Saturday is a busy day. I've arranged to meet Gabi and Tessa, and I make Aksel come along, so he won't be left to his own devices with nothing to do.

"Don't you want to meet them alone?" he asks, even as we're on our way to meet them. "I'll be in the way of your girl talk."

"Well, yeah, I guess we won't be able to talk about you with you there," I tease. I look up at him, but he doesn't smile. "Hey," I say, deliberately walking diagonally so that I bump against him, "I was joking. We don't gossip about you."

He relaxes a bit. "No?" We are walking close together, but he makes no move to grab my hand or any other such thing. "What about what you really think of Finland?"

His words go through me like a shaft of ice. Why is he bringing this up again?

"Aksel–" I begin, but we've already come to the meeting place. Gabi and Tessa are already there. I check the time on my phone screen; they're early. We're right on time.

Their faces light up with the see me, and the two of them rush over to envelop me in a big group hug. I'm smiling so hard that my cheeks hurt. We stand together in a lump, the three of us, not letting go of each other for a long moment.

Then Gabi pulls back and runs her gaze over my face, as if trying to check if I'm fine with her own eyes. "Are you okay?" she asks softly. Her gaze doesn't leave me for a minute as she awaits my answer. I remember, then, that I hadn't sounded okay, the last time I spoke to her.

"I'm good. Everything is great." I grin at her. It's sweet, how concerned she is. I almost feel embarrassed about crying to her and Tessa over the phone; now they're going to think I'm miserable in Finland. It wasn't that big a deal, really. I was just homesick. And now that I'm home, things are coming back into perspective. Life in Helsinki isn't as bad as I made it out to be in recent weeks. I don't know why I was being such a crybaby, so over-sensitive about things.

"Honestly?" Tessa demands. "Tell the truth."

"I am telling the truth," I exclaim. "I was just a little homesick. It was a bad day. I'm fine now." I sneak a peek at Aksel's face, and see that his eyes are downcast and his lips are pressed into a straight line.

"You'd better not be lying," Tessa warns me. Gabi elbows her in the ribs, and Tessa turns to mock-glare at Gabi. "What?"

Gabi just shakes her head. "It's great that you're back," she tells me. "It was really getting on my nerves, having to deal with this one all on my own."

"Hey!" Tessa complains, and I laugh. I've missed my best friends in the world.

"Hei," Gabi says to Aksel, turning to him with a friendly smile. She heads over to shake his hand in greeting, and Tessa does the same. Over the past two years, they've met several times, mostly when Aksel had come to Hamburg to visit me. As far as I can tell, all of them get along quite well – close enough for a greeting hug, if they had wanted to. But Gabi and Tessa have learnt, through past visits, that greeting hugs tend to make Aksel freeze up, and so they've always kept to handshakes with him.

"Moin moin," Aksel says to the both of them.

Gabi laughs, and responds in kind, while Tessa smacks him lightly on the shoulder even as she says to me, "You've taught him well."

I can only laugh. He does this, every single time he comes to Hamburg. I am always a little surprised he remembers this form of greeting. I've only told him about it once, back in Edinburgh long ago. He has remembered it all this while.

"Let's go somewhere," I say then, hopping from foot to foot. It's cold outside. "Where shall we go?"

"What about Starbucks?" Gabi suggests, knowing the only kind of coffee I can stand is the sweetened kind.

"Okay," I say, perking up. It's been a while since I've been to Starbucks. I've seen one in Helsinki's city centre, right opposite a bookstore, but I've never gone in. "I haven't had Starbucks in ages. Are there any seasonal drinks available now?"

"Oh, yeah," Gabi laughs. "They're still selling the special Christmas drinks."

"Ooh," I breathe, clapping my hands together.

"The usual dilemma?" Gabi teases. She and Tessa both know I can never choose between my favourite two Christmas drinks at Starbucks.

"Damn it," I mutter, grimacing. This is a hard choice to make. I want both.

"What dilemma?" Aksel speaks up now. He's been walking behind us, so quiet that I've almost forgotten he is with us.

Tessa answers. "Emi can never decide between two of the Christmas drinks. She loves them both."

"The gingerbread latte and the honey-and-almond hot chocolate," I offer.

"Latte?" Aksel asks. He is looking at me with a slight frown. "I thought you hate coffee."

"Not the sweet ones," Tessa laughs.

"Coffee gives me a headache," I correct her, "Even the sweet ones."

"Why do you still drink them, then?" Tessa challenges. "If that's true, the dilemma shouldn't exist at all."

I pout. "But I like drinking them."

Gabi glances at Aksel, then ventures, switching to English, "Should we speak in English...?"

"German is fine," Aksel replies, in German, as he has been all along.

"Thank you," says Tessa, so fervently it makes Gabi and me laugh. Tessa does decently in written English, and even at listening, but she's not that good at speaking it. But I can't blame her, because I'm the same way with Finnish.

That reminder has the power to sink a rock into my stomach, but I shake it off. My incompetence in Finnish isn't something I can change overnight. And I'm in Hamburg right now, not Finland. I want to enjoy the rest of my time here. I'll worry about my Finnish when we get back to Helsinki.

The Starbucks is right down the street from our meeting point. Pretty soon, the four of us are seated in a warm booth. I'm sitting on the inside, right against the wall, with Aksel beside me and the other two opposite. Tessa is directly across from me, and she asks me, "Well, have you decided? What do you want, then?"

"Maoam," I respond with the first thing that comes to mind, laughing when Tessa rolls her eyes at me. Gabi chuckles.

I glance over at Aksel and see the blank look on his face. He has no idea what we are laughing about. I feel bad. I know exactly how he feels. It is the way I have felt in Helsinki, when he and his friends reference Finnish things that I have never heard of. I know how awkward it feels, how this feeling makes your heart twist inside and makes you want to shrink into the background. I don't want him to feel this way.

I grab his hand under the table. He starts and looks at me. "It's the German slogan for Maoam," I explain to him. I'm pretty sure he knows what Maoam is – I've seen the brand of sweets in Finland, too. I wonder what the slogan is, in Finnish. "Well, it was a lame joke, really."

"Oh," Aksel says. He is smiling faintly at me. I feel him squeeze my hand, like he is trying to tell me, without words, that he appreciates the attempt to include him on the joke.

"Very lame," Tessa agrees, and I stick my tongue out at her in retaliation. She rolls her eyes again at my childish act, "How old are you, Emi? Twelve?"

"If I'm twelve, you must be eleven and a half," I retort, sticking out my tongue at her again. "I'm older than you, silly."

"You sure don't act like it," Tessa grumbles, lifting her gaze skyward in exasperation.

I roll my eyes back at her.

Gabi lets out a noise that sounds like half-snort, half-laugh. "Man, you both never grow up. Come on, let's order, already."

I grimace, scrunch up my face, tap my finger against the table until Tessa demands for me to stop, before I finally decide. "I'll get the hot chocolate, I guess."

Gabi seems to be the self-appointed order-person for all of us, and Tessa names her order next. Gabi nods, then turns to Aksel.

"I'll have that gingerbread latte," he says.

I blink in bewilderment. "But you hate sweetened coffee!" I'd thought he would've ordered his usual dark roast, or something. Black coffee. That's the only kind he drinks.

Aksel looks at me. There is something in his eyes that makes my heart skip a beat. "So you don't have to choose between them both."

I stare, then I beam at him. He is too good to me.

"Oh, my God," Tessa says, glaring at us. "The two of you are disgusting."

I feel a heat in my cheeks, and hope I'm not blushing. That would be too embarrassing. "Oh, oh," I say to Gabi, who is looking quite amused at Tessa's disdain, "I want a muffin too!"

"The plum-and-cinnamon muffin, right?" Gabi says. "Gotcha."

"Your friends know you very well," Aksel comments, when Gabi has left to place our orders.

"Of course," I say, "we've known each other since we were nine or something. We grew up together."

"That feels like a lifetime ago," Tessa muses. "Has it really been that long?"

"Yeah," I say, with a chuckle, "we're getting old."

"Says the most childish one out of all of us," Tessa laughs. "That's ironic."

I cast her a look of exasperation, but I don't argue. She's right, I suppose. I'm not a very mature person – just look at how much Aksel has to take care of me all the time.

We pass the rest of the day like this – chatting, catching up, and teasing each other. It is amazing, being with my two best friends again. Aksel stays mostly quiet the whole time, speaking up only occasionally, when he is spoken to directly. Otherwise, he seems content to lean back in his seat, watching us with pensively. Sometimes, as I get a little too excited talking to the other two, I catch him looking directly at me with half-lidded eyes, as if he's thinking about something bleak. But every time our eyes meet, he smiles faintly and looks away. Several times, I try to draw him into the conversation, but he always falls silent after a few short answers, seeming content to leave us to it.

All too soon, we're standing outside in the dark, reluctantly bidding each other goodbye.

"I wish I could spend more time with you guys," I say, lips pursed up unhappily. "But we're flying back tomorrow."

"Just come back soon," Tessa says.

I laugh lightly. As if it's that easy.

"We're always here for you if you want to talk, okay?" Gabi tells me as we hug goodbye. "It doesn't matter if it's the middle of the night. Just call."

I feel tears prick my eyes. I have such good friends here. I tighten my arms around her briefly before I let go. "Yeah, I know," I say, smiling at her. "Thanks."

Then I move over to hug Tessa, who says, by my ear, "You know, you don't text much about your life whenever you're out of the country. That's not allowed anymore, unless you're having the time of your life there, then I'll consider forgiving you."

I let out a choked laugh. Tessa worries about me in her own way.

When Gabi and Tessa have left in the direction of the nearest tram stop, I turn to Aksel.

"So," I say, shivering a little in the wind, "should we head home now?"

"Let's go somewhere," he says quietly.

"Okay," I say, looking around. It's getting late and most of the shops are closing. "Where do you want to go? The harbour's nearby, if you want." I point, "We can get there from here by walking."

"The harbour, then," he says, waiting only long enough for my nod before he starts off ahead, leaving me to follow.

I walk slightly faster to catch up with him, slipping my hand into his when I'm close enough to. He starts a little, as if surprised, glancing down at our clasped hands like its something he doesn't understand. Then he looks back up at me, his eyes searching mine.

"It's okay to hold hands in public now?" he asks, so softly, I'm not sure I hear him right.

"Huh?"

He shakes his head then, falling silent. But his fingers tighten around mine as we walk on.

We're halfway there when we walk past a little food place that is still open. It's mostly empty, but there is one figure sitting in one of the outdoor seats. I glance in his direction, wondering who would be so ridiculous as to sit outside in this weather, when I realise... I know that ridiculous guy.

"Christian!" I exclaim, breaking away from Aksel to greet my old friend. He stands up when he sees me, and I greet him with a hug and quick kisses on both his cheeks. "What a coincidence!"

"Emi, hey," he says, grinning back at me, "I didn't know you were back in Hamburg."

"Oh, I'm back only for a weekend." Forgetting that Aksel is right beside me, I make a face. "I wish we could meet up for coffee or something, but I'm leaving tomorrow. Next time, I swear."

Christian laughs at me. "Yeah, that's what you always say. And then you fall off the face of the Earth for another two months or so."

I glare at him. "I do not! I don't know why everyone has the same misconception of me. I'm good at replying emails and messages, I am."

He's still chuckling. "Okay... Let's bet on it. If you manage to reply four of my Facebook messages in a row, I owe you ten euros."

"Easy money," I declare.

"You still owe me twenty euros from the last time we bet on something like that," he reminds me.

I stick out my tongue at him. "I'm going to win this one, and then I'll only owe you ten."

"We'll see," he smirks. Then he seems to realise, for the first time, that Aksel is with me. "Oh, hey," he says to Aksel, reaching out for a greeting handshake. "Nice to see you again."

"You too," Aksel says quietly, shaking his hand.

"Don't remind Emi about the bet," Christian tells Aksel.

"Hey!" I protest.

Aksel smiles, but he doesn't say anything.

Christian and I chat for a few more minutes. Aksel stands to the side, watching us silently, the way he watched me interact with Gabi and Tessa. When Christian and I finally bid each other goodbye, I turn back to Aksel. I smile at him, happy that I managed to run into another familiar face over here, "Let's go?"

At his curt nod, the two of us start heading for the harbour again. But this time, Aksel walks too far ahead and too quickly for me to even think about grabbing his hand.

We reach the harbour soon enough, and he stops there for a moment, not saying anything. I move closer to him, trying to get warmer. The wind here is always so strong. But still not as strong and bitter as the wind in Helsinki.

Aksel finally speaks.

"Remember when we first met? You said that you never feel like you belong anywhere. You were wrong." I cast him a curious look, wondering where he's going with this, and see that there is a grim curve to his lips. He's staring out over the harbour, as if seeing something I can't. His voice is very, very soft as he says this last sentence. "You belong very much in Hamburg."

His matter-of-fact statement surprises me. I've never thought of myself as belonging in Hamburg. I am too different from the mainstream, too much of a hybrid, to feel that way. But it is home here. It is the only home I can remember.

"Moving away has taught you what you needed to know all along, hasn't it?"

I don't know what he's talking about, so I stay silent. It doesn't matter – he's not looking for an answer. He already has one.

"You've learnt where you really belong."

"What are you talking about?" I ask. I don't know why the topic of conversation has gotten so serious all of a sudden. I thought we were having a good time in Hamburg.

"You're different in Hamburg," he says. He's still not looking at me. "Happier. More carefree. More confident." He stops for a moment, inhaling deeply. "In Hamburg, you worry less about your identity issues, about whether or not you belong."

"Hamburg is... Well, it's home," I say. He's partly right, though. When I'm back in Hamburg, I feel a sense of rightness. I can't say I truly belong here, but it's the one place I know like the back of my hand. It's the one place I come the closest to belonging. With over a million residents in the city, and a large part of them immigrants, it's easy to blend in, as long as you can speak the language and follow the customs. And I can do both.

Aksel is still speaking quietly. "I was wrong."

I open my mouth to say something, but the dark look in his eyes stops me. I hover beside him, wanting to reach out to touch him, but something holds me back. Something is wrong. I can see it in the stiffness of his entire countenance.

"I thought it was your mindset that you needed to change," he goes on, inclining his head slightly. He stares at the ground, giving it his unwavering attention, as if he can see the words he wants to say carved into the stone beneath his feet. "But it's not. You already think differently when you're back in Hamburg. It's Helsinki that makes you feel that way."

"No–" I try to deny it, but he looks at me then. The words dry up on my tongue at the resigned look I see in his eyes. Fear starts to bubble up in my throat. My vocal cords clench up. My lips part, but I find that nothing comes out.

Aksel looks away again. "When I suggested coming to Hamburg," he says, "And I saw you turn to me and smile like that... It hit me. The whole time we were in Helsinki, you never smiled like that."

"Aksel." My voice comes out in a croak. There is a pressure pushing against the back of my eyeballs – his voice sounds too calm; his words too certain. This is something he has been thinking about for a long time. This is a speech he has probably rehearsed in his head countless times. And I know there is something else coming – a decision. Something final.

Something bad.

He sighs now. "You hate it in Helsinki."

"I don't hate Helsinki," I whisper, my throat dry. "I don't hate living in Finland."

He doesn't seem to hear me. Or maybe he does. He just doesn't believe me. "I get it now," he continues, his voice soft. "That was what was happening. You didn't want to go out, because everything was in Finnish. And you hated that, because it reminded you that you weren't home. That's why it was so hard for you there. I thought it was just your identity issues, but it's not, is it?"

"No!" I exclaim, "I don't hate everything Finnish."

Is that why he was so silent the entire journey here? Was this what he had been thinking about?

Nothing is more important than he is, I think to myself frantically. Nothing. I would gladly live at the bottom of the ocean, if it's to be with him. And I do love Finland. I'm just having some problems adapting right away, that's all. This phase will pass. It has to.

I surge forward, grabbing his hands in mine, uncaring that I'm blubbering now. "It's just that it's winter," I say, choking on my words but desperate to stave off what I'm sure is coming next. "I got really homesick because it's so much longer... colder... darker than I'm used to. And I was missing my friends... It's just culture shock. I like living in Helsinki. In winter, it's simply too cold now. I..." My English is starting to fail me, and I find myself wondering wildly if he even understands what I'm saying. My face is wet by now.

He has stilled in shock at my reaction. "Hey." He pulls a hand out of my death-grip to cup the back of my nape and to pull me closer, bending down towards me so that we are practically nose-to-nose. "Why are you crying? Do you hate Helsinki so much that the thought of it can make you cry like this?" He is trying to lighten the mood, but there's a wariness around his eyes that tells me he is afraid of my answer.

I lunge forward and wrap my arms tightly around him, going on my tiptoes so that I can tuck my face into the crook of his neck. I inhale deeply, breathing him in, trying to calm myself enough to speak without breaking down completely. His hands come up to rub my back in soothing swipes. I find comfort in the repetitive action.

"I don't want to break up," I whisper against his skin, feeling fresh tears spring into my eyes as I give voice to my worst fear. "I'll adapt to living in Helsinki. I'll take classes. I'll get a job. I'll learn Finnish properly. I don't want to break up."

He is completely motionless for a moment, before his arms tighten around me in a bruising hug. "We're not breaking up," he says fiercely into my ear. "Never."

I continue clutching onto him, my tongue caught in a loop. "I don't want to break up."

Hamburg may be my childhood home. It may be a part of my heart, but Aksel is the whole of it. I can live outside of Hamburg, but I can't live without Aksel. Home is not necessarily a place. It can be a person. And Aksel is mine.

"Emilie." He pulls away so that we can look at each other. I reach up to wipe the tears from my face, feeling vaguely embarrassed. He always sees me at my worst. "Emilie, we're not breaking up."

"Okay," I mutter, biting my lip and lowering my eyes. My eyelashes still feel wet, and I find myself giving thanks that I always wear waterproof mascara. "When you started saying all that, I thought..."

"No. I was saying something else."

I stare at him, waiting.

"We'll move," he says, but there is a dimness in his eyes as he says this. He looks away from me, tilting his face back down towards the ground. "I can move to Hamburg."

"But living in Helsinki has always been your dream," I counter. "You love Helsinki. You love your job."

He raises his head and looks at me. "But I love you more."

Something warm blooms in my chest. Even though we've been together for two years now, these three words are still rare between us. I'm not sure why. Perhaps because neither of us are very verbally demonstrative people. And I've read somewhere that Finns aren't the type to say such things lightly. That if a Finn tells you he loves you, he's not going to repeat it often or maybe ever again.

But that's fine with me. I don't need him to say the words. I already know he loves me. I feel it in every single thing he does, every single word he says, every single look he gives me.

"No," I say, tears brimming my eyes. My heart is full with emotion. It's enough that he's willing to do this for me - to move, to give up on his dream of living in a place he has always wanted to, even from childhood. "No, we're staying in Helsinki. It's your dream."

He touches his thumb to my cheekbone, smiling wryly. "The dream means nothing if you're not happy."

"I'm happy wherever I am with you," I say, reaching up to clutch the hand he is cupping my cheek with. "I love you too, you know." I say it so rarely that I find myself shyly lowering my face as the words tumble off my lips.

He only smiles faintly at my declaration. "I know," he says.

I frown at him. "At least act a little more touched to hear it." He has taken the wind out of my sails.

"You were miserable in Helsinki," he says, resting his forearms on my shoulders while his fingers play lightly with my hair. "You could have left at any time. But you stayed. You even read all those ridiculous books about becoming Finnish. That's love, isn't it? I don't need to hear it; I already see it every day."

"I wasn't miserable," I mumble.

"You were," Aksel says, equally quiet. "It's okay. I know you were. Life is too different from what you're used to here."

I bite my lip. "I'll try," I promise. "I'll try harder."

Aksel smiles wryly at me. "Not too hard. You don't have to force yourself."

"It's not forcing myself if I want to," I counter.

"Do you really want to stay in Helsinki?" He is looking at me seriously, and I can see in his expression that all I have to do is say the word. All I have to do is say no, and he will move to Hamburg to make me happy.

And that is enough. It is enough knowing that he would do this for me.

"Yeah," I whisper, smiling at him – a real smile that has bloomed from the bottom of my heart. "We're staying in Helsinki."

***

This is it, I think to myself, on the flight back to Helsinki. I really have to make this work now. Aksel has given me a choice, and I have chosen Finland.

This time, I'm the one who is more than a little quiet throughout the journey. And it seems like Aksel and I have exchanged places, because, quiet as he was on the flight from Helsinki to Hamburg, he is in good spirits now. He holds my hand the entire flight, occasionally leaning in to murmur something in my ear.

As the plane lands, and my heart sinks together with the altitude, I look over to Aksel and see him watching the scenery out of the window intently. His expression is bland, but there is a spark in his eyes that tells me he is happy to be home. Because even though flying this route means that I am leaving my home, all it means to him is that he is returning to his.

The moment the wheels hits the ground with a jerk, he looks over at me and smiles. I press my lips together and drag them upwards, so I am smiling back.

I have to make this work now, I tell myself again, as we exit the aircraft. The all-too-familiar bitter wind hits me in the face, and I scrunch up my eyes as I try to stop myself from flinching away.

I had a choice, and I chose Helsinki.

I have to make this work now. I have to be happy here.