I cast him another sideways glance, running my gaze over his side profile. Aksel doesn't look back at me, just keeps his own gaze trained on the television screen, even though he must feel my eyes on him.

There is no better way to describe it. He is sulking.

It's not anything obvious, but when you have been privy to as many of his moods as I have, it becomes as clear as... well, not day, because the days in Helsinki can get unreasonably dark. But it's spring now, and the daylight hours are getting longer. So maybe that simile works again.

His legs are propped up on the coffee table, but he lowers them to reach for the mug of coffee near the edge. He downs the remainder of it in one gulp, then places it back on the coaster.

Ever since that Sunday – the one when we had argued during the grocery shopping and then he had slammed out of the apartment to hang out with his friends – he has been acting this way. Sulky. Silent.

In a way, it reminds me of the way he used to be in Edinburgh.

Maybe, if we had moved to Edinburgh together, instead of just me moving to Helsinki, he would be like this all the time.

A part of me is angry. What right does he have to act like this, like he's suffering as much as I am? He fits in so well here. He's the one who gets to slide back into old, familiar habits, while I'm the one having to do everything in a new way – the wrong way from what I'm used to.

And yet, I'm the one being made to feel as if I'm in the wrong. His friends probably think I'm a brat, that I'm holding him back from having fun, from going out with them the way he did before I came along. I remember those looks they'd exchanged that night at the bar, when I said I wanted to go home.

Judgemental, the lot of them.

I know Aksel wants me to become friends with his friends. He wants me to fit in with them. He thinks it's that easy. But none of them like me, or really know what to say to me. It just becomes weird, when I tag along. An outsider in their midst. They have to switch languages, just to accommodate me. It's no wonder Aliisa seems to have something against me.

Probably all of them dislike me. Aliisa is just the most outspoken out of the group.

As if sensing my increasingly negative thoughts, Aksel suddenly lets his feet fall off the table onto the ground with a loud thump. My head jerks up and I stare at him. He is still not looking at me, but he grabs the remote control and jabs at the power button.

The television goes abruptly blank. In the ensuing silence, I can hear the hum of the radiator.

"It was getting boring," Aksel says, as if feeling a need for justification.

"Okay," I say, after a pause. "I wasn't watching, anyway."

"Well," he says, sitting forward, resting his elbows on his knees and staring down at his loosely clasped hands, "It was in Finnish."

I blink. "Huh?" When he doesn't respond, I add, a little brusquely, "What do you mean?"

He rises from the couch. "I mean, I know you weren't watching it."

I frown. Is he trying to pick a fight?

He is bending down now, swiping the keys that he usually leaves atop the coffee table. Then he straightens, keys in hand.

I stay curled up in my corner of the couch, craning my head to watch as he walks across the room and starts shrugging on his jacket. "Where are you going?"

"Out," he says.

"Out, where? It's night-time."

He shrugs. "I don't know. Out for a walk. Somewhere. Anywhere."

I can read between the lines. Anywhere but here with me, he means.

At the door, he hesitates. Then he finally looks at me for what feels like the first time since I got home today. "Do you want to come?"

I press my lips together and look down. "I'm a little tired."

I hear the rustle of his clothes as he turns. The jingle of keys; the turn of the lock. And his low voice as he murmurs, "Mhm. I thought not."

The door shuts quietly behind him.

***

I skip class the next day.

I mean to go. I take the tram, all the way to my usual stop near the university. And then, just as I alight, I see Priscilla and that other girl – the new girl. What's her name again? Susi? Suzi? Something like that. They're chatting as they walk, laughing together.

I slow my steps, lowering my head so that they don't see me. I don't know which would be worse – for them to see me and say hi, or for them to see me and pretend not to.

I would've still gone. Except that when I start trailing behind them in the direction of the university building, I hear snippets of their conversation.

They are speaking in Finnish.

Choppy sentences, stopping every couple words to giggle and insert something in English – but they are speaking Finnish.

My eyes burn suddenly hot. Then, in a rash, split-second decision, I turn and walk in the opposite direction, pulling my jacket tighter around myself.

Fuck it. Why do I have to go every day, anyway? I think even I deserve a day off from the daily dose of humiliation and failure. And anyway – the class will be relieved I'm not there, holding them back. They can finally proceed at the pace suitable for all of them. A pace I cannot follow.

Maybe by the time I show up for class again, they'd all be speaking fluent Finnish.

Why is this language, which seems so impossible for me, so easy for them?

The sour ache at the bridge of my nose is back. I sniff hard, as if that is going to help ward off the onset of emotion. But – no. I cannot end up running through the streets in tears again. Once is enough.

I'm at the city centre before I know it. I'm not even sure if this can be considered the city centre – have no idea where this supposed 'centre' begins – but the buildings here bear a marked difference to the ones near our apartment, and that's enough for a marker for me. The buildings here are much more modern, for one. All glass and reflections.

Hamburg has those, too. But ours are different from the ones here. Ours feel more vibrant. Filled with life. The ones here are dull. They are ugly.

Several groups of youngsters are clustered near the broad pathway that leads down by the side of the music centre. A particularly rowdy group of teenage boys are flipping around on their skateboards, hollering at each other. One of them turns to stare at me as I walk past, and the rest follow suit.

I lower my head and pick up my pace.

The sheer number of people is the second indicator. It is also why I hate coming to the city centre. It's why I hate walking down this street. There are so many people here. And some of them mind their own business, but most of them stare.

They stare and they stare. Even more than the people in my neighbourhood. I don't know what for. This is a bustling area, isn't it? Aren't people supposed to be less concerned with passers-by in a crowded – crowded, by Finnish standards – area like this?

Keeping my eyes firmly on the ground, I take a turn as soon as I can, veering off the path to a less crowded area.

Finally. I feel like I can breathe again.

At the end of the long pathway is a villa – the one with a small café. I still haven't managed to remember its name; nor have I figured out the exact purpose of the building. All I know is that it is in the vicinity of Finlandia Hall, and that I've twice walked past the signboard outside that reads, kahvi, tee, and never gone in.

I look at the sign again as I walk past this time. Maybe I should stop here, sit down for a cup of tea. I have nowhere to go today, anyway.

I start to walk towards the café, before stopping dead in my tracks. Sitting at one of the outdoor tables, frowning down at a couple of papers and chewing at the end of a pencil, is a familiar figure.

Probably feeling my gaze on her, Lumi looks up at that exact moment, and sees me.

I feel my stomach drop. Too late to retreat now. Steeling myself, I raise a hand to give her a limp wave. "Hey."

"Oh." She looks startled for a moment, before she smiles at me. "Hey! What are you doing here?"

I shrug, half-heartedly. "I don't know. I was just taking a walk and decided to come in."

I wish I hadn't walked here now.

There is a pause, in which Lumi assesses me. Then she gestures to the seat across from her, "Why don't you sit down? We can have a coffee together."

I hover by the table, caught between common courtesy and the overwhelming desire to leave. Lumi is staring at me, waiting for my reply. Her smile is starting to wilt.

I smile back weakly, and shrug. "Okay. Why not?"

I pull out a chair and lower myself gingerly into it. Lumi puts down her pencil and regards me with solemn blue eyes. Her hands are folded into each other on the table. I return her gaze, and she presses her lips together into another small smile.

She doesn't know what to say to me.

It's okay, because I have nothing to say to her either.

She clears her throat, "So... How are you?"

I shrug. "Okay, I guess." I look down for a moment, then gesture to my bag with a grimace. "Decided to skip class today." I laugh a little. It comes out like the most nervous sound I have ever heard.

"Oh." Lumi looks a little startled, as if she doesn't know what to say in response to that. Then she smiles again, "Well... It's good to take a break sometimes."

I nod weakly, then gesture towards the plans and drawings she has scattered all over the table. "So, what are you doing here? Working?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," she says, starting to gather up some of her papers, clearing a space for me. "Yes, I'm working on some designs for a client. I was alone, so I spread it out a little."

"It's okay," I reassure her. "I haven't even ordered anything, anyway."

"Oh." She looks around, "Do you want to order something? You have to order at the counter inside."

"Yeah." I jump at the chance of a break from this awkward conversation. "I'll go order. Do you want anything else? I could get it for you, since I'm already going in."

"No, it's okay." She smiles. "Thanks for the offer."

I take my time ordering my cup of tea – Green tea? Fruit tea? Black tea? the barista asks – even though I usually hate ordering anything in Finland. It feels lame to have to switch to English, after the obligatory hei or moi. But standing by the counter pondering the different varieties of tea seems like a better prospect than having to sit through an awkward conversation punctuated with pauses and filler words.

The barista slides me my mug of tea. "Thank you," I tell her. She smiles at me, and I take my tea and go back out. Lumi has cleared away most of her drawings by the time I plonk my mug onto the table and sit back down.

"Is that tea?" she asks me.

"Yeah," I say, "Black tea."

"You take it completely black?"

"Not usually. I couldn't find the sugar." There had been two jugs on the counter that I had seen – one labelled maito, which I know means milk, and the other labelled kerma. I have no idea what that means. But it's a liquid – probably not sugar. Besides, I have the vague impression that the Finnish word for sugar looks quite similar to its Germanic counterparts.

Zucker in German, socker in Swedish – I have seen it on packages and remembered the Swedish word for it. Maybe in Finnish it's something like sukeri; zockeri...

"Oh." Lumi looks around, as if that action alone would mysteriously summon some sugar to our table.

I wave my hand. "It's okay. I can take it black."

"I could never take my coffee without milk," Lumi admits with a laugh.

Aksel does, I find myself thinking.

"I don't know how Aksel does it," Lumi continues.

I blink. Then I glance down at my mug, picking it up and taking a sip to distract myself.

Of course she knows how Aksel takes his coffee. They've been friends for years. From even before I met him.

Maybe she even knows more about him, about his past, than I do.

The tea is all of a sudden bitter on my tongue.

"Yeah," I murmur into my mug. "Me neither."

We sit in silence for a moment. Lumi takes a drink from her own mug, before trying again.

"It's finally spring," she says, turning to look around at one of the patches of grass near us. The tiny flowers already starting to peek out in clusters. "The weather is getting warm and nice."

Warm? It's five degrees Celsius out. She's just like Aksel – he thinks anything above zero degrees is warm.

I wonder if this is a Finnish thing or if it's just them.

"Yeah," I say. "I like spring, when it starts getting green again. It's still a little cold for me, though."

"You prefer warm weather, then?"

I shrug, "I've never thought of it that way, but maybe my idea of 'warm' is different from yours."

"Is it a lot warmer in Hamburg?"

"It's definitely warmer in Germany than it is here." I laugh a little.

Lumi grimaces sympathetically. "It must be difficult for you to adjust, then. I used to live up north, and when I go back now, it takes me a few days to get used to the difference in temperature."

"Up north? Are you from Oulu, too?" I realise then that I have no idea where any of Aksel's friends are from. I don't know anything about them, really. Every time we talk, they're usually the ones asking me questions.

She shakes her head. "No, I'm from–" she says a Finnish name here, one that I cannot decipher. A village? A town? A city? I have no idea. I only know the very basics of Finnish geography. Seeing my blank look, Lumi clarifies, "It's a small city up north, not too far from Oulu. That's where I went to university – in Oulu."

"Oh. And then you moved to Helsinki?"

She smiles. "Yes. I wanted to be a designer. There are more job opportunities here."

"Helsinki is like the place where dreams come true in Finland, then."

My statement startles Lumi. She laughs after a moment. "I wouldn't call it that."

I look away. That's what it feels like for Aksel, I want to say. He thinks it's his dream city.

As if on cue, Lumi says, "I think Aksel loves Helsinki the most, out of all of us. He was always talking about moving here after he graduated. I think it's one of the first things I ever learnt about him when we met."

There is a lump in my throat. "Oh."

"Well," Lumi says, "That was a few years ago. When he came back from Edinburgh, he suddenly wanted to move to Germany instead." Her blue eyes dance as she smiles at me, as if we were sharing an inside joke. "It took a while before we discovered why."

I lift the mug back up so the bottom half of my face is covered. "Oh," I say, again.

"You're very important to Aksel," Lumi tells me. She sees my astonished blink, and softens the sudden statement with another quirk of her lips. "I've never seen him act like this with any other girl."

"Oh?" It seems to be the only word I am capable of saying now.

"Yeah. He's different with you. I've never seen him so..." Her hand comes up to hide half of her face as she chuckles. "So smitten. That's the only word to describe it. He's not normally the nurturing type, but he takes care of you. It's... It's really sweet."

She's not looking at me by now, and, watching her smile pensively down at the table, I am suddenly sure of one thing.

She used to be in love with him. Or maybe she still is – I don't know. I don't think I want to know.

I try to imagine her by Aksel's side – and immediately regret it. They'd look perfect together. A tall, gorgeous, blue-eyed couple – they'd make beautiful blue-eyed babies. And they, too, at least, come from the same heritage. No language barriers, no cultural differences. She would understand perfectly when he says something in Finnish or makes a Finnish joke or references the culture or a television programme or...

Everything, I think. They have everything in common.

What do I have in common with Aksel? I'm a hybrid of two extremely different and opposite cultures, but I don't fully relate to either group. What are the chances that I'd be able to relate to someone from an entirely different heritage, one that I don't even have any direct ties to?

Aksel is so Finnish. He doesn't have anything in common with me. But with someone like Lumi... He belongs perfectly with someone like her, doesn't he?

Someone who can understand him, who is as much a part of his culture as he is. Someone who isn't me.