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[center][h1][color=33aa73]🅚🅞🅒🅐[/color][/h1]
[color=33aa73]۞[/color][/center]
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Stepping away from the fountain as he heard a familiar voice call for him and the first thought that popped into his head: Mother. Beginning to wipe his tears away as quickly as possible the young boy made his way to where he heard his mother’s voice be called. Without realizing it. The slight pain of landing on his backside ran up his spine as he ran into someone. Looking up. Father. His green eyes widened in surprise and fright. [sup][i]Did he know I was crying? Would he be mad if I was crying about Ergen!?[/i][/sup] The child quickly began to become a stuttering mess. Only noises and I’s and Eh’s and Uhms’ were coming out of his mouth before he shot up to his feet. Something finally came out. “[color=33aa73]Popsie.[/color]” That was not the right word — Gunhan hasn’t allowed any of his children to call him that since their eldest brother, Ergen, became a traitor to the city. Fear circled in the boy's eyes and Gunhan’s brows furrowed more with confusion even though it appeared to be anger to Koca. 

Koca dashed around his father and ran into the Ilkin family estate’s home as he went to find his mother. 

[i][color=aa336a]Popsie[/color][/i] was said in such a variety of ways from Ergen. They grew up calling Gunhan father or Baba or sometimes Pappa but for some reason, Ergen called the man Popsie. It wasn’t a usual term in the city but Ergen was reading older texts one day and he thought it was a beautiful reference to a father. How it was used in the book between a child and father. A story. He was young when he read it and decided to continue to use it. 

The boy moved quickly through the house with bare feet and the little padding of his feet barely echoed throughout the large home. “[color=ffffff][b]Koca![/b][/color]” His mother waved while he ran right past the room she was in. The kitchen. Backtracking with an awkward smile. It broke her heart to see him stand in the doorway. His chest pointed forward and his one shoulder pointed at her. His head turned with those green eyes. Ergen. That was the thought that passed her mind. The youngest of the Ilkin family reminded them, especially their mother, too much of her eldest son, Ergen. It was a heartache each time she caught behavioral traits only her eldest would do or looks with those specific green eyes like he would make. She could feel tears coming to her eyes so she closed them and stayed silent. “[color=ffffff]I made your favorite. Rose chicory bread.[/color]” Rose chicory bread was made from [i]rose chicory[/i] a soft yellow berry in the first ring. Only found in the first ring on one bush in the garden. It was a sweet berry that grew in clusters and tasted sweet with a bitter and sometimes sour aftertaste. The bush smelt like roses. Fruity roses. The first and second-ring children would refer to them as sweet-tart candies. 

The bread was made exactly how Ergen enjoyed it as well. Rose chicory berries with swirls of honey. She was beginning to cut it while Koca walked into the room with a suspicious look on his face. “[color=ffffff]Why are you looking so intensely at me?[/color]” A light nervous laugh was heard from his mother while Koca shrugged his shoulders. 

He didn’t know what to say about her actions and her appearance. Shrugging his shoulders as he glanced down to the floor. His chin threatened to touch his collarbone as he began to shyly explain himself. Similar to how Ergen did at his age, “[color=33aa73]I don’t-t know. You s-seem s-sad.[/color]” His eyes looked up from under his dark brows as they grew slightly wider. He didn’t want his mother to be sad. Hoisting himself up onto the stool on the other side of the counter, he awkwardly tapped the counter before smiling, “[color=33aa73]We could share the bread![/color]” his excitement died in a flash. “[color=33aa73][i][sub]If you want too…[/sub][/i][/color]” He whispered and almost mumbled all of those words and his mother expressed concern and gentle expression. 

“[color=ffffff]I would love to share it with you. Do you want to join me on the balcony?[/color]” This seemed to cause Koca to perk up right away and he nodded his head yes without hesitation. His smile grew into a grin. Ear to ear. The boy could catch when his mother was spotting similarities to his eldest brother. She usually didn’t want to do things with him after that. This was a treat. 

They went upstairs and sat on the balcony furniture. The sun was beautiful, but he could see the storm from their position. “[color=33aa73]I heard the Wardana students say that a storm surge hasn’t happened in a moon cycle,[/color]” Koca was too old for his age. His mother’s eyes showed bits of concern while she flushed that away with a few blinks and a change of emotions. “[color=ffffff]You are too young to worry about those things. How about we sit here and enjoy and you go play with your friends after this,[/color]” She handed him a plate with rose chicory honey swirl bread and a cup of juice. Koca decided to stay quiet as he and his mother shared a peaceful moment together. He didn’t have friends. Not really… Unless you count books, then he had more friends than anyone else had! 
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