Chapter Text
Beneath his feet, snow melts, falling away and giving the land back to the plants and flowers that grow in Moominvalley. He knows he’s almost home when he spots a small purple flower with long, thin petals. Aster.
Snufkin bends down to pick a few from where they are most abundant, taking great care to only take the ones that have already had their pollen collected by the bees buzzing around his head, making sure they aren’t home to any other insects. They make a small bouquet, gripped tight in his fist as he stands back up, Moominhouse like a beacon in the distance, drawing him in.
It used to scare him, especially the first time he returned, the first place he’d ever visited more than once. Now, it feels welcoming and exciting (if still a little terrifying), because even though there are plenty of people here, he is free to be himself.
And if that sense of self has changed over the years, it has only been what came naturally.
He hears the stream before he sees it, the water like a lullaby to him after sleeping on its banks for a lot of his life, and with a deep breath, he begins his Spring tune.
Light, breezy and carefree, Snufkin plays like it’s breathing, the melody like his heartbeat, the rhythm in time with his footsteps. It sounds like coming home, to the ones you love.
“Snufkin!” A voice exclaims, pulling him from his harmonica with a small smile, sliding it into his pocket when he sees Moomintroll bounding down the grassy hill from the porch towards the other side of the bridge, where Snufkin places his bag and the bouquet gently. “Snufkin!”
Letting himself laugh a little, the mumrik hurries to the bridge as well, to meet Moomin halfway, seeing all the joy and elation he feels reflected back at him in sky blue eyes. “Moomintroll.”
Moomin slows down, arms almost outstretched like he’s going in for a hug but thought better of it, saying Snufkin’s name again with slightly less enthusiasm but more warmth.
However, in a spur of the moment decision, Snufkin decides to not slow down, instead almost running into Moomin, hugging him tightly. It seems to shock the troll, who stumbles back a little from the force of a whole mumrik running at him, but he steadies himself and hugs back even tighter, fur soft under Snufkin’s hands. He smells like plum jam and honey, and Snufkin has never smelled anything so sweet.
After a little while, they let go of each other, eyes shining as they smile at each other and cheeks pink, but it was nice.
Snufkin clears his throat a little when the staring goes on for a little too long, gesturing towards Moominhouse vaguely. “H-how was your Winter?” He cringes a little at the stutter, hoping that Moomin didn’t notice.
“Oh, you know. Long. Cold,” Moomintroll hums, carefully sidestepping around Snufkin to begin helping him set up his campsite, tail swaying too perfectly to be subconscious. “And yours?”
Following him with a small skip, Snufkin bends down and picks up the asters before Moomin could see them, hiding them behind his back. He ignores Moomintroll’s curious frowning, avoiding his face. “Long. Cold.”
They chuckle as if sharing an inside joke, forgetting what they were doing for a moment before a frustrated scream comes from Moominhouse.
“Little My?” He asks, because he knows it is her, but he wants to know why she’s screaming.
Moomintroll looks away, busying himself with setting up Snufkin’s tent for him, with a skill that matches Snufkin’s own. “She knows what she did.”
Laughing at the ominous tone in his voice, Snufkin steps closer once Moomin has finished what he wanted to do, and holds his hands out, the small bouquet almost directly under the troll’s snout.
Moomin goes a little cross eyed trying to look at it before he takes a step back and raises an eyebrow. “Asters?”
“For you. I saw them on my way back and thought of you…” Now he’s saying it out loud, Snufkin finds himself a lot more embarrassed about it than he had been when picking them, despite it being clear in his mind the intention of doing so.
But Moomin gently takes the bunch from him, paws brushing his hands, and in this moment he looks so soft, so welcoming, that Snufkin can’t help but fall in love a little bit more.
“Snufkin… Thank you.” He looks like he wants to say more, but Little My rushes over, hair unusually messy and out of its normal shape, face like a thunderstorm, and they both run.
After a rapid chase, ending in Moomin falling into the river and Little My standing on his stomach, victorious, whilst Snufkin laughs from the bridge, the three of them make their way up to Moominhouse.
The asters somehow never left Moomin’s paw, which makes Snufkin smile as he watches his friend place them into a small jar with some water before he rushes upstairs to dry off.
Mamma and Pappa explain that they’re holding a small gathering at dinner, to welcome in the Spring, and Snufkin agrees to come, purely so he can spend time with Moomin (well, it’d be nice to see their other friends too, he supposes).
“You know, little brother,” Little My begins, swinging her legs in the chair as she peels some potatoes for Mamma after Snufkin washes them whilst he waits for Moomin to come back down. “Moomin didn’t sleep more than a few days at a time this whole Winter.”
He frowns a little, the words not meant to be worrying but still having that effect. “Is that so?”
She nods slowly, like he’s an idiot, but Mamma shoots her a look and Little My sighs. “I just thought that you might know why.”
Snufkin thinks about it for a moment but can’t come up with anything other than some ridiculous notions. Little My sighs and continues to peel the potatoes, tutting when Snufkin is slow to pass her one.
It must’ve been an unbearably long Winter for Moomin, if he couldn’t hibernate the way moomins are meant to, but he seemed chipper and well rested. Maybe he doesn’t need to hibernate right now?
Snufkin would be lying if he said he understood moomins completely. How can he when he barely understands his own species?
“Snufkin! There’s something I have to show you, come on!” Moomin says excitedly, running down the stairs and into the kitchen.
He dries his hands on a towel, nodding in recognition when Mamma thanks him for helping, before turning to follow Moomin out of the front door.
It’s only when he’s out of the house and trying to keep up with his friend to wherever it is he’s going to show him is that he realises he left his hat behind to dry on the windowsill after it got splashed by Little My. He debates turning back and getting it, but Moomin doesn’t seem to be in a waiting mood, so he sighs and jogs to catch up.
“What is it you need to show me?” Snufkin asks, trying to ignore the way the wind blows his hair around in a way that feels completely alien without his hat.
Moomin stops for a moment, and stares at Snufkin’s hair, clearly forgetting what he was going to say. It makes Snufkin feel a little self conscious, but something about the look in Moomin’s eyes stops him from reaching up to sort it out.
“Um… There’s a glade not too far from here, full of flowers that are new! The Hemulen told me about them all and what they mean yesterday, and I thought we could go there together…” Snufkin notices Moomin twisting his paws around each other as he talks, eyes still fixated on his hair, tail whipping back and forth almost anxiously.
Snufkin smiles and places a hand over Moomin’s paws, feeling warmth spread through his fingertips when it seems to help calm him down. “That sounds lovely, Moomin.”
Moomin hums softly, distant, before turning his paw over in Snufkin’s hold so he can hold his hand back, continuing on their path to the glade.
They get there way too soon in Snufkin’s opinion, letting go of their hands as the smell of new, exciting flowers fills their senses.
Around them is what appears to be hundreds of flowers of varying shapes, sizes and colours, all with different scents and yet somehow it all makes sense together. The glade is empty besides the two of them, like a secret only they know for now.
Moomin leads Snufkin around, pointing at different bushes and clusters, explaining their origins and their names, describing things about them in perfect detail. Snufkin nods along, finding them all to be beautiful and exciting in their own ways, but none of them scream out to him, not the way the asters had.
But then he stops to appreciate a small bush with dark green, leathery leaves, full of fragrant white flowers, their petals soft and waxy to the touch. Moomin stops his explanation of a different flower and waits when he realises Snufkin has fallen behind, his tail swaying gently behind him as he stands.
“Those are pretty,” the troll muses as he returns to Snufkin’s side after a moment, considering something for a moment before picking one gently and placing it in Snufkin’s hair, tucked against the shell of his ear. Moomin steps back a little, and tilts his head before nodding to himself. “Even prettier now.”
Snufkin reaches up to carefully feel the flower in his hair, feeling his cheeks burn, unfortunately without a hat to hide underneath. “What’s this one… Called?”
Shaking his head, Moomin turns away and continues walking. “That’s a secret.”
A secret? Snufkin glances at the bush again, the feeling of Moomin’s soft paw on his ear like a brand, and he hopes he never forgets how soft and caring it felt.
They spent another hour in the glade, discussing flowers and their meanings, but no matter how much gentle prodding Snufkin did, Moomintroll wouldn’t tell him what the one he gave him meant, or even its name, changing the subject with haste.
Maybe it didn’t matter, but something about the way the moment flowed felt… Strong, too important to just gloss over any of it.
As they return to the valley, they stand close as they walk, arms brushing together with every other step, not brave enough to reach out and tangle fingers after such a charged afternoon.
The small gathering appears to be more of a post-hibernation party, with almost everyone present, including a few faces Snufkin doesn’t recognise. He feels the suffocating pressure close around his lungs a little, but Moomin pulls him into the house instead of around to the garden where everyone else is.
“Moomintroll?”
“I have to tell you something before we go out there,” he whispers, looking about as nervous as Snufkin feels. “I broke up with Snorkmaiden.”
For a moment, the only sounds in the room is the music from the party outside, and the chatter and laughter. What does one say to that? How is Snufkin supposed to respond?
For a start, his heart leaps into his throat, almost choking him, because… Does this mean he has a chance? And then there’s guilt, because he shouldn’t feel as elated about this as he does.
“... How did she take it?”
Moomin looks out of the window, fiddling with his tail. “Not… Not great, at first. She was quite upset before we went into hibernation, but she isn’t angry anymore, she said she understands now.”
Angry? Well, Snufkin supposes that she has every right to be upset. “And you? Is that what kept you up all Winter?”
He thinks of the flower in his hair, of the softness of his paw in his hand, of the gentle smiles, and finds himself a little embarrassed at how desperately he wants their breakup to be over him .
“I… Sort of?” Moomin sounds embarrassed too, and Snufkin finds himself smiling in spite of it all. “It was for the best, I think. No, I know.”
“Then that’s all that matters,” Snufkin whispers, taking Moomin’s paw and heading to the door. “Let’s party.”
A few hours in, after a dinner of Spring delicacies, cooked to perfection by Mamma (with Little My’s help), everyone is either dancing or chatting, drinks of juice (or punch) in hand, catching up after the long Winter.
Moomin is dancing with Little My, the two of them laughing joyously. Snufkin has noticed Snorkmaiden glancing in his direction a few times, and they share a small smile across the dancefloor before she dances with Sniff.
"May I sit with you, Snufkin?" The Hemulen asks, eyes fixated on his hair, like almost everyone that came and spoke to him. Was it really that odd for him to be seen without his hat?
He nods, shuffling along the hay bale so the Hemulen has more room to sit. "Of course."
Neither of them say anything for a while, Snufkin enjoying the lack of conversation.
"That's a nice flower you have there," the Hemulen says matter-of-factly, voice quiet against the music but words like shouting in Snufkin's ears. "Did Moomin take you to the glade we found?"
Another nod, not trusting his voice, finger running around the rim of his glass.
"Are you aware of what that flower means?"
He shakes his head, glancing at Moomin and feeling his heart jump at the sight of his joyous smile, chuckling as Little My steps on his toes. "He wouldn't tell me."
Humming softly in thought, the Hemulen announces his departure, shaking Snufkin's hand before finding someone else to talk to.
He's idly reminded of the midsummer party from last year, uncomfortable and alone, breath stifled, only now he has eyes on him, and it makes him feel much too big for his skin.
"Hey," Moomin greets, smiling and out of breath, holding out his paw for him. "Dance with me?"
Snufkin stares blankly at his outstretched paw, debating whether it was worth possibly embarrassing himself just to be close to Moomin. It's not even a question.
Placing his hand in his paw, he smiles and lets Moomin pull him up, bringing him over to the dancefloor.
The song isn't particularly quick, nor is it very slow, just the right rhythm for Snufkin to not feel uncomfortable with people watching.
Moomin spins him around carefully, mindful of the other dancers, laughing when Snufkin stumbles a little, holding him upright. "Sorry, I shouldn't laugh."
Snufkin laughs along, trying to let loose and not worry, finding it easier to go along with having fun when he's so close to Moomin. He knows his face must be pink, but in this moment, he finds that he doesn't care.
When the song finishes, the two of them sit back down, watching everyone else dance, talking about everything and nothing.
Absent-mindedly, Snufkin fiddles with his sea glass as Moomin talks about Little My's Winter antics, watching how the multi-coloured string lights behind them reflect on the surface made smooth by his hands.
"You… Kept it?" Moomin asks halfway through a rendition of how he woke up covered in pea soup.
A little startled, Snufkin fumbles it, catching it before it falls. "I- of course I kept it…?" Why was that even a question? Well, it makes sense Moomintroll would assume he didn't keep it. He always kept it with him no matter what, to keep it safe, because he'd never had anything he valued enough to have anything to protect it (besides his hat and harmonica, but those were usually always with him too).
"I just thought that since you didn't like to keep things, you wouldn't have it anymore..." A sigh, then a bright smile. "Is it really that special to you?"
Snufkin takes some time to mull over the question, given how loaded it is, but he hurries up his thoughts when Moomin's smile begins to slip. "Yes."
The short answer doesn't seem to be enough, a slight look of doubt in his blue eyes.
"Because it's from you…"
The way his eyes light up again, the way his fur turns pink under his eyes, the way his mouth turns up, how something in the atmosphere around them changes, it all sends butterflies swarming to Snufkin's stomach, eyes averted.
"Stay in the house with me tonight," Moomin says, repositioning the flower in Snufkin's hair, it probably having slipped as they were dancing. "I'll tell you about the flower then."
It's been so long since they last had a sleepover, and with the softness surrounding them, how could Snufkin ever say no?
The party ended on a high, fireworks lighting up the sky to welcome in the warmer weather, and everyone hugged and laughed and said their goodbyes before going home.
Sniff and Snorkmaiden are staying a little longer, and so the five of them all sit in the living room, sharing stories and eating leftovers. Mamma and Pappa had retired to bed not long ago, but Snufkin can hear them snoring gently up the stairs when the conversation lulls.
"- and Sniff was so scared he ran for miles, screaming!" Little My shouts, jumping into Moomin's shoulder next to Snufkin, laughing maniacally as the others laugh as well at Sniff's expense.
"Guys that's so not fair." Sniff whines, crossing his arms over his chest and slumping down on the sofa.
Snorkmaiden pats his knee reassuringly, despite the fact that she's still laughing. It just makes Sniff huff louder, turning his face away.
"I'm sure there really was something there," Snufkin offers, crossing his leg over the other, trying not to jolt in surprise when Little My picks Moomin's arm up and puts it around his shoulders before sitting on his head. "Although now we'll never know. If only you were brave enough to check."
Moomin laughs a little louder. "Don't be so harsh, Snuff."
Snorkmaiden's smile falls when she looks at them, before she stands and yawns. "Well, I guess I should go home. Thanks for the party, I'll see myself out."
Frowning, Snufkin moves to stand to see her out anyway, but Sniff jumps up and declares his departure too, wishing them all a good night before following Snorkmaiden out of the front door.
"Well that was sudden," Little My announces after their footsteps grow too quiet to hear. "I wonder what that was all about." Her tone of voice says she knows, and her eyes twinkle with mischief before she hops off of Snufkin's head, wandering upstairs.
"Maybe we should go to bed too," Moomin wonders out loud, bringing his arm back to his lap, not quite as chipper as just now. "We should talk."
Snufkin doesn't like the serious tone, can't stand the way it makes his hair stand on end on instinct, ready to run at the first sign of emotional damage. But he nods, standing, letting Moomin lead the way to his bedroom.
Moomintroll's bedroom is exactly as it was the last time he was in it, familiar and welcoming. Even the newer additions from more recent years (like the picture of Moomin striking a heroic pose on his bedside table that makes Snufkin giggle fondly) are easily recognised.
The door shuts with a click, and Moomin sits on the bed as Snufkin picks up the other photo frame on his bedside table, heart melting at the picture of the two of them sitting on the bridge from a few years ago.
"Gardenia," Moomin says, voice clear and certain, only a hint of apprehension in it. Snufkin sits down when Moomin pats the space next to him, excited despite the need he feels to not get his hopes up. "This flower."
Snufkin nods a little as Moomin takes the flower out of his hair, holding it out on his paw for them both to look at as he talks, Snufkin's heart in his throat.
"It has a few meanings, but when the Hemulen told me about it, it just made me think of you," the troll places it in Snufkin's lap, before swivelling around to face him. "When given, they mean 'you are lovely', and you are, Snufkin," he doesn't seem to be done, but already Snufkin feels like he might spontaneously combust, blushing so hard he doesn't know how Moomin doesn't look surprised. "But most of all, they convey a secret love, or a love untold…"
Unable to hold Moomin's gaze, Snufkin drops his eyes to the flower in question, scooping it up into his hand gently and inspecting it, blood rushing in his ears. "... For me…?"
"For you."
Snufkin almost can't believe it. For him.
"That's why Snorkmaiden was upset before she left… And why I had to break up with her," Moomin starts sounding less confident, like his bravado is slipping, and Snufkin wants nothing more than to just tell him how much he loves him back, but finds the words get stuck in his throat. "And if you'd rather go back to your tent now that would be… Okay."
Now is the time, he thinks, taking a deep breath and putting the gardenia next to the framed photo of them both before he takes Moomin's paws into his hands and wills himself to be brave. "No wonder I was so drawn to it, then," he begins, talking slowly to make sure he says it right. "I think perhaps we both hold a secret love, for each other."
The tension of the day rains down on them suddenly, and Moomin pulls them both off of the bed, hugging Snufkin hard enough to lift him off his feet, and they both laugh brightly.
"Oh Snufkin, I was so worried you'd hate me!"
"Not possible," Snufkin smiles, putting his hands on Moomin's cheeks gently so he can press their lips together softly, blushing when Moomin makes a confused sound before nuzzling his cheek. "How could I hate the only person who has ever felt like home to me?"
They share a smile that says everything they can never put into words, new and special yet not all that different from smiles they've shared since the dawn of their friendship.
"I love you, Snufkin." Moomin whispers as they lay down to sleep, snuggled up close and comfortably so.
The moonlight hits the sea glass on the bedside table beside the gardenia and asters, and Snufkin has never felt happier. "I love you too, Moomintroll."