Emperor of Mayhem

20

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"Mr Varkov, how come your bed is softer than mine? I mean, mine is okay but why does yours feel like I'm floating on a cloud?" I patted around the bed beneath me, my gaze shifting between him and the bed.

This might be the most random question ever but it troubled me enough to have to ask. There was a way the bed felt like cotton under my skin, soft and tender. I wanted to make it mine.

"I don't know, Azania." He replied from behind his study desk, his gaze never shifting from the screen of his laptop, "I guess I'm just...lucky?" Then he shrugged, his eyes falling on me briefly before they returned to the device before him.

I didn't go to school today because Mr Varkov was still in bad shape so he couldn't drive. He also said it wasn't safe for me to go if he wasn't the one to take me.

Filip's laptop, though, was in my custody and the plan was for me to return it to him today at school. But I couldn't bring myself to convince Mr Varkov to find another means for me to get to school. I had a feeling if I did end up persuading him, he would've probably asked Alexei, and heaven knew I would rather drop out of school completely than be in the same space with that young soldier. For Christ's sake he looked like he couldn't wait for a chance to squeeze the life out of me.

So no school and definitely no cell phone to keep me entertained, meant an excruciating kind of boredom, especially in a house with high and unending walls like Mr Varkov's. So after I finished all the episodes of the sitcom on Filip's laptop, I craved entertainment but couldn't find any. Desperate, I had to turn to Mr Varkov, hoping if we found a topic that interested both of us, I wouldn't feel this depressed. But when I got to his room, he was already occupied behind his desk, doing God knows what on his laptop.

He had looked pretty busy and serious with whatever it was he was doing that he didn't even lift his gaze when he ushered me in, nor did he object when I crashed on his bed. But staring at him smacking the keys of his laptop wasn't exactly the most thrilling to watch, you know? If anything, it made me more bored. So bored I could die.

"Arrgh!" I groaned, throwing a pillow onto the floor while thrashing around on the bed, hands pulling at the root of my curls.

"Are you sure you are okay?" He had peeked at me through hooded eyes, his brows slightly knitting and his gaze sceptic, "Is this like an episode of yours or something? Are you on your period?"

"No, ewww, shut up!" I yelled in reply to the last part, "I'm just bored, okay? So bored watching football matches would be absurdly considered entertaining right now."

"You want to watch a football match?" He asked, confused.

I lifted a hand and slapped it over my forehead, "That was sarcasm, Mr Varkov, sarcasm." I said through clenched teeth, "I'm saying that I'm so bored, I might actually find the thing I hate the most entertaining. Or aren't you bored, Mr Varkov?"

"Nope." He replied curtly, eyes so focused on the screen they began to reflect the blue light, orbs burning brighter than the stars ever could, "I'm having the time of my life."

"What are you even doing?" I lifted my head off the pillow, adjusting on my side with my elbow propped up so my hand could support my cheek, "You've been on that for an hour straight."

"I'm tryna do your father's job," he scanned whatever was displayed on the screen, a hiss leaving his lips before he resumed typing furiously on the device again, "It turned out harder than I thought but hey, I love a good challenge."

"Which work is that?" I didn't wait for him to answer as I skipped off the bed, my bare feet padding against the tiles until I reached behind the desk, standing next to him. It was high time I actually took a peek at what kind of work dad used to do for him.