It's hot in the bar. I'm stuck in the corner of the booth, squashed up between the wall and Aksel. He has his arm slung around my shoulders, pulling me into him, but his attention is turned towards Lumi, who is sitting on his other side. She's laughing at something he's saying in quick Finnish.

Across the table, Janne and Matias are lazily chatting, pausing once every so often to take long drinks out of their beer mugs. Aliisa is sitting on Janne's other side, her feet propped up on the seat across – the seat Lumi is perched on. She is looking away from the rest of us, at the bartender, who seems to be staring back.

It's Friday night, and Aksel and I are hanging out with the gang. That's what Aksel calls them. The gang. They are so close, they meet at least once every weekend, usually in a bar near the city centre. This time, Aksel has invited me to come along.

"It'll be fun to have you there," he told me, when I had hesitated. "We're just going to have a few beers and relax. It will be nice, I promise."

In truth, being packed into a booth with the rest of them is starting to feel slightly claustrophobic.

I wonder if I can feign a headache and head home early. It wouldn't even be a complete lie – the metal music blaring from the speakers is starting to give me a headache.

Just then, Lumi leans over Aksel to smile at me. "So, Emilie," she begins.

"Emi," I interject. "Emi. Call me Emi."

She blinks, surprised. Her gaze drifts over to Aksel, who is smiling a little, the kind of half-smile one gets when privy to some sort of inside joke. I know what she's thinking – Aksel calls me by my whole name. He's the only one who does that.

Lumi shrugs. "Emi," she agrees. "So, how are things with you?"

"Ehm..." I shrug, and smile a smile that feels more like a grimace. "They're going okay, I guess." And then I reach for my beer and take a sip.

Gross. I swallow the mouthful and try to smooth out my expression. Beside me, Aksel is watching. He gives me a look, not unlike the one he had given me when I had ordered a beer like all the others.

"Oh." Lumi looks at a loss for words for a moment. She blinks again, big blue eyes moving to look across the table at Janne, as if seeking help. Janne is still deep in conversation, this time with Aliisa. Matias is looking at us, but he doesn't say anything. Lumi turns back to me. "I heard you've started Finnish classes at the university?"

"Yeah." I don't want to talk about this. I don't want to talk about my Finnish classes with a Finn. Contrary to what Aksel believes, I can't do it. I'm still going for the classes, but I'm not doing any better. And I haven't told him – I can't tell him – that I have developed a sort of disdain for the class. For the language.

The day after that disastrous pop quiz, Elina had pulled me aside. "I want to help you, Emilie."

"Emi," I had said, almost by rote.

"Emi," Elina had repeated. "Maybe we can work out something. What are the parts you don't understand?"

I had shrugged, my eyes trained on the floor. Everything, I had wanted to say. I don't understand anything.

Lumi is starting to look uncomfortable now, but she presses on, "How's the class?"

I look down in what is starting to become a habit now. "It's okay," I say.

I don't know what Aksel has said to the rest, but they always only speak English to me now. Maybe he's told them about my breakdowns. Maybe they gossip about me behind my back: poor little Emi, unable to fit in, to get used to life over here. So stupid when it comes to learning our language.

Maybe I'm a joke to them. A laughingstock. Maybe they all secretly hate me. I already know they only put up with me because of Aksel. We have nothing else in common.

"I've heard Finnish is one of the hardest languages in the world to learn if you're not a native speaker," Aliisa says abruptly. I look up at her, and see that she is staring at me with unblinking eyes. Her eyes are light – lighter than Aksel's. It is disconcerting to stare into them for long.

"Yeah," I say, looking away. "That's what I've heard, too."

"That's not necessarily true," Matias says. He is lounging back in his seat, almost-empty beer mug dangling from his fingers. He glances at me, then turns to Aliisa, who looks unimpressed by his statement. "It depends on your mother tongue. Finnish wouldn't be that difficult to pick up for Estonians, for example."

Well. Too bad I'm not Estonian, then.

"That makes sense," Aliisa agrees grudgingly. "But it's probably still the hardest for someone who's unfamiliar with Uralic languages."

Aksel tightens his hold over my shoulders. "Well," he says, "I think Finnish isn't that hard. It has its own rules and structure, like any other language. You just have to learn them."

A flare of anger rises up in me. I forcefully shake off his arm, and speak before I think the better of it, "Of course you'd say that. It's your native language. It comes naturally to you."

He looks dumbfounded for a split second, before his gaze chills and he presses his lips together.

Lumi and Janne are looking at each other, and Matias is looking into the bottom of his mug, but Aliisa is leaning forward and regarding me with interest. "So, Emi," she says with a raise of her eyebrows, "Do you agree? Do you think Finnish is the hardest language to learn?"

It is for me, I want to say, but I shrug. I stand up now, as well as I can in what tiny space I have. "Sorry," I say, in Lumi's direction; not looking directly at Aksel. "I've got to go to the toilet. Can I just...?"

Lumi slides out of the booth, and Aksel follows suit. I can feel all their eyes on me as I totter out and head for the sign marked 'WC' towards the back of the bar.

Under the fluorescent lights of the restroom, I stare at my pale face in the mirror. Then I exhale loudly and look down at the sink.

I really shouldn't have said that. Aksel had been speaking up for me, and I had snapped at him in front of his best friends.

I squeeze my eyes shut and stay there for a while.

***

As I near the table, I can tell that they've switched back to speaking Finnish in my absence. None of them have noticed me yet, so I stand there for a bit and watch them. They're all leaning forward, towards each other, and rattling away, fully engaged in conversation.

Then Aksel looks up and sees me. The others follow his gaze. Their conversation dies down, and, as I walk towards them, Janne says one last thing in Finnish, making the others laugh.

"You're ridiculous, Janne," Lumi says in English, shaking her head. But she is smiling, too.

Janne spread his hands, "Hey, come on. You find it funny, too."

Aliisa joins in with a dry rejoinder, and Matias gives a snort.

I wonder if Aksel has said anything to them while I was gone.

Now that they're all speaking in English, the pace is different. It's slower. It can't be easy for them to have to switch to their third language just for the sake of one silly foreigner. If I wasn't here, they would be able to converse in Finnish, to relax.

Lumi starts to slide out of the booth to let me in.

"It's okay," I say, gesturing with one hand for her to stay put. "If you two shift in, I can just sit outside."

She stares at me. From the other side of her, Aksel is staring at me, too.

"No..." Lumi gets up and waves me in with a weak smile. "You should sit beside Aksel." She turns to look at him, sees the expression on his face, and lets out a genuine laugh. "Look at him. He's going to whine the whole time if you don't."

But they were talking. I don't want to sit in the middle – it's going to be awkward. Both Aksel and Lumi are looking at me expectantly, though, so I slide into the space Lumi has vacated for me, mumbling, "Sorry. I don't want to inconvenience you."

"Don't worry," Lumi reassures me, taking her seat. "It's no trouble at all."

Aksel doesn't move in when I sit down, so my jean-clad thigh is touching his from the sheer lack of space. But he doesn't stretch his arm out across my shoulders again, like he was doing before.

I flick my eyes sideways at him. Is he angry with me?

He doesn't seem to notice my perusal. He is deep in conversation with Matias and Janne. They're talking about ice hockey, and even though the conversation begins in English, it soon lapses back into Finnish, now that I'm not involved.

"So..." Lumi starts, then trails off. She can't think of anything to say to me.

She's trying, though. I should probably try, too.

"How..." I try, "How's your work going?"

"Oh." Lumi looks surprised that I've offered a line of conversation, then smiles in obvious relief. "It's going well. Our firm has a big client at the moment, so it's been kind of busy, but also fun. I like my job."

I don't know how to respond to that. "That's  nice."

Lumi smiles again, but now it looks slightly more forced.

I'm starting to feel like the air is slowly being sucked out of the room. I don't want to sit here anymore, surrounded by people I don't really care about, who don't really care about me, trying to make some inane small talk.

Whatever happened to that Finnish stereotype about hating small talk? It feels like, since coming to Finland, it's the only type of conversation I routinely engage in.

"I think I'm coming down with something. Maybe I'll head off early." I mean to say this to just Lumi, but, as it turns out, everyone at the table hears it.

I see them exchange glances. Everyone seems to be looking at Aksel all of a sudden, who glances at each of them in turn before turning to look at me.

Nobody seems to know what to say, until Aliisa comments, a little coldly, "If you don't want to hang out with us, just say so."

"Aliisa!" Lumi hisses, the same moment Aksel shoots her a look.

The sour feeling in my chest is spreading. "I'm really not feeling well," I say in a small voice. I feel like crying.

Aksel slowly gets to his feet, even though he has to keep his knees bent due to the cramped space in the booth. "I think we'll be leaving now," he says.

"You don't have to come with me," I mumble at the table. Lumi is starting to get up too, to let the both of us out. "You should stay. You guys have fun."

"Nah," Aksel says. He puts a hand on my lower back as I scoot, sideways, out of the booth. "I think I'm getting a little bit drunk. I should go home and sleep it off."

There is a little silence. I suppose all of them are privately thinking to themselves, like I am, how ridiculous that statement sounds, coming from Aksel.

Then Aliisa springs up from her seat, "Okay, then. I'll go sit with Lumi. More space for me."

Janne rolls his eyes. "You just want a better view of the bartender."

Lumi laughs. "I thought I was the only one who noticed them practically eye-fucking each other."

"Trust me," Matias says dryly, "All of us have noticed it."

"At least I'm going to have a good night tonight," Aliisa shoots back. It could've been sheer coincidence that she glances at me and Aksel as she says this, but it is probably on purpose.

I set my jaw and look down.

Aksel shakes his head with a chuckle. "Okay, wild child. Have fun. Don't get too fucked up."

Janne raises his mug in a mock toast. "We'll be drinking your share tonight."

"Good luck with that," Aksel says seriously, and the others laugh. Out of all of them, Aksel is the one that can best hold his liquor.

"Good night," Lumi says, her eyes flicking over me to land on Aksel.

"Good night," I mumble, even though I'm sure none of them can hear me.

"Night," says Aksel, and puts his arm around me as we walk out the door.

***

We are halfway home before Aksel asks, in a quiet voice, "Do you have a problem with my friends?"

"No," I say, even though another part of me also wants to say: Can't you tell? They feel as uncomfortable around me as I do with them.

At least, Lumi does. I'm not certain about the guys, but Aliisa hates me.

Aksel seems to know what I'm thinking.

"I know Aliisa can sometimes be a bit..." He trails off, apparently at a loss of words to describe what Aliisa can sometimes be a bit like. He drums his fingers against the steering wheel before starting up again. "You know, I think she likes to challenge people. But she's all bark and no bite. You don't need to worry about her."

"Right." He's said all this before. And then, because I'm suddenly angry at the way he always defends her, I say, "I think she hates me."

"Of course she doesn't," is his knee-jerk reaction. "She's just..."

"Rude?" I jump in as he hesitates to search for an appropriate word.

He sighs. "It's not being rude. She's just a bit more straightforward. It's normal in Finnish culture."

I snort.

"I'm serious," he insists. "If you knew our culture better..." Then he stops abruptly.

I make a loud, exasperated noise to show my derision. "Really? The cultural-differences excuse?"

"It's not an excuse. It's a fact. We do have cultural differences. You have to admit that."

He's getting angry and defensive, but so am I. "Right." I cross my arms over my chest, as if the motion can block him out. "So I can be rude to you and explain it all away with the simple words: 'it's cultural differences'."

"No, I mean–" He makes a noise of impatience himself. "You're not trying to understand. We have a very straightforward culture–"

"And Germans beat around the bush?" I ask sarcastically. Germans are also known for how straightforward we can get. Sometimes, it even borders on rude, if you're not used to it. But we say it like we see it.

Aliisa wasn't being like that. She was being hostile. If Aksel can't see that...

"No." I can hear his frustration through the way he ekes out that one word. "It's just a different way of being straightforward. The Finns are very different from the Germans."

"I know that. I'm German too."

"I wasn't saying you aren't."

"It didn't sound like that," I snap. "Or maybe that's a cultural difference too."

He inhales, long and loud in the silence that's only punctured by the noises of the car engine and the friction of the wheels on the road. "Stop twisting my words."

"I'm not. You were the one who was using cultural differences as an excuse for plain rudeness."

"I'm just trying to tell you, Aliisa doesn't mean anything by it."

"Right," I say sarcastically. "So all Finns are assholes – got it. That makes plenty of sense now."

He glances sharply at me before returning his eyes to the road. "You know saying things like that isn't helping, right?"

I bite my tongue. It feels as if the temperature in the car has dropped ten degrees. Aksel doesn't look at me anymore.

When we pull up in front of the apartment building, Aksel turns off the engine and remains sitting in the car. I unclip my seatbelt, waiting for him to say something, but he doesn't.

After a moment, he gives a sharp shake of his head, then opens the door and climbs out.

I follow suit.

Back in the apartment, Aksel flips on the lights and moves around the room, turning on the radiator, drawing the curtains.

I sit down on the bed, shrugging off my coat and letting it pool on the floor. The cold air puckers my skin – the room isn't sufficiently heated up yet. Aksel, on the other hand, looks perfectly at ease. As usual, what is cold to me is probably the perfect temperature for him.

I turn to look at the time on the clock by the bedside. Ten twenty-three. Stopping beside me, Aksel shifts his gaze in the same direction.

"I didn't mean it," I murmur, looking down at the bedspread.

Aksel remains standing, but he pauses. "I know Aliisa can be a little rough around the edges," he says. I notice he's taking care not to bring up the term 'cultural differences' again. "It's the way she is. She doesn't mean any harm."

"Yeah, I mean... It's just uncomfortable for me, that's all."

"I'll talk to her about it."

"No!" I burst out. That's the worst possible thing he could do. "That will make it worse. Just leave it."

He stuffs his hands into his pockets. "I want you to be comfortable with my friends, Emilie. They should be your friends, too."

"It takes time," I echo a sentiment he usually says to me. I don't bother telling him that they will never truly be my friends. He is the only thing I have in common with them.

He stays silent.

"Sorry," I say then. "It's Friday night – you should be out with your friends, not home early."

He shifts forward, so that he is hovering over me. "It's okay. It's nice to have a relaxing night in with you sometimes."

I purse my lips, not saying anything. He's just saying that to be nice.

He seems to have read my mind. "I mean it," he says, reaching out to lay his hand on my knee.

"If you say so."

He looks at me for a long moment, then moves in to kiss me on the mouth – lightly, hesitantly. In a way he's never done before, because he's never had to second-guess what's been between us from the very start. Then he stops and lifts his head to look at me, as if waiting to see my reaction. I reach up and frame his face in my hands.

"Okay?" he asks, in a whisper.

I don't reply, but I yank him down towards me and kiss him, hard. He loses his reserve then, pressing the entire length of his body against mine as his hands move to divest me of my clothing. And then the fire is back – the fire that had drawn us to each other in the first place, over two years ago on that night in Edinburgh. The night that had changed everything. The night he had leaned over me and, with his bright blue eyes fixed on mine, said, Last chance to change your mind.

And it had been the last chance to change my mind, I realise now. Now, he is so deeply ensconced in my life that I can no longer begin to imagine a future without him. It's too late to change my mind now, no matter how tough things get.

The tears leak out of my eyes, and he stops when they drip onto the hand he has entangled in my hair. He pulls away a little bit, opening his mouth to say something, but I wrap my arms around his body, my legs around his hips, and pull him back.

"Keep going," I whisper, amid the still-falling tears. I need him. I need this. I need to feel close to him again. "Don't stop. Please."

He pulls away, trying to untangle my limbs from his so that he can look into my face. "Emilie..."

I clutch at him tighter. "Don't stop. I need you, Aksel." There is a sharp, desperate whine in my voice that I can't stand to hear.

Aksel ignores me, sitting up. I'm still refusing to let go, so I go with him. "Emilie," he says, his voice hard now. His hand is on my shoulder now, trying to pry me away from him.

He wants to talk. I don't want to talk.

How is it that I have managed to meet the one guy who will stop in the middle of sex for a conversation?

I let go of him, so suddenly that he doesn't expect it. And in the split moment when he is caught off guard, I place both my hands on his shoulders and shove, hard. He topples back onto the bed, his lips parting slightly from the impact. Pushing against his shoulders, I clumsily position myself astride him.

I see the exact moment the anger sparks in his eyes. "Okay." His voice is low, and his eyes are so bright, even in the dim light, that I can hardly stand to look into them. "Fine. Let's not talk. Let's fuck." He grabs me by the shoulders and flips us over, so that I am pinned between his weight and the bed. "That's all you want from asshole Finns like me, isn't it?"

It was what I had wanted, but the tears spring once again into my eyes.

Aksel continues staring at me, although the line of his mouth has softened a little. "Isn't it?" he repeats. He is waiting for an answer.

I squeeze my eyes shut, and pull him towards me. "Shut up," I whisper, thrusting my hips upwards against his. "Shut up, shut up, shut up."

Afterwards, we lie on separate sides of the bed, him staring up at the ceiling; me curled up on my side, hands over my eyes. The tears have stopped for a while now, but the heaviness in my chest still remains. It's been there for so long now, I may never be rid of it.

"I'm sorry," I mumble. My throat feels all choked up. I'm afraid that if I speak any louder, the sobs will follow.

He inhales deeply, then sighs. "Why?" There is a tendril of anger curling around this one-syllable word. "Why are you treating me like the enemy? It's like, sometimes, you hate that I'm Finnish."

"That's not fair." My voice comes out thin and flimsy. The barest sliver of a thread, ready to break from the slightest puff of air. "I told you, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I'm just..."

Aksel doesn't say anything to that. I can almost feel him stewing in the silence that follows.

I try again, because I want him to understand. "Sometimes," I say in a tiny voice, "I'm jealous of you."

He stirs at that. "What? Why?"

"Because you're Finnish. You belong here so well."

"Unlike you?"

I nod, even though he can't see it in the dark. Maybe he's not even looking at me.

He sighs. "How many times must I tell you this?"

I cut him off, not in the mood to listen to his preaching again. "It's easy to say that I belong anywhere I want. But saying it all the time doesn't solve the problem."

"Then how do we solve the problem?" He's raised his voice a little. He sounds frustrated. "I don't know what to do, Emilie. Tell me what I should do."

"I don't know either." If I did, things wouldn't be so hard.

"I can't help you like this."

I find myself close to tears again. "Then don't," I snap. I turn on my side so that I'm facing away from him. As far as I'm concerned, this conversation is pointless. So much for communication.

Mama, I want to tell her, you were wrong. The only one making compromises here is me.

I hear the sounds of a rustle, feel the springs of the mattress bouncing, before Aksel's warm arm coils around my waist. He pauses for a bit, and when I don't push him away, he pulls me back towards him and tucks me against his body, so that my back is flat against his chest and he has one leg and one arm thrown over me. He is still angry with me, I know, but he still tries to wrap himself around me like a cocoon – like I am something precious he has to protect.

But even lying in bed with him like this – him wrapped around me, his heartbeat thudding softly against my back as I relax into him – it still feels like something is very, very wrong. It still feels like we are slowly falling apart.