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Klas took a slow step back, letting the last chords of the musical number hang in the air. Around him, the square had erupted into a buzz of warmth and excitement. Laughter rang out, a genuine joy that hadn't been heard in Gambämark for years. People hugged each other, patted each other on the backs, and even danced a little longer in pairs or small clusters. The crowd only grew as more townspeople left their homes to see the commotion and discover for themselves the wide open gates.
In the middle of the celebrations, Klas saw Josua. The young boy stood stiffly, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to another. Across from him, Kurt, the former leader of Gambämark, now just a man, held himself awkwardly. Klas had never seen Kurt look so unsure, his hands twitched at his sides like he wasn’t quite sure where to place them.
Kurt cleared his throat, reached out, and gently placed his hand on his son's shoulder and began to speak to him. Klas didn't quite make out what they were saying, but judging by Josua's sweet, hopeful smile that had taken up his entire face, perhaps his father had begun to change for the better.
The tender father-son moment was short-lived as Mäskis-Gunnar almost knocked Kurt off his feet as he sped by them on his moped. He led a motley crew of the town's children, who had retrieved the moped from the Gambämark dump and were chasing him on it around the town square. Kurt quickly regained his balance and joined in with the group of children and shaked his fist menacingly at the old man.
Klas turned away, weaved slowly through the clusters of townspeople. He offered small nods, a smile here, a soft word there. A few of the older women squeezed Klas' arm, cooed over him and asked the whereabouts of his pass partner. And Klas himself wanted to answer that question.
The path through the woods was well-worn, Klas’ muscle memory guided him more than thought at the moment. His mind was far too wrapped up in Kenneth. His thoughts of him are loud and almost ringing in his ears.
Though Klas' feet moved with the certainty of his routine, his heart raced as he was on the edge of something so uncertain. Now that Gambämark was open to the world again, he pondered his and Kenneth's place in the world, both as individuals and as a pair. And this was likely going to be the topic of a long, difficult conversation with Kenneth ahead of him.
As the sky softened into the early evening twilight, Klas spotted the hints of orange and violet that peaked through the dense tree branches. A cool breeze drifted by him and rustled the leaves overhead. He shivered slightly, gritted his teeth and zipped up his jacket.
He found Kenneth in a clearing, crouched by a freshly stoked fire. He could tell something was on Kenneth's mind, as his entire body was locked in tension. Kenneth didn’t look up right away, instead staying wrapped in the fire's intimate glow as its flames crackled quietly.
Klas stopped walking and let his gaze linger. Just for a second. The firelight caught on the sharp ridge of Kenneth's cheekbones, softened the hard line of his jaw, and traced the curve of his mouth in its flickering warmth.
He’d seen Kenneth like this before, thousands of times in fact. But tonight, something about it felt different. He couldn’t name it. Maybe it was due to recent events. But he never thought anyone or anything could be so beautiful. He tried to put aside the thought of the fluttering sensation low in his belly, and he carefully approached Kenneth.
Klas called softly, "Hey."
"Hey." Kenneth turned his head and smiled slightly, his body relaxed and his concentrated gaze on the fire dissipated into something much gentler with Klas' appearance. "Did I miss anything in the town square?"
"Just a spontaneous musical number and dance battle, nothing too out of the ordinary," Klas said dryly, stepped into the light and closer to him.
Kenneth chuckled, followed by a soft and breathy sigh. His gaze flickered up to Klas, and their eyes met. The two of them shared a lingering smile and gaze, fondly drinking in how each of them looked in the firelight.
“And…” Klas hesitated, then added, “The gates are open now. We’re free to come and go.”
Kenneth's posture stiffened, his brows lifted in mild shock, and his gaze faltered back to the open fire, “Oh.”
Klas watched Kenneth carefully, his eyes studied the way his expression shifted. There was something unreadable in Kenneth’s silence, and Klas’ brow creased, not out of frustration, but a gentle concern.
He approached Kenneth carefully, the only sound was his boots crunching softly over the forest's gravel and pine needles. Klas lowered himself beside him, not with a thud, but with deliberate care like he knew this moment deserved to be careful. Their knees brushed each other, but neither moved away.
After a moment of watching the flames with Kenneth, Klas tilted his head. “Why are you out here anyway?"
Kenneth hesitated and let out a slow breath, "I just needed a minute to myself."
“I get that.” Klas nudged him with his shoulder in silent understanding. Kenneth’s whole body completely relaxed with the small gesture, it gave him some comfort whilst his mind was racked with thoughts. His whole body began to subtly lean toward Klas, almost giving into his presence beside him.
Kenneth's mouth drew a thin smile, he turned to look at Klas, “Feels strange, doesn’t it? Like, we should be doing something. Hunting. Patrolling. Shining Gunilla’s hooves…”
“Yeah, maybe not that last one anymore.” Klas let out a quiet laugh. “But nothing’s stopping us from still hunting now and again.”
“I’d like that,” Kenneth said, then paused. His eyes flicked to Klas, softer now. “Or maybe I liked having the company.”
Klas exhaled slowly. “I’ve been thinking,” he began, his voice lower now, more careful. “Now that the gates are open… I think I’d like to leave.”
Kenneth’s head turned quickly, surprise washed over his face. “Leave Gambämark?”
“Not forever,” Klas reassured him. “But long enough to breathe different air. Maybe see the sea. Try something other than moose meat and blueberries for once.” He smiled wryly. “See new faces instead of the same two dozen for the past fifteen years.”
Kenneth didn’t respond right away. He watched Klas carefully, still taking in his words. “You think you could do it?” he asked, quietly. “Out there, after everything? After so long here?”
Klas nodded, firm but gentle. “I think I could,” he said, eyes not leaving Kenneth’s. “But not alone.”
"Right..." Kenneth’s brow furrowed slightly, his head nodded slightly in understanding. Klas felt unsure what that right meant, the word slipped out like a sigh, like a thought half-formed. He didn't want to interpret it as Kenneth dismissing him and them as more than pass partners entirely.
A silence between them lingered, not awkward, but charged. Klas' fingers tapped on his knee, a nervous tic he didn’t seem aware of. His jaw tightened, then relaxed.
“Is Kurt still on your mind?” Klas’ brow raised, he sighed, “I don’t think he particularly gives a damn if we are on a pass or not any longer. I honestly think right now all the rules have been thrown out the window.”
“No, it's not that,” Kenneth took off his cap, nervously raked his hand through his hair then toyed with it in his hands, he gulped, “Do you remember when we met?”
Klas carefully nodded, casted his mind back nearly sixteen years ago. He vaguely remembered seeing Kenneth for the first time. Shortly before Gambämark was established and closed off to the world, he met Kenneth at one of Kurt's public forums. It was normally for Kurt to preach his ideals and desires for his perfect society and usually garnered a handful of new recruits with every session.
During this particular meeting Kenneth had slipped in the back of the hall and unbeknownst to him sat next to Klas. Klas remembered him being much more baby-faced, slightly jittery, and his body hidden under layers of bulky clothing. Throughout the entire two hours Kenneth listened to Kurt so intently as he was spoon fed his vision for Gambämark.
“I was looking for a purpose.” Kenneth sighed, his gaze flicked nervously between Klas and the comfort of his fire, “I didn't have one. I lived in my father's basement, I could barely keep a job. It just seemed too good to be true. To have somewhere where I could… fit.”
“There was that and…” He hesitated, looked to his feet, the fire, his hands. Anywhere so Klas does not see his reaction. Klas, whose face was still deeply knitted with concern, tenderly placed his hand to Kenneth's upper arm, his thumb grazed his arm comfortingly.
Kenneth's expression faltered at the action, the tenderness took him off guard, “My family would never need to know… nobody would need to know. How I'm y’know…” he looked at Klas, his eyes welled up.
A silence hung in the air as Klas quietly understood he meant the implication of their relationship or for that matter any romantic relationship that Kenneth wanted to have. Kenneth's eyes remained half-lidded beneath his gaze vulnerable but unafraid, trusting in a way that made Klas’ chest ache.
“I could just hide it away, I wouldn't need to deal with it. But now with the gates open and we can leave and the world can come in. I don't want to hide this and us Klas, but I'm scared. And I'm not sure what I'd do if my family saw me again, I don't even know if they're still alive…” Kenneth babbled, all his thoughts and feelings spilled out his mouth and overwhelmed him after keeping it all in for so long.
But Klas stayed hung on to his every word and tried to decipher his incoherent thoughts and words. Klas' hand grazed up Kenneth's arm soothingly and took his shaking hand in his steady one. And gave it a reassuring squeeze.
Kenneth let out a shaky breath, wiped his eyes with the sleeve on his other arm, he sighed, “I'm sorry, you had to see me like that, Klas.”
“No.” Klas murmured and stroked his thumb over Kenneth's hand, “It’s better out than in. It was doing you no good keeping it all in.”
Kenneth sniffled, a small sweet smile pressed to his lips and his eyes crinkled at the corners. He carefully dropped Klas' hand. Unlike any other time they accidentally held hands or even brushed, they would snap them away as if they both burned under each other’s touch. But now he felt reluctant to let go.
Klas shifted closer to him, close enough that the fire’s warmth mingled with their shared body heat. His voice dropped low to something more vulnerable. “Kenneth, whatever we face beyond those gates, I'd like to face it with you.”
Kenneth didn’t react to him at first, he simply stared at Klas. His words slowly hit somewhere deep inside him, somewhere that's vulnerable. His face visibly softened and eyes glistened, no longer with tears, but with light.
Klas continued, caught up in his own words to notice Kenneth's reaction, “And if the world doesn't like it then we can just make our own. A nice cabin in the woods and maybe a farm, we can raise moose and other cattle. And we can have an open campfire every night. And we can…”
Before Klas could continue Kenneth reached up, cupped Klas’ face in his hands and brought their lips together. Their kiss was clumsy, their noses bumping together, and lips misaligned with each other at first. But it felt genuine.
And it didn’t take long for the hesitation to melt as their hands found places to rest and to hold. Kenneth’s fingers curled behind Klas’ neck. Whilst Klas slid his hand around Kenneth’s waist, drew him in closer, and soon their kiss deepened and found rhythm.
Their mouths moved with more confidence now. Klas swiped his tongue on Kenneth’s lower lip, it parted instinctively. The kiss deepened for a heartbeat longer, tender warmth flooded over each other, before they broke apart with a sharp inhale.
Kenneth looked dazed, the flush on his cheeks crept all the way up to his ears, lips kiss-bitten and slick, shone faintly in the low light. He looked beautiful like that, Klas decided quietly, so flustered and undone, with his usual quiet guardedness cracked wide open.
Klas leant forward, he was still breathing unevenly and pressed his forehead to Kenneth's. A smitten expression was plastered across his face. His hand came up to cradle Kenneth’s face, his thumb brushed gently over his cheekbone, it grounded them both. Kenneth leaned into his palm, eyes fluttered closed for a second and exhaled in a newfound relief.
“And with what you said before. You, me, a cabin and a farm full of moose.” Kenneth said breathlessly, an affectionate grin tugging on his lips.
“Yes. Yes to all of that.” he beamed, before he pulled Klas back in for another kiss.
The rest of the evening was spent sitting side by side watching the fire burn lower. They'd likely spent hours in each other's company but they'd long forgotten to keep track of time. Kenneth and Klas walked back to their shared cabin slowly, shoulders brushing. Still unsure and shy, but something had changed.
At the threshold, Kenneth opened the door, and Klas followed. They didn’t say anything, just exchanged small, knowing smiles that made something flutter in both their chests.
Kenneth glanced around the dim interior, and set about lighting the fireplace whilst Klas sat on the edge of his bed and toed off his boots. As Klas was changing into his nightwear, he turned around briefly unaware what Kenneth was up to.
The scrape of metal against floorboards broke the silence which caused Klas to spin back around to his full attention. He watched as Kenneth let out a harsh grunt and dragged his bed across the floor, and pushed it right beside Klas’.
Once the beds were together, the space between them disappeared. They finished changing silently and climbed into their beds and under the covers. After they lay down the two of them shuffled towards each other their limbs brushed beneath the sheets.
They paused briefly in hesitation as to where they’ll slot in together. It was Klas who moved first and curled his arm around Kenneth's waist, pulled him in slightly and his fingers splayed gently over the fabric of his undershirt. Whilst Kenneth buried his face in the crook of Klas’ neck. His nose brushed the warm skin there, his breath fanned out softly over Klas’ collarbone.
Morning came gently, sunlight slid through the window shutters in slanted beams. Klas stirred first, blinking sleep from his eyes. Kenneth laid beside him, arm tucked under his own head, the other draped loosely around Klas’ waist.
Klas stilled before reaching up to the other man, he brushed his fingers along Kenneth’s cheek with a fascinated tenderness he’d never allowed himself to have before last night. His touch was featherlight, as though he was afraid any pressure may make this moment vanish. The pads of his fingers traced the faint curve of a cheekbone, skimming the edge of stubble that had grown in the last few days of chaos in Gambämark.
He studied the other man’s face like a path he’d always known but never explored. Through cold mornings, long nights, brief touches and quiet companionship. But now, finally, he was allowing himself to see it.
Kenneth stirred, his eyes fluttered open. “Morning,” he rasped, voice husky with sleep.
Klas whispered and smiled, “Good morning,”
Kenneth and Klas spent the morning tangled in each other’s arms, limbs loosely draped across their bodies. They didn't speak much, a quiet word or comment here and there followed by soft laughter or tender kisses pressed to lips, shoulders and faces.
Eventually, they rose and traded the warmth of the bed and each other for the chilly late morning. They dressed in their standard hunting gear and stepped out into Gambämark. Despite the cold air, the birds chirped in the trees, and the sun was wanting to break through the dense skies.
The townspeople were gathered again in the square, a low buzz of anticipation emanated from the crowd as to who'll take the first steps out. Klas and Kenneth stood at the edge of it all, shoulder to shoulder, eyes fixed on the now-open gates.
Kenneth reached out and silently took Klas' hand. Their fingers entwined naturally, as they always had done accidentally but now neither of them pulled away. They strode into the town square hand-in-hand, catching the attention and stares of townspeople.
Josua spotted them, tugged on Berit’s sleeve to look in their direction and waved the pair over to join them, “Klas, Kenneth. Good morning!” the teenager beamed with his signature toothy grin.
A knowing smile grew on Berit's face, her eyes flicked between the pass partners, “You boys have anything to tell us?”
Kenneth smiled and motioned with his head towards his and Klas' hands, still entwined together, “I don't think it could be more obvious right now.”
Kurt approached the group, cleared his throat awkwardly. He didn’t quite meet their eyes. “I suppose congratulations are in order for the pair of you,” he said, whilst he adjusted his coat sleeve. “When you said you were grilling sausage... you know what? I’ll leave that thought unfinished.”
"Thanks, Kurt," Klas replied, he and Kenneth shared the same amused look to Kurt's reluctant acceptance of them, which likely spurred on by his change of heart for Josua's sake.
As if on cue Mäskis-Gunnar tore past on his moped, missing Kurt by inches and leaving a trail of dust in its wake. Kurt was left coughing and flailing and stumbled after him, waving his fist. “Again with that damn moped, I'll smash it to pieces myself!” Kurt proclaimed and began pacing away from the group and in the direction of the wild old man riding it down the road leading out of Gambämark.
The townspeople, one by one, began to move toward the gate. Some who had small bags intended to be gone for a while, others were just curious how the world had changed in the past fifteen years but had no desire to leave their simple life. But they all remained hopeful.
Klas stood still for a moment, letting it all sink in, the sunlight poured through the broken clouds, the rustle of movement around them, the slight tremble in his own hands. He turned to Kenneth and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Ready?”
Kenneth looked past the gate, toward the horizon that stretched far and wild. He inhaled deeply, the breath caught with the weight of everything they’d been through, everything they were stepping into. Then he nodded, eyes met Klas’ with quiet resolve.
“Let’s go see the world.”