month, they knew about the engagement before it even happened. It had been 6 months and Bruce’s family didn’t know a thing. So yeah, a hand delivery seemed more necessary. Besides, the invitations had his new name on the cards, so without a letter or something else they wouldn’t even know whose wedding they were actually being invited to.
Sneaking back into the tree was easy, you just had to pick the right time at night and know what you were doing. It also helped that Trollstice wouldn’t happen for at least a few more months. He might have stopped counting the days since he left, but he couldn’t bring himself to not remember when Trollstice was celebrated. Thankfully, the guards near the troll tree both didn’t seem to be paying attention, and he found his way back to his childhood house almost as easily as he left it.
He knocked on the doorframe before entering, sure it was late and grandma would probably chew him out after a good hug and reunion, but it felt better to let his presence be known before barging in. He didn’t have the privilege of sneaking in late at night and passing out on the couch, at least, not anymore. Nobody exited their rooms after the first knock which was weird, but not impossible, so he knocked again, louder this time. “Hello?” He tested his luck.
Nothing. So he inhaled, exhaled, shook his head, and entered the pod.
The first thing he was greeted with was a thick layer of dust, he couldn’t help but sneeze at least three times and he had barely found himself out of the doorway. Sure, it’s not like grandma would meticulously clean everyday, but she never let things get this bad, she barely let things get “bad” at all. In fact, it should have been impossible for this much dust to build up with two teenagers and a toddler in the house. Though Clay would have been an adult by now, and Bitty B would be considered a kid now, not a toddler. However, even if Clay had moved out and Branch was older there was no possible way for the house to be so dirty, so unused.
He turned on one of the lamps and the extra light did nothing to help his uneasy stomach. All it did was further enforce the fact that no one had lived here for a long amount of time. The only things that seemed touched were a couple cupboards in the kitchen, tiny hand prints gracing the surface of the metal handles, reflecting his own scrunched up face back. He was about to leave the main room until he turned around and saw a tuft of black hair and big eyes hiding from behind the couch.
“Spruce?” And did his heart drop when he heard just how small that voice was. It was scratchy and rough, it broke halfway through his name, and hearing just his name made his heart drop. This was his littlest brother, but it shouldn’t have been, nothing in the world shouldn’t have ever made his five year old brother sound so, so broken. He was still a baby, and yet he sounded more haunted than Bruce had heard any adult sound like.
Bruce let out a shaky exhale, one he didn’t know he was holding in, he kneeled down and nodded. “Yup, it’s me buddy, sorry it took so long to come back-” before he could even finish his sentence his arms were full of a crying baby brother. And all he could do was hold him, pat his back, he muttered out a few “It’s ok”s and “I’m here now”s but in reality he had no clue what he was gonna do.
None of the current pieces of information he had painted a pretty picture, he wasn’t a genius but he could guess parts of the story to the best of his abilities. First of all, Clay and Floyd were gone, there was no way they would’ve ignored the sounds of Bitty B’s borderline hysterical cries. Whether they were eaten or left was an issue he’d figure out later. Second of all, Grandma was gone. There was absolutely no chance that she would have just abandoned Branch so she either died peacefully, or the more likely option, she was eaten. Which means his baby brother had been taking care of himself for at least six months if she was taken this Trollstice, and even longer if she was taken before that.
By the time he had pieced everything together himself Bitty B seemed to have calmed down. He slowly exited the hug and held his youngest brother by his shoulders, finally getting a real good look at him. The pale yellow glow from the lamp he had turned on earlier didn’t do much in his brother's favor. The first and most important thing that struck out to him was the fact that his youngest brother, the kid who used to run laps around him, seemed to have endless energy, and was always kind enough to sit at the dinner table with him even after everyone else had left, was gray.
If he thought his heart had dropped earlier then how he felt currently was indescribable. Absolutely nothing could have prepared him for this when he decided to make the journey back home. Branch’s face was gaunt and he seemed to be swallowed up by Bruce’s hands on his shoulders, sure he was small as a baby but this? This was far too small. The kid had eyebags that could rival JD’s after multiple all nighters trying to write songs and that was wrong. Everything about this god awful situation was wrong.
When he made the decision to hand deliver the wedding invitations he had expected, tears, he had expected multiple stern talks from grandma, he was ready for anger and resentment and everything but this. Nothing in the world could have prepared him for this. He wishes he had to deal with at least one hundred more embarrassing lectures from grandma if it meant she would still be here, meant that his brother didn’t look so small and broken. He would have done just about anything for Branch to not be looking at him right now with those god awful Gray puppy dog eyes.
Except, he couldn’t, what’s happened, happened, and he couldn’t do a singular thing to change that. Brandy and him had multiple late night talks about all of the things they both wish they could’ve changed, could’ve done differently, and every single time it had come up they had both reassured one another that the past is the past, what matters most is what you do now to fix it. And so despite everything he looked at his younger brother and smiled, no matter how much he didn’t feel like it and how sick to his stomach he was, he put on a brave face, because somebody had to.
“Hey little bro, it’s been a minute hasn’t it?”