Chapter Text
It was a mistake at the start.
Brozone had been performing at one of their usual venues. Not much different, they were doing a set of songs that they had done so much they had perfected it. And everything had been going great.
But gosh was it boring in the room.
Sure there was the music and the trolls seemed pretty entertained. But Clay had noticed there was a certain… energy that was absent in the room. And he was the fun one, the one that made everyone laugh and clap and smile, smile, smile. So he took it upon himself to do something about it.
At his turn in the next song, he did something he wouldn’t normally do, and changed up his choreography. He leaped forward and began to breakdance, exciting the crowd. Then he started changing his hair colors. Red, neon pink, teal, orange, he cycled through them and fell back into the intended dance. The crowd went wild, coming to life in nearly an instant. He heard Spruce let out a laugh and John Dory yelling out “Good one Clay!”. He giggled, and refocused on his dance.
A week later, as he was catching up on his reading for his sad book club, John Dory burst into his room. Spruce followed close behind, holding Floyd, who was nearly too big to carry easily, in his arms. He scrambled to hide his copy of “The Fault in Our Stars” and succeeded just as John slammed down a copy of the latest magazine, flipped to a page in the middle with their group on it.
“Member of up-and-coming boy band Brozone brings a ‘splash’ of color to the stage, exciting fans,” Clay read out, a grin forming on his face. John Dory whoops in excitement, and ruffles Clay’s hair.
“They loved you! I was a bit confused when you switched it up like that but man, that was perfect, you were perfect!” His oldest brother said, picking up the magazine and beaming at the page.
“Yeah man, that was great. Beautiful even, don’t you think Floyd?” Spruce said, putting the boy down. Floyd ran to his brother and sat in his lap squeezing him into a tight hug. He wasn’t the chattiest kid, but no words needed to be said to convey the admiration Floyd was feeling towards Clay.
“Oh, look at this, look at their smiles!”, John exclaimed, gesturing to the magazine. “See this, this is why you’re the fun one! I’m gonna go show grandma, but hey, I’m real proud of ya, Clay. Keep it up!” With that, he left, and Spruce walked up to him.
“I’m gonna take Floyd here and put him down for a nap. Great job, Clay.” The trolling pouted at the fact that he had to take a nap, but he didn’t protest. As they left the room, he called out, “Bye-bye Cway!” and waved over Spruce’s shoulder.
The image of his smile, and John's and Spruce’s lingered at the forefront of his mind. Right then, he wanted nothing more than to give his all for Brozone, so he could see those smiles over and over again. He got up, and decided to leave their pod to practice on the tree branches that functioned as their prep area. He had a new choreo he wanted to try.
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Clay layed on the couch, a cool rag resting on his forehead, and a bottle of headache medicine by the chair.
His forehead was pounding, and he groaned. Trolls could change the color of their hair naturally, probably for camouflage or something like that. But most didn’t have any reason to do it long term. Clay however, had pushed himself to do it for every show, afterparty, interview and photo shoot and more. And it was taking a really big toll on him.
He groaned and shifted into a sitting position. He would be fine. He just had to figure out how to tell his brothers that he was done with this gimmick. He had to, regardless of the disappointed looks he would get from John and the others. He thought he could hold and manage but-
His train of thought pulled to a stop when Floyd entered the room. The troll was much older now, and he was holding a rag in his hand.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” Floyd asked, placing the fresh cool rag onto his older brother's forehead.
“Hah, feeling great,” Clay replied, forcing a smile onto his face. “Don’t worry too much. Just a lil headache, I’ll be alright. Especially when grandma’s done with that tea.”
Floyd giggled. “Yeah, she’s almost done. And the cookies she made are almost done cooling.” The boy then looked Clay in the eye, his expression suddenly serious.
“How are you really feeling, Clay? Inside,” he asked, placing a hand on his heart, and Clay sat there in a shocked silence.
“Uhhhhh…what’s that’s supposed to mean,” he scoffed, waving his hands dismissively. “Like I said, I’m alllllll good lil bro.”
Floyd just stared at him, searching his face and eyes for a hint of something different than what he was saying. He must have found nothing, because he simply smiled, patted Clay’s arm, and left the room.
Clay’s grin fell into a frown as he settled into a comfier position. Had it been that obvious he was worried? It wasn’t that he was afraid John would tell he couldn’t, John would never force him to do something like that. No, it was the disappointment that would follow, no matter how short-lived. He groaned again. Stupid Floyd asking him stupid questions that made him think about his stupid feelings. Then again, he was the sensitive one. And Clay was the fun one, willing to do whatever it takes to put a smile on the crowd's face.
Grandma Rosiepuff walked in soon after, tray of tea and cookies in her hand. “How’s my little sunbeam,” she teased, setting the tray down next to him.
“M’fine Grandma, just tired. I’ll be better soon.”
“I’m sure you will,” she said, cradling his face in her hand. “Oh, it’s so sad seeing you in this state, buddy. Drink your tea up, not too fast so you don’t burn your tongue.” She said, handing him the tea and placing a soft kiss on his forehead.
“Think you can give Grandma a little smile?”
That was a request he had been getting more often. After the youngest was born, there was a sorrow that filled the house. As expected, of course, when losing a loved one, but even after the grief choked them, seeping its way into every room of the pod. Clay had found that seeing each other happy helped fight it off, at least for a little. So, just for his grandma, even though he would probably rather not, he gave her the widest smile he possibly could, and pulled her into a hug.
Rosipuff chuckled, and stood up straight, and moved to leave the room before muttering a quiet “oh” hurrying back. She reached into her hair and pulled out Baby Branch, who cooed in excitement at the sight of his brother.
“Here, take Branch for a little bit, he hasn’t spent any time with ya today.” And with that, she was gone, and Branch sat in lap, giggling.
“Heyyy, Bitty B. What’s poppin’,” Clay asked, raising his hand to high five the baby. Branch returned in excitedly, and babbled incoherently. Clay found it extremely endearing, the way he would seem to try to answer questions if you asked, even though he couldn’t talk. He was a clever baby.
Branch then slowly began to crawl out Clay’s lap, and backed a few feet away from the couch, slowly so that he wouldn’t stumble.
“You wanna show me something, lil bro?” he asked, and the baby gooed and clapped his hands. He then stood very still, scrunching his little face in focus. He then took a step to the left, and one to the right, forwards and backwards, and finished it with a spin. The baby didn’t stop there, continuing to bust a few simple but oh so adorable moves for his brother.
Clay couldn’t stop the smile that was naturally forming on his face. Branch had just barely begun to walk, but had already picked up on some dancing and was very good. He was very talented, and John Dory had begun to let him sit in on their practice sessions. He intended to let Branch into the band a lot earlier than Floyd, as soon as he learned to talk and sing. Clay had found the idea a little crazy, considering Branch was still so small, but he could see why John wanted to, especially now watching the baby dance.
At that point, Baby Branch had transitioned into a very sloppy but well intentioned performance of his Rusty Robot. There was effort clearly, but it still needed a lot of work. Clay stood up, ignoring the thudding inside his head, and held up a hand, causing Branch to stop mid-robot and stare at him.
“Hmmm, not bad, but you’re missing a couple steps. THIS is how you do the Rusty Robot,” he said, and began to dance himself. Yes, he was meant to be resting, drinking tea and all that, but watching how his baby brother cheered and clapped and smiled that huge one toothed smile, he wouldn’t dare think of stopping.
He finished and walked over to the baby, rustling his hair and taking in the sounds of his laughter. As he did, he took notice of the baby’s frosted tips (a great look on him) and got an idea. Maybe he wouldn’t have to disappoint anyone after all.
He scooped up his baby bro, spun him around (just once, anymore and he’s sure his skull would have split open) and carried him through the pod.
“C’mon Bitty B! Let’s see if Spruce can help us find some hair dye.”