Chapter Text
Things had been going great, his brothers were back and John wasn’t alone anymore. It was nice being around others, feeling the warmth in their smiles, laughing together, and being acknowledged in a way he hadn’t been in years. He was genuinely feeling better, which made him feel irritated with himself with how he was feeling. He had a really weird dichotomy of feelings going on. He was happy to be around others, to be around his brothers specifically, but he also felt uncomfortable being around for too long or for things to be too loud for more than a couple of hours. And with pop trolls that was a difficult request that he wasn’t even going to try and make.
He knows that the problem is internal. Trolls were social creatures who thrived together not apart. Trolls are seldom happy when they are isolated. Not the “I’m going to my room” kind of isolated but the “I live alone and speak only to the wall or my van” kind. It was a known thing, that together was better.
John remembers reading a book about trolls that were alone and how they tended to die early, the loneliness causing stress on their body knocking off years every moment of it. The troll in question would have a hard time sleeping, and remembering things, and tended to get sick more easily compared to others. It wasn’t common for trolls to get sick but it wasn’t rare either. To have a lowered immunity sounded like hell. To be honest most of it had sounded terrifying to John.
So the fact that he had spent almost twenty years for the most part isolated, was astonishing. In the sense that he was surprised he had made it this far. There had been several occasions where his thoughts had almost eaten him alive, leaving nothing but scraps that blew in the wind. He knew that the isolation had put stress on his body. When he was overwhelmed and was able to escape, oftentimes he would end up just sleeping, so tired that he couldn’t even think of doing anything else. He couldn’t even remember his first couple of years of traveling. John thought he was broken, cracked so badly that the glass tended to cut you if you touched it.
It would probably be going better if John was willing to communicate his feelings on all this better, but he wasn’t. John had always been one of those trolls who let things boil over, exploding at the worst of times. He wouldn’t say that he never had moments where he’d share, but they were far from frequent. After the isolation, it had only gotten worse. John is pretty sure that his brothers were a bit irritated with it.
“So you’re all leaving”, John said, making sure to look curious as he said it.
“Yea, me and Viva need to help direct the Putt Putt Trolls back”
“Poppy has a meeting in Vibe City with the rest of the leaders”
“I need to get back to the island before Brandi’s yoga retreat”
Grimacing a little bit, John made sure to keep a creaky smile on his face. But then he noticed Clay looking at him. All John had done was smile and Clay was all of a sudden frowning looking at him sharply. God, all he had done was smile. The stare-down was interrupted by Branch looking at John.
“What about you John, do you have something going on?”
John didn’t but he didn’t want to look sad being the only one without any plans. To be honest he had wanted to spend some time with them but he guesses he’ll have to wait. He was feeling a weird mix of relief and disappointment about it.
“I have some stuff stored in the Neverglades that I wanted to grab before fully moving h-“
“You’re moving here?”
Sometimes when John spirals he wishes he’d been here to know Branch, to know his ticks and behavior, because there was something in his voice when he’d said that. Something unknown and brittle.
“Well yea…that was the plan right?” The way that Branch is looking at him, is making his skin itch and suddenly he wants this conversation over, the attention sweltering. Scratching his neck he balefully looked away from Branch, forcing a chuckle out. “Man oh man B, I didn’t say anything about it before?” He’d meant for it to lighten the room but Branch is staring at him harder now.
“Tch, you still suck at communication John” Clay had rolled his eyes and was looking to the side. He didn’t suck, it was just hard. If that made sense, which to John, it did. Clay hadn’t communicated either, just told him the day that he was leaving. None of them had. He wasn’t the only one messing up, and yet sometimes it felt like it. Like if he even lifted a finger wrong, he’d be public enemy number one. Gearing up to respond, he was cut off by Bruce.
“I’m going to cut that all off early and just get a move on,” he said, giving a quick hug to Branch and walking away to help Floyd towards the elevator. Clay scoffed but moved towards the exit too, hugging Branch too. Turning around to look at the ground John felt his eyes sting. He had walked in on Clay and Bruce hugging Floyd, meaning everyone had gotten a goodbye hug but him. Granted he hadn’t been in the bunker until they were pulling apart, but it had happened. They had gotten one.
Was it that hard to hug him?
“John”
Looking to the left John saw Branch standing a little ways away from him. Sometimes he couldn’t help but look at Branch’s ears, downturned and droopy, and wonder if he had felt lonelier than him. Or had they felt the same? Were they cut from the same cloth? Terrified but happy?
He hadn’t wanted to be alone after the first couple of years. His solution had been to go back home, to see his brothers and be together. It had failed and he had ended up wading in murky waters almost drowning in grief. He remembers having been ready to hug them when he saw them again, he had wanted it to be the first thing he did no matter if they fought him on it or not, because no matter the anger, they were his brothers and it had hurt to be alone. Being lonely always hurts.
At the feeling of arms around him, he’s able to get out of his thoughts. Looking down he sees Branch hugging him tightly. Closing his arms around him he makes sure to wrap around him, taking away both sound and sight hoping that he would have this moment for a long while.
Bummed when he feels Branch start to wiggle, he lets go and steps back. Branch looks a little uncomfortable but he doesn’t put a lot of space between them or say anything about the shake in John’s shoulders.
“Thanks B”
Branch’s smile is a bit tense but there was a warmth there that hadn’t been there earlier.
“Come back…Come back soon”
John’s breath hitches when he hears the statement but he says nothing, only nodding his head and giving his usual smile. Branch looks at him a little longer and then turns around heading towards the elevator.
That had been two days ago and now he was back in the Neverglades in one of his usual camping spots. He just needed to stay here for a couple of days and then head back. There was nothing out there that he needed; he kept everything in Rhonda or on his very person. God, maybe he should go back after a day and say he found his stuff quickly and just ignore any questions about his time. His brothers wouldn’t be there but at least he could choose whether or not to be around other trolls.
Being out here again was refreshing but it was sending him on a spiral. After being around people for the last couple of weeks, he had been itching for quiet and space but as soon as he got it, all he could remember was Floyd’s hug after rescuing him and the hug Branch had given him before he’d left. His skin was tingling with the want for someone to hold him, to care, the feeling was almost all-encompassing. And yet being out here, he knew no one would be coming. Looking at his hands he picked at the scars on his fingers, wondering how he could get any more pathetic.
Taking a breath, he moved his eyes from his fingers and looked at the pit he had started a little while ago. In a couple of hours, the sun was going to go down, leaving him with the night sky and his thoughts. Hearing a rustle in the bush he straightened up and looked towards the direction, his hand on his machete. He gave a short laugh when he saw it was just a bunny munching on the berry bush near his camp. He felt a little paranoid and he didn’t know why. Until he heard it.
There was a sharp sound of a crack and then a crunch reverberating throughout the whole forest. All of a sudden a low sound in the air started, sounding as if he was almost near the ocean. It felt as if his skin was vibrating and the earth was slowly tilting giving a quick shake. His hair was puffing up and the hair on his arm was standing on end. John made sure to stay stock still as he looked around. The bunny that had been eating Bingle berries to the side of the camp was now startled, its ears twitching nervously as it paused mid-chew.
John's senses heightened, his heart pounding in his chest as he scanned the dense foliage around him, searching for the source of the unsettling sounds. It had sounded like glass breaking earlier and had sent a ripple of unease through the tranquil forest, disrupting the peace of the area. He paused as he saw flocks of birds leaving the forest. The cacophony of their crows and caws made his ears twitch.
As he strained to listen, the low rumble in the air intensified, almost resembling the distant roar of waves crashing against the shore. It was an eerie sensation as if the very atmosphere itself was vibrating with unknown energy. The hairs on his arms stood on end, and a tingling sensation crawled across his skin, setting his nerves on edge.
With a cautious movement, John rose to his feet, his muscles tense with anticipation. He remained perfectly still, his senses on high alert as he scanned the surroundings for any signs of danger or disturbance. Even the bunny, usually pretty calm seemed to sense the tension in the air, its eyes wide with fear before it ran.
Tired, he didn’t feel like facing anything today, so he decided that he needed to leave now and just find another spot. That was until he noticed the sky getting darker. Looking up he saw the sun start to become black inch by inch until he saw it be fully covered. Only a ring of white light was left where the sun used to be. He had never seen anything like this. He needed to leave the Neverglades and find his brothers. Now.
Turning towards Rhonda, sweat started to trickle down his face. With each step, it felt as though he was wading through thick mud, his movements sluggish and labored. Panic clawed at the edges of his mind as he fought against the sensation of being rooted to the spot. Desperation started to fuel his efforts as he attempted to break free, his muscles straining against the oppressive resistance.
But no matter how hard he pushed, his feet refused to budge in any direction except north. Confusion mingled with fear as he realized that he was being guided away from Rhonda. The low warble and whine from Rhonda only added to his sense of unease, as if she could sense the danger lurking in the shadows. With a heavy heart, John reluctantly followed the pull, his eyes darting nervously between the path ahead and the armadillo behind him.
"I know, girl," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I physically can't move any other direction." The words hung heavy in the air, a grim acknowledgment of the strange forces at play. With a final glance over his shoulder, John steeled himself and continued north, pushing through the foliage.
After walking for a while he paused when he saw an opening in a gaggle of trees, almost reminiscent of a door. John's senses were assaulted by the eerie sight before him as he entered the peculiar area of the forest. The trees seemed to bow inward, their branches intertwining to create a natural canopy that blocked out the sky above. It felt as though he had stepped into a secluded chamber, isolated from the outside world by the encroaching foliage.
As he cautiously ventured further into the mysterious space, his eyes were drawn to the bright red flowers that encircled the perimeter. Even through the dark, they shone brightly almost as if they were glowing. They seemed to dance in the gentle breeze, their vibrant petals beckoning him forward with an otherworldly allure. Despite the oppressive heat that increased with every step he took, John couldn't shake the sensation of cold creeping over him.
Each breath he took hung in the air like a frosty mist, his lungs burning with the chill as if he were standing amid a winter storm. With each step closer to the center of the strange clearing, he panted in exhaustion, the red flowers guiding him onward like beacons in the darkness. His heart raced with a mixture of fear and curiosity, his mind buzzing with questions about what lay ahead.
John's heart pounded in his chest as he stumbled backward, his eyes wide with terror at the sight before him. There nestled into the ground, was a swirling void of stars looking as if he was staring at the night sky. Panic surged through him, telling him he needed to run. But before he could even take a single step, a sudden force seized his leg, yanking him to the ground with a violent jolt.
The impact knocked the breath from his lungs, leaving him gasping for air as pain shot through his ribs. His teeth clacked together painfully, the sound echoing in his ears as he struggled against the unseen grip that held him in its grasp.
With a sinking feeling of dread, John realized that he was being dragged toward the swirling vortex in the ground. He clawed at the dirt, his fingers starting to bleed from the force and hard dirt, but it was no use. The force was too strong, dragging him ever closer to the gaping maw of the wormhole.
Terror washed over him in waves as he felt his body being consumed by the darkness, the void of stars swirling lazily beneath him like a hungry predator preparing to strike. It felt like his body was being pulled forward and backward at the same time. He screamed, his voice drowned out by the deafening roar of his fear as he was pulled deeper and deeper into the unknown abyss, the world around him fading into oblivion.
Coming to makes John feel like he was himself but also somebody else. As if his skin was tight. As if it was wrong.
As John slowly regained consciousness, a flood of confusion washed over him. His mind felt muddled, memories cluttered and fragmented, leaving him struggling to piece together the events that had led him to this moment. As he attempted to orient himself, he became acutely aware of the tightness in his skin, as if it didn’t quite belong to him.
With a sense of growing unease, John realized that his mouth was moving, forming words, but he couldn’t hear his voice. The last thing he remembered was the sound of his screams echoing in the darkness, so the sensation of speaking now only added to his disorientation.
Questions raced through his mind, each one more perplexing than the last. What had happened to him? Where was he? Why did his body feel so wrong?
Finally hearing the words he was saying he startled. "It's the first show of the tour. We have to hit the per—" John's voice faltered as the words escaped his lips, his sentence hanging unfinished in the air. Confusion clouded his thoughts as he struggled to comprehend the meaning behind his own words. The first show of the tour? But that couldn't be right. That had been over twenty years ago.
Silent, he looked around, his gaze sweeping across the familiar surroundings of the backstage area. The worn furniture, the instruments lying around, and the soft pinks littering the room, had to be a nightmare. It was the backstage of their last concert, a memory etched into his mind with absolute certainty, it was one of the few things he hadn’t forgotten from earlier.
As the weight of this realization settled over him, John felt a mixture of nostalgia and disbelief wash over him. How was it possible? How could he be back here, at this moment, after all these years? It felt like a dream, a cruel trick of fate playing with his mind. The last time he had seen something like this had not been good, he had been hallucinating from dehydration and hunger after he had gotten stuck in a cave. His imaginary brothers had not wanted to see him. It was a whole thing.
Looking down at his hands he clenched them, feeling the smooth skin and noticing that all his calluses and scars were gone. God he hoped this was a dream, he’d even hallucinate over this.
All of a sudden John froze as he was overcome by a wave of intense heat that seemed to radiate from deep within. The sensation was suffocating, like being trapped in a sauna with no escape. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, trickling down his face in rivulets as his skin prickled with discomfort.
His vision started to blur, leaving him disoriented and unsteady on his feet. With each passing moment, he felt himself swaying, his balance teetering on the brink of collapse. It was as if the ground beneath him had become unstable, shifting and swaying beneath his weight.
Inside his skull, his brain felt like it was melting and reforming, a dizzying cycle of liquefaction and solidification that left him feeling disoriented and confused. Thoughts seemed to slip through his fingers like grains of sand, elusive and fleeting.
"John. John. John!" The voice pulled John from his disoriented state, and he turned his head to the right to see Floyd, his younger brother, standing there with concern etched on his face. John's heart ached at the sight of Floyd, god he looked so young. Wait, was Floyd saying something?
“Floyd,” John slurred slightly, his tongue feeling heavy and sluggish.
“John, you just suddenly stopped talking mid convo, plus you kind of look out of it,” Floyd's voice broke through the fog in John's mind, and he struggled to make sense of his brother's words. Despite his confusion, John's body moved on its own accord, reaching out and pulling Floyd into a tight hug.
“John, what… what’s going on?” Floyd's voice was muffled as he spoke into his shoulder, only to hear it tremble with concern as he lifted his head to search John's eyes for answers.
“I’m sorry,” John whispered, his voice thick and slurred as he struggled to articulate what he wanted to say. He wanted to act normal, to figure out what was going on, but the heat was making it difficult. The only thing he could think of was his brother and how much he missed him. This was like the hallucinations he had before, where the only thing he had for them was sorry on the tip of his tongue.
With a trembling hand, John gently cupped Floyd's face, as gently as he could be with his hands shaking from exhaustion, god it was just so hot and the heat was making him more tired. Tears welled in his eyes as he tried to convey his feelings, his words stumbling over each other in a slurred mess.“I’m so sorr…y, I lo…I lub you,” John managed to choke out, his gaze locking with his brother's despite the double vision blurring his sight.
Feeling the gentle pressure of Floyd’s hand on his forehead, John’s focus sharpened, and he blinked away the haze that clouded his vision for a couple of seconds. As he met Floyd’s concerned gaze, a pang of guilt shot through him.
“John, you’re burning up, oh my god. I think you actually just almost burned my skin, I swear you were just fine.” Floyd’s voice was coated with alarm, his eyes widening in disbelief at the intensity of John’s feverish state.
Hearing voices in the background he tried to focus on them and turn his head but he failed, his eyes not straying from Floyd’s.
Feeling Floyd’s supportive grip on his arm, John tried to straighten up, realizing he had been slouching. He gripped Floyd’s arm tightly, perhaps too tightly. As Floyd attempted to steady him a sudden wave of nausea swept over him, his throat salivating involuntarily and his stomach clenching in protest.
“Sorr—” John’s apology was cut short as he felt the bile rise in his throat, his body convulsing as he vomited uncontrollably. His vision blurred as he watched the sickly blue and glittery substance spill from his mouth. Ah, his blood. That might be a problem.
As John's name echoed in his ears amidst the cries of his brothers, he strained to respond, to offer some semblance of comfort amid the chaos. But his voice failed him, his attempts at speech drowned out by the overwhelming darkness that encroached upon his vision.
Panic gripped him as he struggled to make sense of the situation, the cries of the baby growing louder and more urgent with each passing moment. He wanted to reach out, to offer reassurance and aid, but his limbs felt heavy and unresponsive, weighed down by the oppressive darkness that threatened to consume him.
With a sense of helplessness washing over him, John fought to stay conscious, to push back against the suffocating void that threatened to engulf him. But as the darkness closed in around him, swallowing him whole, he knew that his efforts were in vain. All he could do was surrender to the oblivion that awaited him, hoping that this was a dream.