❝ BERK SÖZERI —

His ex-wife had been his best friend once upon a time and though their relationship wasn’t strained to the point of shattering altogether, by any means, they certainly weren’t as close as they had been when they were together. They managed to co-parent without a significant amount of difficulty but there was a difficulty to that too sometimes, when Erol’s emotions - his hurt - wasn’t quite so easy to navigate. 

Honestly, he couldn't remember a time in his life when he hadn't been constantly tuned into his surroundings. A time when he hadn't always hyperaware.

At first it was a byproduct of his protective nature - a need to look out for his 'little sister' (by thirteen minutes, but every single one of them counted far as he was concerned). Then it was a necessity of his former job. Now— Now he supposed he also had Deniz to blame, or at the very least her ghost and the guilt it brought along.

Not wanting to put a damper on an otherwise enjoyable exchange he kept those thoughts in his head, where they belonged, and shrugged. "You wouldn't believe some of the conversations I overhear at work." Whether it was due to his inherently quiet nature, or the fact that he tended to stick behind the rental counter more often than not, it was like people forgot he was there.

The secrets and utterly insane things they spilled, thinking nobody else was around to overhear— Whew. Berk let loose a whistle. One that, come to think of it, was just as much a response to his statement, too.

"Thirteen, huh? Bet it feels like it's only been three months." Not that he had kids of his own to base that assumption on. He just knew how time seemed to slow down and speed up in ways that usually made little sense. It felt like ten lifetimes since he'd last hear his sister's laugh, and yet the moment someone chose to silence it... Might as well have been only yesterday for how raw that loss still felt.

"Nah," He shook his head in at the question instead of voicing those thoughts, either. "Never really met the right one that made me wanna settle down and do the whole white picket fence thing, you know?"

Days when their town was blessed with a beautiful winter sun coinciding with her days off were a rare occurrence indeed. It was a no-brainer that this specific day would be spent outside, enjoying whatever rays of sunshine she could with Cooper and Hazel. The little girl was busy playing in the small playground nearby with her grandmother, allowing Alicia to just enjoy a hot cup of coffee in peace and quiet. Cooper was just as glad to bask in the sun, lying down next to Alicia and digging his nose in the pup cup she had gotten him. Being the goofy dog he was, he lifted his head only to sniff at the person walking past, with cream all over his nose. "I'm so sorry if he's gotten any cream on you!" She exclaimed, realizing how close Cooper had gotten to the person.

So yeah, the pup nuzzling at his side painted a generous helping of cream across his jeans that he hadn't been expecting, but he wasn't mad. Not even a little bit.

A wide smile, full of the kind of warmth he usually struggled to dredge up, cracked across Berk's face. "It's fine." He waved off her apology on his way down to a crouch, fingers automatically finding that sweet spot behind the dog's ears. "We're all good here, right bud?"

"Are you sure? Because that's not all that convincing." Somehow she could already imagine the screwed up look she'd get in response. How was it any of her business? Well, down over seven dollars and a slightly aching shoulder led her to believe she had privileges. "Umm, you really don't..." Remi gestured. "...have to. Seems like you have some place you really need to be." The way his smile struggled to stay like a light in a storm told her he'd be more happy to be released from this exchange. ( @berksozeri )

He was really fucking up this entire exchange, wasn't he?

Without a doubt, yes, but it wasn't due to any fault of her own. He just wasn't... good at this. At people. At explaining himself or the constant mess that was the thoughts in his head.

He'd always felt like Deniz was his better half. That somehow, in the womb, she'd been given all the good pieces between them two. She made life look so effortless and easy, whereas he'd struggled from the start. She'd been his twin, his lighthouse, his guide through the dark. Now that she was gone, Berk was just... lost.

And seeing the man responsible for her death, seeing Amos on the street (because it was Amos, he was almost sure of it) didn't help him navigate his way out of the trenches currently.

"I'm sorry. Really." His nostrils flared every so slightly with a deep, slow and steady breath. "It's not you, or anywhere else I need to be. I just— I thought I saw someone who shouldn't be here, and it's kind of messing with me."

Understatment of the century.

"Honestly, I'm probably just runnin' on way too little sleep. I could use a cup of coffee, myself." In other words: his offer still stood, and he hoped she could at least sense his sincerity, fumbled as it might've been in its delivery. "Please. Let me get you a new one, too."

Rachel let out a hum in thought when asked what she'd been feeling. Her brows raised at the offer of his cooking, which once again at least he tried at that too. She gave him a look even though he had his eyes closed and couldn't even see her. "You definitely do not have to cook, it's just me. Plus don't worry, I can't cook to save me...literally. Indian food sounds nice though if you're also interested?" She offered knowing this was hours away still and that they were eating right now, but to be honest she could always go for food.

More than that, though, "Sometimes it's nice to have a reason to cook at all." Finally he peered over, a somewhat blank and unreadable look on his face. "Deniz was always so busy between school and work. She'd get the groceries and I'd handle dinner most nights while she studied or worked on her assignments."

Now that she was gone, well. Not much reason to go through all the bother for a party of one.

Berk didn't speak of his sister often and wasn't keen to start now, either. Whistling for Kev to come back he just pushed off the ground, brushing palms over jeans as he went. "Indian sounds great, though." The little family owned joint around the block from his loft was a frequent favorite. "I'll put in for our usual." Lunch break over it was time to head back to the shop, but he still paused. Still took a second for confirmation and goodbyes before taking off.

"See you around seven?"

As Theo made his way to the shop, he crashed spectacularly against someone, a tangle of legs and crutches, barely keeping him on his feet. "Ow, watch out." He said, annoyed, as the plastic bags slid from his arms. "Bloody hell," he cursed under his breaths, hoping the glasses he'd bought didn't break. Theo blinked, facing the guy who'd crashed against him. Theo shook it off. "It's fine, I'm alright. Are you?" He asked, realizing it might have been his fault too. "I'll need some help getting that back, though," he pointed at the bags on the ground. "Busy day, uh?"

Just when he thought the situation couldn't get any worse, it did. Spectacularly.

Berk couldn't tell whether to look at the man he'd just accosted or the dropped bags first. Each seemed to demand an equal amount of necessary attention.

In the end he chose his unintentional victim (the one sentient and breathing, that is) and stepped forward as if ready to help brace the guy if he teetered toward the ground. It was only when he realized he was fine - possible shoulder bruise aside- that his hand shoved, instead, into the pockets of his jeans.

The other scrubbed over his jaw again out of nervous habit. "Yeah, something like that." Busy day after a sleepless night, ghosts of the past apparently taking him on a chase through downtown streets. "I really am sorry."

He needed to get his shit together. Fast. Especially since his next instinct was to ask if he'd seen him, too. A man looking a little worse for wear, head capped in deep copper.

But hadn't he already done enough without burdening him further?

Gaze dropping to those bags again Berk winced. "Right. Of course." He gingerly hooked a few fingers through the plastic loops. "You want me to check and see if anything in there's broken?" He'd pay for a replacement if that were the case.

A small part of him wanted to melt into the ground in an instant but Erol ignored it— fought to quell the embarrassment rising in him and flushing his cheeks deeply; he imagined he wasn’t all that successful in that endeavor, not when he was shifting awkwardly in place and pondering how he might navigate continuing the conversation with limited issues. “I… don’t know why I blurted that out,” Erol admitted, shaking his head with a self-conscious quirk of his mouth into what might’ve been a smile if he was more relaxed. “It was just the first thing I thought of and the whole brain to mouth filter seemed like it just died on me for a second there,” He explained, waving a hand in a vague gesture as he made the decision to plow through his embarrassment for the sake of conversation. “I’m Erol, by the way. The reigning King of awkward comments,” He finished, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing down at the toes of his boots before he reached down to pet Zara’s head and seemed to calm down over the course of several seconds.

A laugh erupted out of Berk before he even had a chance to stop it. "Yeah?" He did what he could to rein in the still rumbling sound. "In that case I'll say the same thing I did back when I got Kev... her goddamn loss."

Although it might've been a bit presumptious— thinking neither women we still in the picture on either end. Perhaps that's not how he meant it. Perhaps it was only the realization they'd be having a child that she left him with.

Either way, Berk let the comment stand and didn't say anything more to fan the figurative flames that seemed to have spread a flush across the other man's face.

"Don't even worry about it." His dismissive wave came without an ounce of hesitation. "If you only knew half the things that unintentionally come out of my mouth..."

Air hissed between his teeth. He loosed another laugh. "I have a bad habit of thinking out loud." And, as far as problems went, he imagined that put them pretty much on even ground.

"Berk." Extending his hand to complete the shake, he circled back to at least part of Erol's unbidden comment. "How old is your son?" This was how people got to know each other and form more than fleeting acquaintances, right? Asked questions about their life?

A gasp came from her as she leaned closer to him to look at the photo on his phone. "Oh no, his sweet soul. He just looks like he finds nothing wrong with what's happened. But you know behind your back he's like, 'This dude just won't fucking quit.' And I hope you never do." She giggled with glee at the joy it brought her to see the botched creations. Not that her creations for Walter were much better. "I've perfected the baby sweater and beanies for my friend's baby, but I feel like it's ten times harder for the four-legged babies." Rachel admitted, even though they both knew that information already, Berk's creation only further proof of it.

Her smile was much more grateful than amused though as he agreed to look over what she wrote. "Thank you so much. Constructive criticism I think is really what I need. I have a very good feeling I'm putting these in the right hands." Rachel shared truthfully with him as her smile didn't falter as she nodded at his suggestion. "Okay yeah, I can totally do that!" Though a rogue laugh escaped her at his suggestion, her own shoulder bumping right back to his affectionately. "Oh I absolutely cannot wait. I think I'm going to have tears in my eyes tonight." Whether from laughing so hard that she cried or just because of how endearing it was, she wasn't sure which or if it was going to be both.

'How hard could it be, right?'

A few years and several failed attempts later he’d come to eat those words. 

“I can’t help it that my fingers are too big and clumsy for those damn needles.” The grumble came accompanied by a harmless glare. But, no matter how much he claimed his lack of success thus far was due to genetic disadvantage, the truth was he just didn’t possess the talent. Or the patience. 

Each new project gave him something to occupy his long and sleepless nights, though, so he kept at it. The real misfortune wasn’t how much money he’d wasted on the hobby, but the fact that poor Kev had to be his mannequin and model. 

He probably deserved that dog just as little as he did Rachel.  

“What are you feeling tonight?” Pushing back to his elbow Berk reclined against the grass, eyes briefly closing against the winter sun. “I can cook or, if you don’t trust that after what happened last time—” the main course was fine, but his rice pilaf had been an oversalted mess— “we can just order in.”

Sometimes when Cash was with her mother and spending quality time with his grandmother Remi didn't know what to do with her free time. One of the techs had promised to yell at her if she'd try to come in and do some work. It wasn't that she didn't have plenty to do with the house, or errands that needed taken care of post holidays. Still, Remi moved along the sidewalk with espresso hot in a takeaway cup and felt aimless. She was on her way to one of those boutique furniture stores hoping to find the perfect chair to accompany the couch in her living room when she was nearly shoulder checked off her feet. Clearly, the much larger person, was in a hurry and walked with a purpose.

Missing a bus, or even the risk of it, would've been preferable to this alternative.

Berk wasn't keen to contradict her assumption, though. Doing that would mean explaining why he'd really been barreling down the sidewalk. Explaining meant admitting to himself that Amos Leferve really might have been right here, under his nose, in Colorado all along.

"It's fine. I'll be fine." At least until he got home and the ramifications of this moment started to make his head pound.

"I wish I could say the same for your drink, though." His eyes shifted to the ground where a dark brown splash painted the concrete. From the tendrils of steam curling through the crisp, January air he could tell she'd only just got her hands on it, too.

"Can I, uh— Can I buy you a new one? Please?" A chagrined smile flickered and faded on his lips. "It's the least I can do, considering."

He owed her nothing, especially considering she always noticed the tip jar seeming a lot fuller after his departure each and every time he stopped by. It was why the selection she sent with him always seemed to double in size.

The biggest struggle of selecting an option had come to a pause, the tone in voice giving away the look on his face before she'd even shifted her glance to confirm the grin she already knew was there. "Marriage is... it's good. Unexpected, kind of a crazy thing sometimes... but it's good." She matched the giddy look her offered and was well aware of the heat that had settled beneath her cheekbones. "Did you already ask Emmy the same question? I'm curious as to what her answer was."

Sue the man, but he believed in supporting that success, those dreams, any way he could. Even if it meant sneaking a few bills into the tip jar before he left, or putting her food on his tab.

Already having decided what to get he left his menu sit off to the side untouched, happy to listen to Verda speak about official life as a 'Mrs', instead.

That look in her eyes, the joy radiating across her face— "Wife is a good look on you." And he had a feeling the same could be said for Emmy.

At the thought of her, the one who'd tied them all together at the start, Berk chuckled. "No, haven't had the chance yet but I plan on it." Emeline Cormier (had they talked about taking each others last names?) was like a psuedo younger sister. He checked in as often as he could.

"Have the two of you decided what comes next?" Buying a house, traveling, filling a backyard with two and a half kids— after the wedding, possibilites were endless.

He made a mental note not to pester the man in front of him for too terribly long– he couldn't be entirely sure he'd mind it much but he'd always tried to be rather mindful of the time he was taking out of someone's day even in such a small interaction.

It was either that or stare for a bit longer than was socially acceptable simply to try and place why the other man looked familiar. "Oh, that sounds familiar," Erol said with a low chuckle.

"She doesn't do that all that much now – her favorite activity has to be trying to herd me and my son into one room but she just likes to be able to see everyone as far as I can tell," He explained, holding a hand out for Kevin to inspect at his leisure.

"Just about two and a half years now! We adopted her when she was about six months and she's goin' on three now. We didn't exactly know her birthday so we guessed at some time in April and picked a day. She doesn't seem to mind," Erol joked. "How long've you had this guy?"

"Kev's a bit of a velcro dog." But it was said with the kind of amusement and affection that proved, despite his clingy tendancies, he was his absolute best friend. "He's happy to entertain himself if I'm busy, but you better believe the second I step into another room he's right behind me."

Considering he spent most days and almost every night alone, though, the loyal companionship was appreciated.

"I've had him for—" God. How long had it been?

He mentally sifted through all the events leading up to becoming sole owner of a new dog. "Shit. I guess almost as long." At once it felt like he'd just opened the front door to find Kev waiting on the porch yesterday, and like they'd been together from the very start.

Scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck, he mused with a near silent laugh, "You could, uh, you could say he was a parting gift from my ex." She'd begged and begged for a dog to share but hadn't had any qualms about abandoning them both when things didn't work out.

She continued to munch a chip and brought her attention back to the dogs before Berk shared his knitting fail which really was a string of both of them attempting and attempting horrible collections of unwearable and unrecognizable creations. A laugh that sound more like a yelp from being that loud left her before she clapped a hand over her mouth. "Poor Kev, did you at least take a picture, I feel like we could both use a good laugh."

Rachel thought a moment, having a struggle of wording even her explanation. "I guess it just like feels like I'm both trying to look at it through a microscope and a bird's eye view." She raised her brows, her interest piqued by the offer. "Yeah? I would actually really love and appreciate that! Judge it as harshly as we judge the contestants of the Bachelor franchise, please. I want you to be brutally honest."

And in abundance.

It caught him off guard when they first met— how swiftly she deemed him worthy of being in her orbit. How bright and warm and welcoming she'd been to a man who had too many frowns and too little to say.

He still wasn't sure he deserved her friendship, but he wanted to keep it all the same.

Shifting his phone out of his pocket, Berk flicked through his photo album (it didn't take long, there wasn't much to be found) until a picture of Kev, failed sweater and all, filled the screen. "I think he still holds this particular atrocity against me."

But soon enough the chuckle that comment inspired tapered off. He grew serious and gave her a nod. "I can do that." Try to, at least. He didn't always have a filter when something needed to be said, but with her— There'd always be a fine line between brutally honest and an instinctive need to protect, even if only her feelings.

"Why don't you bring your laptop by tonight and I'll have a look?" Again, his shoulder leaned and knocked against hers. "You can even see Kev in his new sweater up close."

Wren loved slow days at Frontier, weekdays when the sun rose through the front windows and hit her stool behind the counter just right to warm her entirely. Thankfully, the closing team had already handled inventory-- a kindness they often extended when seeing she was the opener, and Wren was able to sneak a few chapters of her book in under the counter. She looked up each time the front door bells tinkled, offering a smile and a friendly 'Let me know if I can help you find anything!'

When the customer placed their finds on the counter, Wren stood and began scanning the items. "Find everything you need?" she asked with a genuine smile, though her mind was still half in the book. It was the best part about her routine, putting herself in an entirely different world for a while. Wren was happy enough with her life. Content, for sure... But part of her still longed to truly see the world. "Have you ever been abroad?" she asked the other somewhat abruptly as she bagged their items.

Berk lifted his gaze from what little remained in his basket, blinking slowly as if surprised by the question. Not the one where she asked whether he'd found everything okay, but the other.

Small talk wasn't something he often engaged in, but these days he seemed to get roped into it more and more often. He didn't mind. Not really. He just wasn't... used to it. Wasn't good at it.

Still, tiny crinkles formed against the corners of his eyes when he aimed for a brief smile. "Uh, yeah. A little bit." Great job. Very informative. Gold star.

Dealing with a significant rasp to his voice (had he spoken to anyone yet today?) Berk cleared his throat. "I went on a camping trip in Canada several years ago, and I, uh, I have some family in Turkey. We visit when we can."

Mulling about the holiday market was something that Emmy could always find time for, especially when it was basically right outside of her front door. Though, the fact that it may not be her front door for much longer weighed heavily on her, even though it was an offer that came from her in the first place. "You gonna tell me what you've been up to before I unload all of my emotional baggage on you?" She quipped with a bright smile in Berk's direction before taking a sip of the hot chocolate in her gloved hands. Maybe it didn't hit the same as a steaming cup of mulled wine, but outside of the night she'd gotten married, Emmy was trying to be fairly committed to her alcohol-free lifestyle — even if it was a pain in the ass more times than not.

It was true to an extent, at least in the fact that his days bordered on monotonously predictable always, but he flashed a small smile— the kind reserved solely for her. He’d been born with one sister right from the start but earned another the day Deniz towed Emmy out of the restaurant late one night, demanding they give her a ride. 

Deniz wasn’t here anymore, but Emmy? He’d do just about anything to keep her around. Even scrounge up what little he could to satisfy her curiosity, fully intending to circle back around to her ‘emotional baggage’ once he was done. 

“I have been spending time with someone new lately. Not like that—” those dark eyes narrowed before she could ask— “but she’s lost someone, too. Literally. Her sister went missing and I’ve been trying to help however I can. Which isn’t much, but…” Berk shrugged. “It’s not terrible feeling at least somewhat useful again.”

Then she'd always have them on her. "I heard that mace is better than a taser because they can use it on you."

But if it came down to a fight, Sophia had to believe in her own skills and ability to fight back.

"I'll give you a little taste of mine." Emphasis on the word little because they weren't the largest baked goods available. "It's amazing. I'm sure you'll love it. Not too sweet."

The personal assistant quieted down as he proceeded to explain his history with the woman he was avoiding. "She must have done more than expect a relationship out of this in the end. You went as far as to ask a stranger to save you from running into her."

Greedily, she was hoping to find some tea. "But don't worry, I'll make sure she doesn't come hunt you down as long as you protect me from any drinks or punches being thrown if she assumes that you've already moved on."

@berksozeri

Over the last five years he'd been accused of many flaws and called a number of horrible names in the aftermath of one failed 'relationship' or another. He took those verbal lashes with the kind of stoicism that'd rival a statue. But lattes thrown in his face was where he drew the line.

"Honestly, though, that's really all there is to the story. My life's not... all that exciting." An edge of his mouth twitched, almost as if apologizing for the fact that he didn't have more to entertain her with.

He wouldn't say it got easier to open up or make small talk out of his dating woes the longer they walked, but as they neared the small bakery those little hints and tells of amusement certainly felt less forced.

"I could always just get one for both of us. Then you don't have to make such a massive sacrifice on my behalf." There. See? Another mouth twitch. He wasn't a total lost cause.