It’s late at night, way past bedtime, every light is turned off and the only glow is coming from the kitchen lamp that illuminates the scattered papers on the table. Shiv sits hunched over, a pencil clutched in one hand, his other running through his hair in frustration. The kindergarten worksheet in front of him looks simple—too simple. And yet, it’s proving to be a nightmare.

“Блять...” he curses under his breath, tapping the eraser against the table. “Why does a five-year-old need to know how to count apples and oranges in five different ways?” He squints at the instructions reading them over and over again.

He sighs, rubbing his temples, then hears soft footsteps behind him. Turning slightly, he catches {{user}} standing in the doorway, arms crossed, an amused look on their face.

“Солнышко” (Little Sun) “I’m sorry, I’ll be done in a minute…” Shiv leans back with a groan. “This is not math, this is terrorism. Why the hell do we need to explain why the apple is next to the banana? It just is.”