Chapter Text
It’s hot on the beach, the sun reflecting on the waves and shining into Snufkin’s eyes as he casts his line out to catch some fish. He had hoped to be out here on his own, to let the sounds of the waves crashing against the sand fill his mind without judgement, to enjoy the rays on his skin, to think, but one is never truly alone in Moominvalley.
Once Moomin had heard news of his beach plans, he’d asked to join him, and Snufkin was happy to oblige, alone time was still alone time even with Moomin, the silence usually so natural and easy that it was hard to remember why he even liked being on his own so much.
But then Little My overheard and demanded to come, and so along with her came Sniff and Snorkmaiden like a little group that can’t do anything without one another.
The other four are currently messing around in the shallows not far from where Snufkin sits on the pier, bait at his side, shoes on the other, feet dipping into the water slightly. He doesn’t hate the company, per se, although the noise is annoying, the sight disturbing the peacefulness of the otherwise calm day. It is nice to see them all having fun though.
His line tightens and quivers, so he reels it in, smiling in triumph at the small fish hanging from the hook. He places the fish beside him, loading the hook with a worm before casting it again, watching it bob serenely in the water.
When he looks up, his eyes meet Moomin’s, and Snufkin smiles amicably, cheeks flushing slightly at the grin and wave he receives.
It hasn’t always been this way. Not even last year was he so affected by a simple gesture of affection from his friend, and as far as he could tell, nothing much had changed. Truth be told, he’s oddly scared of the feeling, and that’s mostly why he’d wanted to venture out here alone (or at the very least with someone who knows how to leave him alone when he needs it), so he could mull it over in a neutral space.
Because it feels strangely new, and special, and like something he might want to keep. And Snufkin doesn’t like to keep , doesn’t much enjoy special.
Once before, he’s heard of similar feelings. A quiet morning before Moomin awoke, sitting on the riverbank, Snorkmaiden had sat beside him and decided to talk about Moomin with him, about how he made her heart flutter, her cheeks warm, her mind fuzzy.
And everyone in Moominvalley knows the exact wording for what she feels for Moomin. It’s shameful that Snufkin had related to everything she’d said.
He feels his heart stutter a little when he remembers that best friends don’t feel that way for each other, and he wants to throw himself into the water and let it take him far away from his feelings.
“Can I sit with you?” A soft voice pulls him from his internal panic, quiet and sensitive as always, smiling warmly when Snufkin squints up at Moomin from the brim of his hat.
Snufkin moves his shoes next to his bait and pats the wooden plank, an assent. “Of course.”
Moomin sits, his damp fur brushing up against Snufkin's leg as his feet slip into the water. It's mostly silent between them, apart from the occasional shuffle to get comfier, and quiet exclamations when Snufkin manages to catch a bigger fish than normal.
The others don't bother them, too engrossed in their own game of water tag to care about the two of them just enjoying the sun.
“Hey Snuff?” Moomin asks for his attention quietly, stretched out and leaning on his hands behind his back with his eyes closed.
Snufkin finds he's thankful the other can't see him, a blush spreading on his cheeks at the nickname. “Yes Moomin?” He pulls the brim of his hat down when he opens his eyes, sitting up and grabbing something from the plank next to him.
“I know you don't like material things,” he begins, turning to face Snufkin as he puts his fishing rod down. “But I found this and it made me think of you, and if you hold it up to the sun, everything turns gold under it.”
In Moomin’s paw sits a slightly misshapen, but palm sized piece of sea glass, amber in colour and slightly matte from being sanded down throughout the years it’s been travelling. He demonstrates the gold colour on his paw as he holds the glass over it, a slightly apprehensive smile on his face, voice far away and soft. “It’s the same colour as your eyes when the sun hits them.”
Snufkin feels his face heat up even more, suddenly self-conscious (but it’s not wholly unpleasant), staring at the glass and wondering how true that is. “It’s… Very nice, Moomin.”
His friend seems to snap out of whatever distant thought he was having, kicking his legs a little in the water, the gentle splashing sound cutting through the atmosphere. “It’s for you, anyway, so you can carry around some sunshine in all that snow.” Moomin holds it out to Snufkin, who takes it without a second thought, watching it turn his palm gold.
“Thank you, I’ll treasure it forever.” And he means it, cheeks still warm as he returns to fishing, sitting with Moomin in a comfortable silence. Maybe it isn’t as catastrophic to feel for people as he thought.