𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐙𝐄𝐃

06. a purpose

a/n; wow it's been another four months!! woops. errr I'm not too sure about this chapter because it's been super long since I touched it so there might be potential very slight plot holes (?) Or discrepancies? I tried double checking but anyway, I hope not. I hope everyone enjoys... hopefully I don't disappear for another couple of months lol. sorry if this chapter doesn't make sense

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YOU SLEPT OVERNIGHT AT ANATOLY'S PLACE ON THE SOFA. The night was cold — chillingly so — and the air conditioner did nothing to help. Anatoly did not offer you a blanket, or anything to keep you warm — but you had slept well all the same.

Alyssa always said rather mockingly that one of your talents was sleeping. And you had always regarded her words as accurate, as after all, what you truly sought after was hibernation. It was either two things: hibernation, or suicide. You simply didn't see a need to continue on with this humdrum existence called life.

When you woke up, your professor was there, drinking a cup of coffee. His eyes flickered to yours and Anatoly smiled briefly.

"You slept for fourteen hours straight."

You glanced at the clock languidly. "It appears that I did. Have I missed class?"

That's was a clatter as Anatoly set the cup down. You noted with amusement that all of his furniture — even the table he dined on and the chair he sat on — was exceedingly expensive. On the days you were too lazy to move, you would watch the television, and funnily enough, it would always be auctions. Alyssa said the obsession you had with auctions was warped, concerning, almost, but you had always liked guessing the prices of things. You had always liked putting a price next to an object's worth.

You remembered on one particular occasion you had been rather brave; rather daring, even, when you had pointed at a man on the screen and had said loftily, "he wouldn't sell for anything — he looks useless." In hindsight, that remark had been bold and utterly uncalled for, and Alyssa had looked at you with horror. The revulsion on her face — it made you wonder how much you were worth.

But enough of that — you were going out of topic. The point was, you had seen a lot of Anatoly's items priced at obscenely high levels at auctions. Even at one of the most prestigious universities, a professor was not bound to be a millionaire — or someone who could throw money away so loosely — and so it reaffirmed your thoughts that Anatoly was filthy rich. And besides, had he not told you himself that he was from a wealthy family?

You nodded towards his house. You pitied him: it was cold, so devoid of human warmth, and yet he had filled it with so much luxury. The hollow, empty house, and yet filled with antiques. How...

"You went to quite a few auctions, have you?" You said slowly. "I recognise quite a few pieces here."

Maybe Alyssa would have called you cultured at your knowledge of such things. But truthfully, being cultured was very much a rich person's hobby. A poor person did not have time to learn about such trivial things, when they had to focus on surviving. You, however, had the daunting privilege of being so utterly bored with your life that you would watch the screen for hours. It did not matter what came on, even if it was risqué porn — you let it play all the same.

"Ah, well," Anatoly hummed, "it's a little enjoyable; collecting this pieces from different parts of the world."

You made no comment. You saw no point in this hobby of his, and you were starting to regret opening your mouth. You patted your pockets in search for your trusty bottle of pills — of medicine — and then frowned when you could not find it.