Curiosity takes ahold of him, always pumping out more and more questions that will never escape from the mind to reality in exactly the same way that we want them to. What if I stole this bread? What if I had a few more pounds on my body? What if I didn't have to see every notch in my ribs? His answer lies in a loaf of bread that isn't his, a slice of meat from an animal he hasn't ever seen in his secluded Saint Petersburg life, a taste of heaven that he's only heard about from the nobles passing through the street.

I have only known Alexei Kozlov for a few conscious hours in total, yet I trust him enough to call him a friend and allow him to sleep at my house. However, I don't trust him not to steal this bread from the tiny market stand. He's done it before, but he hasn't dismantled the habit after the unfortunate situation that was his sister's death. He knows that it won't happen again, because the damage is already done. There are no more sisters to starve. He continues to steal bread.

His eye is trained precisely on his victim. He has no capacity to see me, for I am not what he seeks. If he can fill the howling pain settled deep in his body, and if he can do it for free, albeit illegally, he has to be careful. Alexei is hollow, yet there is still no space for mistakes. He watches, waits, selects his prize and his plan of attack. But I can't let him do it.

I, the good little rich boy Olivier Renaud, born to a wealthy family in Paris, have never starved. I cannot possibly pretend to understand what Alexei is going through each time he steals. However, I do know something. If he had money, I know he would use it to buy these products, but he does not. I trust his heart, but I do not trust his human instinct to follow it. And since I am fortunate enough to possess a large sum of wealth, it is my duty to share with those whom I made one dollar poorer for each time I became one dollar richer.

"Alexei," I call out to him.

His concentration snaps, and his curiosity shifts towards the expression he casts towards me. I've broken his current ambition, as I intend to fulfill it in a legal manner. Alexei's expression can only be painted as scandalized and taken off guard, and I'm sure he's also tired of seeing me around everywhere, especially now that I've foiled his plans.

"Olivier, what are you doing here? Don't you have a surplus of food at home? I doubt you need to be in this market buying it."

"Or stealing it, as you were on the brink of doing."

Alexei scowls, but he knows nonetheless that it's true. Yet he deflects me as always. "You don't know my life, Olivier."

"You're right. I don't. But at least let me buy some food for you."

"I don't want to live off of your handouts," he mutters, rotating slightly farther away from me to pretend like he's still shopping for his future victims when in reality he just doesn't want to confront me head on.

"Then don't think of them as handouts. Think of them as a gift from a friend." I smile, but it does not sway Alexei -- I'm discovering that he's more stubborn than I first thought. I place a caring hand on his shoulder but find an unwelcoming flinch. "Look, if it makes you feel any better, I can buy this food and invite you to a picnic as friends immediately after."

"Calling a thing something else doesn't make it a different thing."

"But alas, I'm already assembling my picnic!" I shrug with a smile, thinly feigning innocence as I grab some fruits.

Alexei crosses his arms defiantly, but I catch a poorly hidden smile emerging. It's cute to see him try to conceal it.

After a long battle of trying to convince Alexei to come along for a nice picnic with me, we now promenade through the streets of our minds, telling each other stories and sharing details about ourselves that had never made it to the light before. I've unearthed parts of Alexei's personality that I had never considered before -- for example, I've found that Alexei is sophisticated despite having dropped out of school early, in possession of many jokes and abundant humor, and considerate of human lives that he's never even encountered before. He knows the human psyche, and he knows his own better, and because of this, he is understanding. He understands both himself and me, which makes it simple to talk to him. Despite this simplicity, he is incredibly intelligent. His knowledge stretches far beyond his years, far beyond what even some college thinkers can manage. He seems as though he is heavily burdened yet is still freer than I could ever be.

I like him more with each word that he says to me. I like the kind of emotion he installs in me. He makes my heart flutter, and I don't even know why, but I like that, too. I don't understand what happens inside me when I see him, but I think it's a good feeling. His eyes hold so many secrets that I want to be a part of, secrets that I have to uncover. I think I would profit from seeing him more often.

I take a grape from the cluster that I bought at the market, chewing it into a swallowable mush before I share some news. "There's a ball tonight with a bunch of French aristocrats, and you're my only friend who knows my opinion on them."

"I think I'm your only friend at all, actually."

"You're terrible." I lightly punch his arm and roll my eyes. "Anyway, I can't survive this ball alone, and I was wondering if you would like to come along with me."

This sounds like a very dangerous proposal for Alexei. His raggedy self would be an eyesore in a chamber of elegance and wealth. He would be the center of attention, and not for a respectable reason. This isn't a place for him. But I want to invite him anyway. I'll protect him.

A gasp. "Sounds great to be surrounded by a bunch of annoying rich people, my favorite group of people on Earth!" he exclaims, faking enthusiasm poorly enough to be recognized as a joke. "Only one small problem: I don't speak French."

"God, I wish I didn't either. Then I wouldn't have to listen to their incessant chatter."

Every ball is the same. I can't even distinguish them anymore. They pass and pass and pass out of my memory by the time I return home. They're so monotonous and boring, and within each second I feel a full century turn into another. Each moment is punctuated by sharp laughing caused by an unfunny comment. It goes on like this for the entire night and into the early morning. The attendees believe that they're amusing themselves well, but in reality it's all fake.

I need a reprieve from that. I need a person who has never experienced this type of life and is therefore not subjected to its effects. I need a refreshing person. I need someone who can distract me from the haughty life of royals. I need Alexei.

"But seriously -- if I'm going along with you, I need to be able to communicate. I won't be able to survive a night where the only language being spoken is a language that I can't understand. Why bring me to a ball if I can't communicate with the people I'll meet there? This sounds like a disastrous idea if I'm left alone with a girl on the dance floor. I don't know how to dance, but I can't even tell her that because I don't speak her language."

I imagine Alexei being completely lost on the dancefloor, and I feel a bit bad for laughing, but it's not such an implausible idea. He has reason in being worried about this. I guess I'll just keep him away from dancing. I doubt any French aristocrats would like to mingle with a Russian street urchin who can't even talk to them. Yes, he's handsome, but it's likely that rich people can smell outsiders and will be repelled nonetheless.

"Fine, fine, I'll translate for you. And just a heads up -- my sister is coming from France today and will be at the ball, and she's always so interested in my life, so she'll definitely want to meet you. My parents probably will, too."

Alexei shakes his head frantically, his panic rising more and more with each detail I tell him. "Hell no. I can deal with your sister but not your parents. They'd judge me too hard."

"If they judge you, I'll tell them off by confessing how lovely you are."

Alexei huffs out a labored sigh, which I know means a surrender. "Okay, fine. I know people judging me is inevitable, but I'll go with you anyway. You're giving me those puppy dog eyes, and I bet you aren't even aware of it."

I seize his hand excitedly, picking him up from the ground and beginning to collect the remnants of our picnic. "Well let's get ready then!"

He rolls his eyes as I drag him away, although it's shipped with a small smile. "You're evil."