Somewhere Else

Chapter 7: Breakdown (ii)

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."