Brodacious! A BroZone Oneshot Collection

Birthday Teen

A/N: Got inspired to write two more oneshots over the Christmas weekend. Here's the first, a follow-up to Birthday Boy (ch. 15)

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Near silence filled the space.

There was no laughter. There were no shrieks. There were no rambunctious squabbles or playful shenanigans. Not even a silly, improvised tune. There was just Branch, his bunker, and his sole cupcake.

It was a stark contrast to the scene that it was for this very occasion twelve years ago. To the fun that existed then, when things were simpler and he would hold no concerns for tomorrow. Back then, he didn't have to grow up so fast. He could enjoy his time in diapers, clapping his small hands and giggling with delight. He could play with his brothers, enjoy the warm hugs from his grandmother, and sing to his heart's content, all without a worry in the world.

Back then, when there weren't any problems to be solved, and Branch knew nothing of the hardships the future would bring for him.

But this wasn't like that now.

It was never going to be like that again.

At least, not the way he saw it.

With a sigh he prodded at the rich, vanilla icing on the cupcake in front of him and watched the frosting indent.

Branch scrunched his nose, a feeling of disgust welling inside of him. He'd lost his taste for cupcakes long ago. They were far too sugary, and in the end didn't provide the appropriate nutrients that were needed to sustain a healthy diet. Nowadays, such a thing was critical, if it meant ensuring his survival. Because, unlike before, he had nobody else to ensure of it.

But, he had gone through the trouble of baking the treat, and it was not trouble he would've gone through without anything to gain in return. Every minute he took with every task he performed was a spent effort.

With a hint of reluctance, and a hint of longing, he unwrapped the confection from its paper covering, and brought it up to his lips. The taste melted sweetly against his tongue and left behind a myriad of flavors. It was simple but elegant. No extravagance or excess. Just what he needed in such a time.

Inhaling deeply, Branch closed his eyes. He savored the sweetness, marveling at how closely he had hit home with his Grandma's recipe and wondering that, if his brothers had been there, perhaps they wouldn't even be able to tell the difference.

Trouble was, they weren't there, and had not been for quite some time...

They weren't there for when he'd hit his 3 inch milestone in height, or when he'd become fully potty trained, or when he'd had his first day of school, or when his voice had deepened, or whenever ANY little thing that was important to him had happened. Their absence was a constant ache in his chest that only intensified day after day, year after year, paining him to realize that he couldn't see his brothers as the young men that they were sure to be now... and that they couldn't see him for the one that he was becoming.

Dismay pricked Branch like a thorn.

It wasn't fair. It was completely unfair. He loathed the solitude. The bunker that lacked the very trolls for whom he built it for. His sickeningly sweet cupcake, mocking him with its perfection.

He chewed the last few morsels he was willing to eat away, savoring the flavor, before setting down the unfinished treat on the table and pushing it aside.

This is the worst birthday yet.