Chapter Text
It is not a remarkable day by any means. In fact, as far as most days go, this may be the most mundane of them. Snufkin is sure of it, which should have been his first clue that this day was going to be anything but.
Recently, he’s been less sure of just about anything, and the blame can be put solely on his fluffy white friend beside him.
The sun is accompanied by a flock of whisky clouds, and the breeze ruffling the fringes of Snufkin’s hat carry only the faintest chill. Blades of grass tickle the underside of his knee, his legs laid out on either side of him as he soaks up the late-summer sun. His hands itch for his harmonica or his pipe, but both items require him to walk over to his tent and shatter the tender atmosphere he and Moomin share. He settles with nibbling on the inside of his cheek.
Fall isn’t as patient this year as it’s always been. It’s pushing summer out before it has the chance to thoroughly tan Snufkin’s skin. Moomin had once compared his mocha freckles to constellations, and Snufkin would have loved to count them on his winter journeys underneath a starry sky of his own. Next year, perhaps he will be more lucky.
Silence as encapsulated the valley, another oddity of the day. Normally Little My is causing a ruckus loud enough to hear from miles around. Not even Sniff has found a way to intrude upon their peaceful-dare Snufkin say intimate -solitude.
The prickles of anxiety strike upon this realization. It should be just another day sitting with Moomin, soaking up the sun, enjoying the quiet conversation between them. It should be. It must be.
Then why does Snufkin suspect the exact opposite to be true?
Moomin sighs. The airy sound is enough to make Snufkin jump. What could possibly follow a sigh so heavenly, so precise in its weight? Something must. Perhaps it would be best to kill his paranoia and ask directly? But then what if he’s right, and whatever Moomin has to say causes Snufkin’s world to fall into disarray like he believes it will?
“What’s the matter? You seem preoccupied.”
Moomin looks to his friend, his gaze soft, impossibly so. However, they hold a sharp fear that mirrors Soufkin’s own. “N-Nothing much. Just...pondering.”
Snufkin takes the bait. “Over what?”
Silky hair brushes against his hand as Moomin’s tail curls nervously around himself. “Oh, it’s not...it doesn’t matter.”
“Don’t say that. I’m sure it does, even if it’s nothing dire.”
Moomin blinks, startled. “W-Well, I...it’s something I’ve actually wanted to...no. No, nevermind. It really doesn’t matter. Really.”
Snufkin carves out one last chunk of his cheek and pushes forward. “Moomin, you don’t have to ever be afraid to tell me anything. Afterall, we’ve been pals for-How long has it been now? Surely over a decade.”
“Twelve years,” Moomin corrects easily, even with the croak in his voice. Of course Moomin would remember. He’s always had that added attention to detail Snufkin just doesn’t have the mind for.
“Right. There’s nothing you could say that would upset me.”
Moomin’s face darkens. He turns slightly away, wringing his hands together in his lap. “Oh, I’m sure there is. In fact, I’m absolutely sure of it...”
Now Snufkin is scared. Not yet veering into terrified, for he’s sure the true terrifying bits of their conversation have yet to be unleashed. Regardless of how he feels, Snufkin reaches out a hand and grasps it firmly overtop of Moomin’s. “Impossible. Now if you were Stinky or anyone else, maybe. But my dear Moomintroll? No, you could never upset me.”
Moomin frowns, deep in thought.
“Please Moomin,” Snufkin pushes. “Don’t get upset. You haven’t even told me yet.”
It’s the tipping point of their discussion, the moment where Moomin makes up his mind and the world falls out of orbit. Snufkin holds his breath as Moomin takes a deep one in, squeezing his eyes shut as if to rid himself of the doubts plaguing his mind. Then finally he opens them, and stares straight into Snufkin’s own.
“If I told you I loved you Snufkin, would you leave the valley forever?”
Snufkin, a bit late on the draw, answers with a shrill, “ Huh? ”
Moomin’s face erupts with a dark, cherry blush. “I-If I told you I loved you..If I told you I had loved you for a long while, but had been too afraid to say it… what would you do?”
Snufkin may have never been to a proper school, but he would like to believe he at least had the brains to piece together the very obvious declaration Moomin has given him. For some reason, he’s having a hard time thinking of a response. He’s also having difficulty remembering how to breathe.
A long pause stretches out between them. Too long. Moomin looks away dejectedly, already coming to a conclusion of his own. “It’s alright...You don’t have to answer. I was just-”
When Moomin’s voice breaks, something inside Snufkin does the same. As the troll launches himself to his feet and tries to dart away, Snufkin has enough willpower left to jump up and latch onto his arm. He solidifies his fate with this one action, but Moomin’s feelings have always taken priority in Snufkin’s life, no matter how much of a foothold his friend has had in it.
“Please don’t go.”
Moomin stays.
“I’m sorry. Y-You caught me off guard, that’s all. I...I would never leave the valley forever . I would never leave you , Moomin. You know that. You do know that, right?”
A few shimmering tears pile up in the corners of Moomin’s eyes. Snufkin’s heart plummets.
“Oh. Oh no, my dear Moomintroll. Please don’t-I never, ever meant...Why would you-? Is it because of all those years I was late?”
“It was only three times,” Moomin corrects weakly, then immediately tenses. “Oh! Snufkin it wasn’t your fault, though! There was that one year you caught that nasty cold, and the other when the river flooded, and and-”
This year, Snufkin thinks despairingly. This year when he hadn’t been sick. This year when nature hadn’t sabotaged his return trip. No, this year something much more imposing than bad luck had kept Snufkin wandering the southern forests. This year, Snufkin had dared to reflect on the many feelings he had buried deep, deep down. What he discovered scared him so much he thought foolishly that he could hide from it. But he returned to Moominvalley all the same, the latest he had ever been.
With fall coming early, followed closely behind by winter, it’s no wonder Moomin felt the need to confess when he did. They’ve both reached their first true year of adulthood, and with that new chapter comes freedom. Freedom to change, to move away, to separate.
Snufkin trails his hand down until it’s intertwined with Moomin’s. He gives it a mighty squeeze, his muscles tight with despair. Moomin trails off, staring at their hands.
“I needed more time alone this year,” Snufkin admits, his voice but a regretful murmur.
Moomin nods expectantly. “I see…”
Snufkin squeezes his hand again, harder. “You know how much I treasure my solitude, Moomin.”
“More than anything.”
Snufkin shakes his head. “No. That’s not true.”
Years ago, Snufkin would have never dared to cup Moomin’s face in his hand. A year ago, he still wouldn’t have had the courage to do it. But now, with the sun illuminating this destined moment with golden warmth and bountiful promise, he knows how needed the leap is.
“I treasure you far more.”
Big, fat tears roll down Moomin’s cheeks. Snufkin brushes them away with the pad of his thumbs only for fresh ones to appear.
“Oh, my Moomintroll. I’m so sorry. Hey now, it’s alright.”
Moomin can’t help himself. He tries to pull away but Snufkin sure isn’t letting go of him now. “I was just s-so scared. ”
“I know. I know. I wish I could’ve helped you. I wish I’d been brave enough to tell you sooner.”
Moomin gives a lopsided smile. “It doesn’t matter now...does it?”
Snufkin smiles back. “It can if you want it to.”
Moomin thinks for a moment. “Maybe later.”
They bask in a shared laugh. Snufkin’s insides are warm and bubbly, but an inkling of terror has in fact mixed its way in despite himself. This is the beginning of a new chapter in their lives, one that they share together. And while Snufkin doesn’t shy away from the commitment, he finds himself fearing something far greater. Something, like love, he will come to understand with time.
The more he tries to pinpoint what it is, the stronger that terror becomes. Moomin notices his sudden shift in mood, ears pricking to attention. “Snufkin?”
“I’m...I’m scared, Moomin.”
Moomin smiles softly. “I know. I am too.”
“What does this...what does this mean? What are we now?”
Moomin cocks his head. “Boyfriends?”
The label hits Snufkin like a sucker punch. He feels the blood drain from his face, air leaving his lungs. He doesn’t mean to start trembling, but his body is no longer his to control.
“O-Or not! Or…not,” Moomin struggles.
“N-No,” Snufkin squeaks out. “We are...something. Just…”
“No labels?”
“No labels.”
Moomin smiles patiently. “But more than friends.”
A lump rises to Snufkin’s throat. He nods furiously.
“Aww, Snufkin. We can’t both be crying!”
Snufkin didn’t even know he was crying. He rubs harshly at his eyes, his sleeve coming back spotted with tears. “I want this. I r-really do. It’s just…”
“A lot?”
“A lot .”
“You’ve never done this before, have you?”
“Never,” he admits shamefully. “But not even that. I’ve...never given so much to anyone before. Not even my own parents. T-That’s what normal people do, right? But not me. And I want to, but...what if I can’t? ”
Moomin’s tail uncurls, now swaying apprehensively atop the grass. “Well...I think you already have given me a lot. Your kindness, your time, your loyalty. I don’t need much more than you, and I already have that. However much more you want to give, you can give at your own pace. I’d never rush you.”
The emotions flowing inside Snufkin boil over. For as far back as Snufkin can remember, this is the hardest he has ever cried in front of someone before.
“Oh Snufkin! If you keep crying then I’ll keep crying too!”
They do keep crying, and they don’t stop for a long while. Not until Snufkin’s bones are as heavy as the rocks beneath the stream. His head is pressed into Moomin’s shoulder before he realizes it, and his more-than-a-friend makes quick work in enveloping him into a firm embrace.
Moomin’s touch sends a bolt of electricity up his spine, sharper than any spark from a hattifattener. This is new too, the touching, holding, hugging, whatever name for it is used. The most contact Snufkin settles with is often a hearty handshake. He stiffens at first, and for a few moments he stays that way. But once Moomin’s tail curls around him, he melts like butter atop a crisp slice of toast.
It’s all foreign, and horrifying, and personal, and smothering, but most importantly of all it’s nice .
When they finally do pull apart, the sun has begun its trek across the other side of the earth. They sky is a faint caramel, with the clouds acting as the flat cream spread across it. Snufkin looks to Moomin, just as ruffled and puffy-eyed as he is, and gives a wobbly beam.
“I love you, too, y’know.”
The endearment that blossoms along Moomin’s face makes the fear all the more worth it.