Chapter Text
“Look, Ber! There it is!”
Tino can’t keep the smile off his face as the quintet of cabins comes into view over the hill. He’s seen them every summer for years, taken that same dusty road, but something about the way their cabin waits just against the edge of the shore as if waiting to dip its toes has never lost its whimsy. Mellow, lazy waves roll through the lake, beckoning the pair as they do every year. Welcome home.
Tino sits forward in his seat. As they descend down the other side of the hill and roll toward their usual parking spot in the grass beside the cabin, he turns to look at Berwald, his cousin and best friend, in the driver’s seat beside him.
“We made it!” Tino beams at him.
The corners of Berwald’s eyes crinkle in his shy, hushed version of a smile. He’s never been one to wear his heart out in the open, but after fifteen years, Tino can read him like a cereal box.
“Excited?” Berwald inquires, guiding the car onto the little plot of grass.
“Super excited! I can’t wait to get everything unpacked.” Tino is practically bouncing in his seat. “Two whole months, all to ourselves! You remembered to bring your hiking shoes, right?”
“Course I did.”
As soon as Berwald kills the ignition, Tino springs from the car and takes a deep breath of the warm, mountain-sweet air. He closes his eyes, letting it wash into his lungs like a sweep of feathered wings. He allows the stirring water to murmur in his ears.
He’s in heaven.
Behind him, he hears Berwald’s door close. “We should get everything inside. Might rain soon.”
Snapping himself out of it, he hurries over to help his cousin with the suitcases. “You’re right, sorry! Do you have the key? I can go and get the door unlocked.”
Berwald fishes in his pocket, and hands Tino the key.
“Thanks!” Tino grins. He scampers over to the door, feet kicking up the small round stones along the path and sending them clattering along the lakeshore. Thumping up the front steps, he slides the key into the old scuffed metal lock and turns the handle. It sticks the first two times, as it always does, before giving way and allowing the door to creak open.
The scruffy welcome mat is waiting on the other side, and Tino feels a warmth in his chest as his tennis shoes scrape against it. He takes another cleansing breath, pulling in the scent of old wood and humidity and dusty curtains and sunlight through dirty windows. The cracked floorboards whimper under his weight, and his footsteps echo against the empty walls like extra heartbeats.
He absolutely adores the place.
In the beginning, it was strange to have to stay in the big empty cabin over the summer, despite their parents being there with them. The location being rather remote, and the cabins not being in amazing shape, the little campsite always only ever housed his family- Tino’s parents, his uncle, and Berwald- during those summer months. But over the years, it’s become Tino’s second home, to such a degree that even when the rest of the family stopped coming, he and Berwald couldn’t stay away. Something about the crackly walls, the sound of squirrels chasing each other on the roof, the wind that knocks the pine limbs against their windows, beckons them to make the drive at the end of May.
“Tino?”
Startling, Tino turns to find Berwald standing in the doorway behind him, arms laden with suitcases.
“Oh, sorry, Ber! I got lost in thought! Need any help?”
Berwald blows a lock of hair out of his face, grunting as he hefts the suitcases a little higher. His eyes spark with a smirk. “Need ya to move out of the way.”
“Sorry, sorry!” Tino hurries to the side, allowing Berwald passage through the doorway. He shuffles toward the bedrooms.
“I’m just going to go and get some of the other bags, okay?” Tino calls, starting back out onto the porch.
“Mhm.”
As he heads toward the car, smiling to himself, Tino’s attention is lifted to the crackling sound of another set of tires on the dirt road. He hesitates by the trunk of Berwald’s creaky Chevy, watching with curiosity as a shiny silver pickup truck pulls onto the stretch of grass and along the row of cabins.
How strange. Of course, these were cabins available for rent, but in all the years his family had been visiting them, Tino had never really seen anyone else around. The area had always been relatively quiet.
He watches as the truck pulls in two cabins down from theirs, disappearing on the other side. He hears doors slamming and the distant hum of chatter, though he can’t make out the words. It sounds like a family, though, and this piques his interest. Maybe he’ll have to go over and say hello.
“Tino? You okay?”
Tino jumps again, and laughs sheepishly. For as big as he is, Berwald can move around like a cat when he wants to.
“Yeah, I’m fine! But it looks like we might not be the only ones this year. Someone else just pulled in down the row.”
He pauses, giving Berwald a moment to hear the shuffling of suitcases and bantering voices. Berwald’s eyebrows lift.
“D’you suppose we’ll run into them?”
“I hope so! I might go over to greet them.”
Berwald offers him a knowing nod. “You will.”
Tino laughs. “You’re right. I’ll give them time to unpack, though.”
“Probably a good idea.”
“Speaking of which, let’s get the rest of our bags inside.” Tino turns back to Berwald’s car, popping the trunk back open. “Can you get the door for me?”
Berwald doesn’t turn the cabin lights on until after sunset. It’s a habit of his that Tino admittedly finds adorable, though he’d never admit as much to his friend. The natural light has always been something the taller man adores about getting away from the suburbs.
The moon has long since appeared by the time they’ve finished unpacking their suitcases. Dinner is leftover snacks from the drive, as the market will be closed by now, though they have plans to visit it when it opens in the morning.
As Berwald takes his turn with the shower, Tino finds himself by one of the windows facing the water. He smiles to himself, watching the moonlight stroke the stirring lake and kiss the docks along the shore. The rain never arrived, but the clouds still linger, and though he’s disappointed that they conceal the stars, he can’t help the content sigh that drifts from his lips. He couldn’t be happier to be here.
Just as he’s about to turn away from the window, he catches sight of something on one of the docks down the way. He blinks, squinting into the night. The cabin porch light and the moon are the only things aiding in cutting through the dark, but he’s certain there’s a person sitting out there, right at the edge of the lake, so still that he might never have noticed them had his eyes not dropped low enough. He can’t make out their features at such a distance, but their back is straight and they appear to be staring out over the water.
Tino’s lips part in curiosity. This must be one of their new neighbors, as these cabins are too far away from any towns to justify wandering around up there at night. Even in the middle of the summer, the air by the lake is cold after dark. Tino can’t help but wonder why they wouldn’t just enjoy the view from their window.
He’s pulled from his thoughts at the sound of the bathroom door from behind him, and turns to see Berwald emerging, wrapped in a towel and putting his glasses back on. “Shower’s all yours.”
“Thanks, Ber.” Tino hesitates, and spares one last glance at the figure on the dock, before heading away from the window.
The bathroom air is still hot and hazy from the shower when Tino enters, the mirrors still foggy and damp. It’s a far cry from what the breeze outside must feel like.
Easing the door closed behind him, Tino resolves that in the morning, he’ll definitely have to go over and say hello to their new neighbors. They’ve intrigued him, certainly, and if they’re going to be staying, they’ll be running into each other at some point anyway. Why not expedite the process?
As he climbs into the shower and coaxes the squeaky knob to turn on the water, Tino smiles to himself, the thought of making some new friends bringing a fresh wave of lightness to his chest. Hopefully they’ll love this place as much as he does.
Berwald wakes with the sunrise. Tino can hear him shuffling about the cabin at far too early an hour for any human being to be functional, presumably getting the rest of the cabin in order. Sitting up, Tino reaches for his phone on the nightstand and squints at the time.
6:17.
Groaning, Tino rubs his eyes against the lilac-pink lumosity of sunrise. The curtains have been opened, allowing him a view of the lake and shore, and he takes a moment to watch the water shift, sluggishly and sleepily as he does.
As his eyes adjust, Tino catches sight of the figure on the dock again, as still as the previous evening. With the light of the sun, Tino can now make out their stiff, narrow shoulders and short pale curls, and it’s obvious now that they’re watching the water. Groggily, Tino half-wonders if this stranger had dozed off out there last night.
He must have dozed off too, because the next thing he knows, he’s waking to the clatter of dishes and the smell of fresh coffee and cinnamon from the kitchen. The sunlight, now golden with late morning, shines bright and hot through the open curtains, and Tino rubs his eyes again as he sits up and slips out of bed.
He pulls on some clothes, before padding out of the room and toward the glorious smell. Upon reaching the kitchen, he finds Berwald at the sink, washing his hands. A collection of brown paper bags rests on the counter beside him. The little round dining table has been set, with plates, napkins, and a steaming pot of coffee. A tray of cinnamon rolls is cooling on the stovetop.
Berwald notices him enter. “Mornin’, Tino. I made cinnamon rolls.”
“Morning. They smell amazing! Did you already go to the market?”
“You seemed tired from the drive. Figured I’d let ya sleep in.”
“You’re feeding my bad habits,” Tino smirks, picking up his plate and making his way over to the stove. The tray is nearly full, holding far more than what Berwald would usually make for just the two of them. “How come you made so many? Trying to feed my addiction to sweets, too?”
Berwald laughs softly. “Thought you might want to take some over to the new people.”
“That’s a great idea! Tino beams, serving himself three of the warm treats. “Thanks, Ber!”
Berwald shrugs in reply, offering a small smile from over his shoulder.
Tino makes quick work of his breakfast. His cousin truly has a way with baking; the cinnamon rolls are fluffy and soft and perfectly warm, the sweet pastry practically melting on his tongue. After a cup of coffee, he’s feeling much more alert, too.
“How many are you having?” Tino pushes his way up from the table and heads back over to the counter. The beautiful aroma still prances along the countertop, but Tino forces himself to resist getting any more for himself, at least for the time being. There will likely be leftovers, anyway. He’s certainly not going to share all of Berwald’s baking with the neighbors.
“Already had mine. Take as many as you want.”
“Okay!” Carefully, Tino stacks six of the treats onto a separate, smaller tray. That should be enough for the amount of voices he thought he’d heard. “Well, I’ll be off, then! Thanks again.”
“My pleasure.”
Slipping on his sandals, Tino nudges the front door open, and begins on his way along the shore toward the neighboring cabins. His and Berwald’s cabin sits leftmost in the row, tucked gently into the tall wild grass that clings just out of reach of the water. It’s a bit of a walk to reach the newly-occupied cabin down the row, right in the middle of the five, but Tino doesn’t mind. The bottom of the tray is wonderfully warm against his hand, and it’s been far too long since he’s been able to just stroll under the sun like this, with the murmur of waves instead of a busy street to join him.
As he nears the cabin in question, he catches himself glancing down at the dock in curiosity, but finds the mysterious stranger has gone, leaving it vacant once again. Tino hopes that doesn’t mean the cabin’s occupants are away. How embarrassing would it be to have to bring the cinnamon rolls all the way back?
Rounding the corner onto the front steps reveals the silver pickup truck is still parked beside the cabin. Tino spies a pineapple with sunglasses hanging from the front mirror, and a stuffed cat sitting on the dash, and smiles a little to himself as he makes his way onto the porch.
From inside, he can hear voices, and relief washes over him. They’re in. Stepping up to the door, he raises his fist and knocks.
“What the hell-?” Tino thinks he hears from inside. “Mikkel, someone’s knocking.”
“I got it!” The second voice sounds significantly more enthusiastic than the first, and is followed by the thunking of heavy footsteps and the rattling of the doorknob.
When the door swings open, Tino is greeted by the sight of a young man, maybe as tall as Berwald, maybe even taller, with wild strawberry blond hair and a blinding grin. He’s tan, with a triangular jaw and dark freckles, and he’s shirtless.
“Can I help ya?”
Tino does his best to match the man’s smile, though it makes his cheeks hurt. “Hello! I’m Tino, my cousin and I are staying in the cabin down on the end.” He points with his free hand. “We stay every summer, and usually we’re the only ones, so I saw you arrive yesterday and I wanted to come say hello. I also brought you some cinnamon rolls my cousin made.” He nods toward the tray in his hand, holding it out. “Hope I brought enough!”
“Oh! Thanks a bunch, Tino! That’s plenty, there’s only three of us.” The young man takes the tray, balancing it on one hand like a waiter. “It’s our first time up here, and it’s just me and my brothers. We’re visiting from the city. I’m Mikkel, by the way.”
Abruptly, Mikkel turns to look over his shoulder. “Em!” he calls back into the cabin. “Come say hi!”
Behind Mikkel, Tino hears a groan, and then the whine of the floorboards as a pair of feet presumably lands on them. Moments later, a boy appears beside Mikkel. He looks to be about sixteen or seventeen, Tino can’t be sure, and his hair is nearly pale enough to be white. Tino briefly wonders if this is who he’s been seeing on the dock, but he dismisses the thought. The person on the dock had curlier hair, and this boy’s shoulders sit forward in that typical teenaged how-dare-you-ask-me-to-leave-my-bedroom slump.
Mikkel wraps his free arm around the boy (while somehow still maintaining a perfect balance with the tray) and grins. “This is my moody baby bro, Emil. Em, this is our neighbor- uh, what’d you say your name was, again?”
“Tino.” He smiles again. “Nice to meet you both.”
“You too,” Emil replies, mildly robotically, before narrowing his eyes at Mikkel. “Don’t call me a baby.”
Mikkel ruffles his hair affectionately, causing Emil to groan. “But you are the baby,” he teases.
“How come you never subject Sig to this, huh?”
“Because you’re easier to mess with.” Despite his words, Mikkel frees him with a wink. “Go on, get back to your all-important lounging.”
As Emil makes his escape, Mikkel returns his gaze to Tino. “Sigurd’s our other bro, but he’s out hiking right now. I’ll make sure to let him know you brought the cinnamon rolls, though.”
Tino nods. “Okay! Let me know if you guys wanna know anything about the trails around here, by the way! Like I said, we’ve been coming here for years, so I’m always happy to show you around.”
Mikkel’s eyes light up. “Thanks a lot! I mean, I’m always up for wandering aimlessly, but they’re not fans of it.” He jabs his thumb over his shoulder.
“It’s because you don’t have the slightest sense of direction!” Emil calls.
“I’m just a free spirit!”
“Free to get lost.”
“There’s no need for all that sass, kid,” Mikkel informs him, though his grin makes it clear he’s not truly offended. “Anyway, that’d be great, Tino. We’ll definitely take you up on that.”
“Great! Well, I’ll let you get back to your morning, but don’t be strangers. Our door’s open to you anytime!”
“Thanks again! See you around, then.”
“See you!”
Mikkel steps back and closes the door, and Tino starts back along the shore, feeling even lighter than he had the previous afternoon. He allows the breeze drifting off the water to lighten his step, until he’s practically skipping. Their neighbors seem friendly, if a little dysfunctional, and he can’t wait to get to know them and show them around his favorite place.
As he passes the edge of the cabin, movement catches his eye, so subtle it could have just been a wildflower bobbing in his wake, but enough to make him turn. When his eyes land, he sucks in a surprised breath so fast it stings.
There, wandering out of the woods and down the dusty road, is the man Tino has been seeing on the dock; he’s certain of it. The narrow shoulders, pulled back gently like a performer’s, the soft, wavy curls prodded by the wind. Tino halts, frozen by his realization, and surmises this must be Sigurd, the third brother he’d yet to meet.
Sigurd must have caught Tino’s movement as well, because he also halts, stiffens, and turns his head over his shoulder to look at him. There’s still a distance between them, but Tino can make out delicate, elfish features offset by sharp eyes that seem to ask a million questions and yet reveal nothing in return.
Tino’s mouth opens, and closes again. That gaze stuns him into silence, so much so that he isn’t quite sure how to form a sentence. After a long moment, all he can manage is a nod in greeting.
Another moment drags by, and Tino assumes nothing will come of this bizarre interaction, when Sigurd offers him an awkward nod in return before heading the rest of the way down the hill and disappearing on the other side of his cabin.
Tino remains standing where he is for a good ten seconds, the breeze tickling his ears, before he remembers how to walk. Slowly, he turns, and makes his way back down along the shore.