Chapter Text
Looking at the situation plainly, there was no requirement to give Moomin flowers.
Snufkin made the familiar trip back to the Moomins house, though admittedly his pace was slower than usual. His pack felt heavy on his back, and he found himself staring at his boots more than the world he admired so.
The festival ended, but Snufkin had chose to stay away for a few days. It was for good measure. He didn’t want to be around until everyone had left, and the valley would return to its normal. It was true that Snufkin skipped the festival despite saying he would do otherwise, and that he found himself nervous for how Moomin would feel on the matter. Though he knew his dear friend, and Moomin would be understanding. He would shrug it off, perhaps complain about the missed time, but otherwise it wouldn’t be a big deal. Technically, if Snufkin returned to his friend empty handed, there would be no repercussions.
And why should he be worried? There was nothing truly tying him to how Moomin felt. His friend could get along very well without him. There was no need to involve himself more in a situation that barely mattered. It mattered so little, in fact, that he had been thinking about it night and day.
The temptation to throw his small bouquet off to the side and continue on his merry way was strong. He had an excuse, after all. He was spending time with the Joxter- no one could blame him for wanting alone time with his father. Who cares if it fell on the same day as the festival? The Joxter didn’t live on Moominvalley time.
As he walked, his mind wandered back to how he ended in this situation.
Days spent with his father weren’t ones he regretted. They had decided to spend a few days together. Well, about as “together” as two travelers who needed alone time could get. They often spent the mornings going about their own routines, rejoining at the end of the day to talk and tell tales. They both had many stories to share, but at that time Joxter would only accept stories that involved young Moomintroll. Despite how many times Snufkin tried to avoid the topic, Joxter insisted on bringing it back up. Refusing to talk of it was difficult when it was the one thing that plagued his mind.
“Well what would I even get him?” Snufkin had asked after short banter, sounding playfully exasperated.
“Roses, I’d wager. Dear Mymble loves to receive those.”
“I can’t get Moomintroll roses.”
“Why not?”
“They practically, well… I don’t know if I can be so forward.” Joxter raised an eyebrow at Snufkin as a knowing grin spread across his face, and the murmik frowned upon seeing how funny his father found this.
“If it’s the language of flowers you’re concerned with, boy, I have just the thing.” Joxter gave a wink.
Snufkin sighed out of his thoughts.
His grip tightened on the yellow flowers in his hand. His gaze finally rose, following up path as towards the bridge. There was Moomin, sitting by the stream. Snufkin stopped in his tracks, admiring the sight. Moomin looked so peaceful, laying back in the grass, eyes closed. Was he waiting for him? Part of Snufkin dearly hoped so, the other part only felt skittish at the thought.
Snufkin looked around. This was his last chance to abandon this silly endeavor. He had told himself that if there was any sign of another soul that he’d shove the flowers onto his hat, pretending they were meant to be there, and give up entirely. For once in his life, Snufkin wasn’t so happy that it was just him and Moomin. And yet, he wouldn’t have wanted it the other way.
As he came closer, Moomin’s ears twitched. His eyes opened, and before Snufkin knew it Moomin was on his feet, running to meet him. It was a sight he doubted he’d ever grow tired of.
“Snufkin!” Moomin cheered, “Snufkin! Where have you been? You’ll never believe what you missed!”
“Moomintroll,” Snufkin nodded his head, though not feeling as confident as usual. Moomin didn’t seem to notice, launching right into tale.
“Oh Snufkin, you missed so much! The festival was fantastic. There was a lot of music, and so many foods to try! Sniff ate so much, he claimed to be preparing for hibernation. Can you imagine? Preparing in the beginning of summer! He was so full he wouldn’t even dance, but I looked over and he was still picking at the food. And oh! The trouble My was getting herself into. She’s a handful alone, horrible with her army. Snorkmadien and I danced, but I wish you would’ve been there. I wanted to dance with you!”
Snufkin blinked, but lowered his hat to cover his eyes. ‘I wanted to dance with you.’ Part of him regretted not going. He didn’t respond as Moomin began to ask questions of where he was or, after a moment, if everything was okay. Instead he held out the bright flowers- yellow acacias. Moomin tilted his head, as if noticing them for the first time.
“They’re for you.” Snufkin tried to explain, finding himself tripping over his own words. He didn’t dare look up, refusing to see what reaction Moomin might have. God knows he wouldn’t be able to live after this if it was bad. “As an apology. For missing the festival. I left on my own, it was.. too much for me, I suppose. I needed some time to myself.”
Finally, he felt soft paws take the flowers from his own. Curiosity got the better of him, and Snufkin slowly peeked out from beneath his hat, only for his eyes to widen. Moomin looked… flustered, almost. Embarrassed? He hoped not. Maybe he should apologize for the flowers. Oh, why did he even listen to Joxter in the first place? The old man doesn’t know a thing about relationships. He visits the Mymble once, maybe twice, a year. He was just about ready to pull his hat over his head and scream when Moomin pulled him into a tight embrace.
For a moment the world was frozen in the best possible way.
“They’re beautiful, Snufkin!” Moomin pulled away, too fast in the Murmik’s opinion. “But I’m not upset you weren’t there. Plus, there’s going to be plenty of times for us to dance together!”
Snufkin blinked before a warm smile spread across his face. How predictable, yet somehow that was just what he wanted. Without thinking too hard on it, Snufkin took Moomin’s hand.
“Well, I’m sure it won’t be half as fun as the festival, but we can still dance. There doesn’t need to be an occasion, does there?” His free hand pulled out his harmonica, holding it up to his lips as he awaited a response.
It came in an immediate nod.
“But wait a moment!” Snufkin watched Moomin with curiosity. He took three flowers out of the bouquet, and easily weaved them onto Snufkin’s hat. His eyes trailed from the hat down to meet Snufkin’s own. “Perfect.”
He dearly hoped that his face didn’t look as red as it felt hot.
Still, he didn’t feel embarrassed. Instead he laughed, and began playing a tune. It was happier than his Spring tune, bursting with joy. Moomin took one hand and they swung around, moving their legs this way and that. There was little rhyme or reason to it, though Snufkin attempted to keep in some sort of tune with the music. He couldn’t say it was his main focus at that moment.
They danced in circles, laughing and carefree as could be. They danced until Moomin tripped and Snufkin fell after him, leaving them both in this grass.
“Oof! Sorry about that!” Moomin giggled, looking down at Snufkin. He was missing his hat. Moomin happily grabbed it and placed it on his own head.
Snufkin smiled. “That’s quite okay. Though I think we’ll need some practice.”
“That’s okay! Winter isn’t coming anytime soon! We’ll have plenty more adventures together.” Moomin stated, admiring the yellow flowers. They weren’t in amazing shape anymore, but there wasn’t a trace of concern on Moomin’s face.
“Yes… Yes I think we will.” Snufkin laid down, staring up at the clouds. Something about it all made his heart beat faster.