Somewhere Else

Chapter 9: Not Enough (ii)

Two days before he leaves on his trip with the others, Aksel speaks to me for the first time in over a week.

"Have you booked your flight home?"

On my way into the kitchen, I turn around to look at him, and see that he's standing by the dining table, his hand placed flat on the wooden surface. I cough a little to clear my throat before replying. "No."

"Why not?" There is a barely-there tendril of hope in his eyes as he looks at me, as if he's secretly willing me to say what he wants to hear.

I don't know what he wants to hear.

I shrug, feeling uncomfortable under his scrutiny. "Gabi and Tessa are visiting next week," I say. "I have to show them around."

He stills. "I didn't know that."

I shrug again. "Yeah, well. It's a last-minute decision." He hasn't been talking to me since they finalised their travel plans.

"When were you going to tell me?"

"I..." I bite my lip as a pang of guilt assails me. Because I hadn't been planning on telling him. What would it matter to him, anyway? He'll be away with his friends.

"At least you're not going back to Hamburg," he mutters.

"Gabi and Tessa have been asking if I want to go with them when they fly back. They're here for a week, so they leave on Saturday."

I can tell by the way he goes silent that he's disappointed with my answer.

I forge on, wanting to break the stillness that has come over him somehow. "But I probably won't. The airfare is expensive at this time. Anyway, I have plans – I want to..." I trail off, because he's not listening anymore.

His countenance has darkened. He turns away, his arms coming up to cross over his chest in a defensive move. "It's okay. I'll pay for the flight."

"Why, do you want me to go that badly? What if I don't come back?" I'm trying to joke, but it comes out sounding overly serious. Neither of us are laughing or even smiling at all.

"Is that something you want?" Aksel asks, very seriously. "To not come back?"

"Aksel," I say, wanting to go over to him, to wrap my arms around him like I would've in the past, to bury my face in his chest and pour out everything I've been feeling to him. But his face is so stoic, his voice so still. I don't know if he will pull me closer or push me away.

And so I stay put, clenching my fist and digging my nails into my palm to physically restrain myself from stumbling into his arms. "I was joking."

"Were you?" The flat look in his eyes twists my heart.

"Aksel," I say, taking a small step forward but not quite going to him, "It was a joke. I'm starting to get used to living here, you know. I'm going to explore Helsinki on my own while you're gone. I want to rediscover it again, the way we did when I just got here."

A corner of his mouth lifts sardonically, as if this is amusing to him. He angles his body away from me, but doesn't quite leave. He pauses, and I'm waiting for him to say something. When he does, it comes in the form of, "Maybe you shouldn't."

I stare at him. "What?"

It's his turn to shrug. "Maybe you shouldn't bother. Maybe you should go back to Hamburg."

It takes me a long moment to wrap my mind around what he's insinuating. "You mean..." My tongue feels thick in my mouth now as I push out the words, "You don't want me to stay here?"