Somewhere Else

Chapter 5: Versus (iii)

People are staring again.

I look down at my boots as we walk on, refraining from pulling my hand out of Aksel's in a knee-jerk reaction.

I can feel the weight of the stares falling on me, hitting me all over like tiny pebbles – one or two don't hurt, but when there are so many, all at once...

I'm so busy inside my head that Aksel has to squeeze my hand a couple times before I look up at him. Only then do I realise that we've stopped in front of a drugstore.

"I have to get some..." He looks at me, then presses his lips together in a sheepish grimace. "I'm getting some cigarettes," he says.

"I thought you quit long ago." I don't know how to react to this. Didn't he say that he only smoked when he was stressed? Is he still stressed because of me? He doesn't smoke that often, I know – I would smell it on him otherwise.

"I–" Aksel cuts himself off and exhales noisily. "I think it's going to take some time for me to quit again."

"I don't like you smoking," I say quietly, looking down at the ground.

"I know. Sorry."

I wrap my arms around myself, not looking at him.

"You'd rather wait outside, then?"

I nod. Then I look at him beseechingly. "Can't you do without? You don't smoke that often... right?"

"No, I don't." But he looks torn. He keeps glancing back at the doors to the store. "But... sometimes..."

I shrug and turn away. I suppose everyone has their vices. I just hope Aksel gets his under control soon.

I wonder what mine is. Overthinking things, perhaps.

"I won't take long," he says, then hesitates. "Will you be okay here?"

Alone, is what he means.

"It's fine," I say, trying to smile at him. "I'll wait for you outside."

I keep my expression light until he vanishes into the store. Then I glare at the closing doors as if they have personally offended me.

I know he doesn't mean anything when he asks questions like this. But these questions are so annoying. Why wouldn't I be fine alone? I have been surviving just fine since I moved out of my parents' house at eighteen. I am not completely useless on my own.

But it's not Aksel's fault. It's mine. I just wish he wouldn't act like this around me. Ever since we came back from Hamburg, he has been acting strangely.

I catch him staring at me sometimes – a pensive, unblinking stare not unlike the way he used to stare at me back in Edinburgh. And when I smile brightly at him, he doesn't always smile back immediately. Sometimes he looks almost irritated.

"Hey. Excuse me?"

I look up and see a guy about my age, smiling uncertainly at me. "Do you speak English?" he asks.

I try to hide the irritation that flares up at this innocent question. "Yes," I say. "Why wouldn't I?"

The stranger looks taken aback. Realising I sound almost hostile, I plaster a smile across my face and revise my statement. "I mean, yeah, I speak English."

"Great!" he says. "I've heard there's a good Japanese restaurant around here that serves authentic sushi. Do you by any chance know where I can find it?"

Must be a tourist, with that accent. He doesn't sound Finnish at all. Or even European, for that matter.

I shrug. "I'm sorry, I have no idea. I'm not from here," I add apologetically, to justify my absolute ignorance despite the fact that I've been living in Helsinki for a while.