Archive of Our Own

“I didn't ask for your opinion!” Moomin yells, voice shaky from desperation, frustration and hurt. “Why can't you just listen?! I just want you to listen to me!” Hot, angry tears stream down his snout. 

Snufkin stares at him wildly, the offense clear in his scrunched nose. “I am listening,” he tries to defend, fighting to keep his tone calm. 

Moomin grunts loudly, a sound somewhere between a snort and an angry huff. This just tips Snufkin over the edge. “Don't blame me for wanting to help!” His voice has taken on an edge of bitterness. 

“Help?!” Moomin immediately barks back. “I didn't ask for help! You always have to share some great advice, be the smart one, have all the solutions,” he gestures wildly, but then suddenly pauses, looking at Snufkin with such pained anger plastered across his face. “Am I stupid to you? Someone who just needs help constantly?”

Snufkin tries to respond, now yelling, too, getting desperate. “No-” but he's cut off. 

“I just wanted to share how I felt and have you sympathize a bit! But I wonder, can you even do that?! All you care about is yourself, your needs, your feelings! You never cared how I felt!” Their fight has been completely derailed; what were they even arguing about originally? 

Snufkin stares at Moomin in utter disbelief, breathing very fast. But Moomin hasn't noticed yet. “For once, Snufkin, give a damn about someone other than yourself!” The words linger in the silent vacuum the two suddenly find themselves in when Snufkin doesn't answer and Moomin seems to realize what he said. He can't take it back, even if he wants to. But at that moment, he didn't. In that moment of stifling anger, overwhelmed by hurt, he doesn't care what he said. The words were intended to hurt. “And if you're incapable of doing that, don't bother trying,” Moomin immediately stands up from the log he was occupying by the campsite and stomps back to the Moominhouse, hoping Snufkin feels just as hurt as him.

__________

When the tent is gone the next day, he isn't surprised. Yet, it stings a little. How easy it is for Snufkin to just run away, while Moomin remains. He thinks back to what he had said and regrets how true his accusation is. Snufkin needed to get away and so he did; following his own needs, once again. 

The anger persists and Moomin stubbornly gets on with his day, pretending to move on.

And the anger stays on the second day, too, when there is still no sight of Snufkin. Also on the third day. A bit on the fourth. But on the fifth day, Moomin can't find the anger any more and worry takes over. Along with a bucket full of regret. 

What if Snufkin doesn't come back? 

It doesn't help when he tries to remember the exact words he said. The shame is unbearable, so to spare his sanity, his mind tries to block the correctness of the memory. Did he really say such awful things? He couldn't have. Yet, he knows. His heart knows, because it aches like porcelain under a slow press; for a while, it doesn't give, though you can hear the pressure building, until suddenly, it snaps, breaking into a million pieces. 

If Snufkin doesn't come back, it will be his fault. Moomin isn't sure he can forgive himself for that. 

But there isn't much he can do about it either. It is hard to mend a falling out with one part missing. Communication takes two and right now, there is only Moomin. 

Another day passes. Then another. Eight days later, Moomin is sure he has lost his best friend forever. The porcelain cracks. He doesn't leave his room, nor his bed, except in the morning to check the empty campsite beside the river.

His parents are very understanding and accommodating of his miserable heartbreak, though at a loss what to do about it. Moominmamma brings every meal up to him and Moominpappa generally minds his own; he's never been good with emotions regardless, best leave that to the professionals, meaning Moominmamma. 

Little My, however, has no care for his misery, taking joy in tormenting him as usual. 

But something eventually shifts within the little mymble. 

“When are you going to be normal again?”

Moomin lies in his bed, staring at the ceiling with dead eyes when Little My enters. “Probably never,” Moomin answers monotonously. His dramatics just earn an eye roll.

She jumps onto the bed and crawls on top of his belly. Moomin doesn't look at her, but he can tell she's staring with intent. “Yes, you are. I've had enough of this behavior, you miserable sack of potatoes,” she says, poking him hard in the chest with a pointy finger. “Get up!”

Finally Moomin looks at her, surprised at her demanding tone. But he isn't convinced that easily. With a heavy sigh, he rolls onto his side, burrowing his face into his pillow. 

Little My jumps before getting squashed and glares daggers into the back of his head. “I'm trying to help you, you know,” she mutters, the concept of doing something nice for someone else sounding foreign in the little mymble's mouth.

Yet, all Moomin hears is how much her words mirror Snufkin’s. He had also just been ‘trying to help’... Moomin feels like an ungrateful friend all of sudden. He spares her a glance over his shoulder, which immediately softens her expression. Just a bit.

“Right. Now, get up.” 

Reluctantly, Moomin rolls over and sits up. Little My grabs his paw and pulls him up to stand as she jumps off the bed. “Where are we going?” He asks. 

“To see Snufkin,” Little My says matter-of-factly, continuing forward without sparing him a glance. 

Moomin stops instantly, making the mymble come to a halt, too. “My… Snufkin isn't here.”

Little My tugs hard at his hand, tutting frustratedly. “I know that, I'm not stupid! But I know where he is, so now we are going to have you two make up, so you can stop acting all ridiculous! Both of you!” 

Moomin still isn't moving, despite Little My putting all her weight in to pull him forward. His expression has gone completely blank. His insides are going ballistic; the relief and excitement that he is going to see Snufkin again make his stomach bubble, yet the fear that Snufkin will reject him forms knots on his intestines. It’s like he is going to burst from the overwhelming wave of mixed emotions. 

“Moomin, come ON!” Little My urges, pulling an extra hard tug at his hand, but in that instance, he lets go to grab his chest and Little My falls backwards, tumbling a few times. 

Moomin is hyperventilating. “I don't think I can do this,” he murmurs and goes back to his bed to sit down. In his mind, the scene of their fight plays out and Moomin is reminded of all the awful things he said. How is he going to make up for that? 

Little My snarls from her position on the floor and covers her eyes in exasperation. “Ugh, you're impossible! I can't get Snufkin to come to you and I can't get you to come to him! Why are you both so stubborn?!”

For a moment, Moomin stops breathing. “You talked to him? … and he doesn't want to come back?” Suddenly, he feels like crying, but he bites back the tears. “Surely he doesn't want to see me, then…” 

“Fine, be that way!” Little My barks and promptly stands up to leave, but Moomin is hit by desperation.

“Wait!” 

He’s sure Snufkin doesn't want to see him. But Moomin would definitely like to see Snufkin, even if he isn't going to talk to him. When he previously thought he'd never see his best friend again, perhaps he should grasp this opportunity to see him one last time. 

“O-okay… show me where he is,” Moomin says in a shaky voice, but feeling determined. He reassures himself it is fine; Snufkin always acts on what he needs. This is something Moomin needs. 

__________

It isn't that long of a walk and Moomin feels a little silly for not having thought to look around for Snufkin himself. 

Little My leads the way and once they get close, still slightly out of sight, she gestures for him to approach, but Moomin hesitates. He squats down and crawls forward, hiding behind a large rock and trying to get a glance at Snufkin without getting spotted himself. 

The mumrik is sitting by the river bank, fishing pole in hand and chewing on a piece of straw, his tent set up in the background. He looks content, which irks Moomin a little. He had been suffering for days and here is Snufkin, looking absolutely fine. 

Moomin's cover is, however, corrupted by Little My, who refuses to hide. She stands beside the large rock, staring at him with a mocking expression, arms crossed. Her red dress and pink bow stands out vibrantly in the green scenery. If they make any sound, Snufkin will surely see her. And Little My knows this, obviously, by the way her lips curl into a smirk. 

Panicking, Moomin tries to stop her, but it is too late. “Oi, Snufkin!” She calls, while keeping her eyes on Moomin, lavishing his evolution of panic. 

Moomin stops dead in his tracks, paws hovering over her in an attempt to cover her mouth, but being too late. He feels a pair of eyes staring at him from a distance and he turns ever so slowly to stare back. Snufkin is looking at them with wide eyes, seeming frozen in his spot. 

Little My snickers and ducks under Moomin's motionless arms, starting to saunter off. “Good luck,” she murmurs as she leaves, grinning mischievously. 

Quickly, Moomin straightens, trying to regain his composure, but he still doesn't approach. He’s certain Snufkin does not want to talk to him, but should he try to apologize regardless? With his cover blown, he decides running away isn't an option; that will just make him worse of a friend. With trepidation, he moves closer. 

Snufkin keeps staring at him for a while, his expression unreadable. But when Moomin is just a few steps away, his expression shifts and he turns his eyes back to the water, looking decidedly indignant. 

What is he going to say? Moomin has no idea where to start and the look on Snufkin's face punctuates any courage he has been trying to build. Yet, he has gotten this far… “So, this is where you've been?” What is this, an attempt at small talk? Moomin curls his toes, cringing at his poor choice of conversation. 

Snufkin doesn't say anything at first, his grip on the fishing pole tightening and expression hardening. Then he clears his throat and mutters venomously. “I thought this was what you wanted.”

Oh, how each word feels like a stab wound, his guilty conscience punishing him physically. He swallows with difficulty. “No. Of course not…” Moomin has to look away and picks up his tail to have something to busy his nervous hands with. Moomin wants to apologize, desperately. But it hurts how Snufkin just ran away and now blames him for it. He never wanted this, he has never wanted his friend to leave, ever. Yet, Snufkin always leaves. “But you proved me right, though,” Moomin murmurs sadly, though with a twinge of frustration coming through.

“Your welcome,” Snufkin scoffs sarcastically, voice sounding bitter. 

He really doesn't want to become angry again, yet the heat starts to flare inside and before he can stop himself, Moomin snaps back. “If you really wanted to leave, why didn't you just leave for good?”

Just as the words escape him, he regrets them. He dares a glance at Snufkin, but is surprised to see the intense glare at the water having softened just a bit. Snufkin chews fast at the straw between his lips, being the only indicator to Moomin that, perhaps, Snufkin feels as agitated as he does. 

“Because I didn't want to,” Snufkin mutters and lifts a quivering hand to remove the straw. Noticing his very uncharacteristic state, the guilt wrings Moomin's heart like a dirty cloth. And Snufkin's next words violently tear the cloth into pieces. “Is that what you want me to do?” His voice sounds broken; incredibly small and timid, laced with fear that he might be right.

Moomin's breath hitches and he hates how the answer doesn't just erupt instantly. The answer is clear, though. “No,” he says simply, but with a softness in his tone to indicate he's done fighting. To prove it even further, he steps closer and sits down beside Snufkin, staring sadly at the water below.

They sit in silence for a moment, neither looking at the other, but both contemplating where to start. 

Eventually, Moomin breaks the surface tension. “I'm so, so sorry for everything I said. I didn't mean it, I just- I was so angry an-and… hurting. And, I don't know. I just wanted to talk to you to feel seen, be heard… but it didn't feel like you listened…” Moomin sighs heavily, closing his eyes, afraid his apology won't be received well. 

It takes a while before Snufkin answers, voice timid. “I do care… about how you feel. I don't want to hurt you and I never meant to,” he pauses, drawing a shaky breath. “What you said that day, it really hurt me .”

The pain, guilt and regret Moomin feels in that moment is unbearable. Oh, how he wishes he could rewind, undo, take it all back. He tries to swallow, but a heavy lump sits in his throat. “I only said it because I knew it would…” Moomin admits in a tiny, remorseful voice. The shame makes his entire body curl in on itself. “I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me. I wish I could take it back,” he glances at Snufkin and is stunned when he sees a pair of deep brown eyes stare back at him with an unknown expression. Moomin finds he can't look away. “You're the most important person to me, Snufkin. I think… I just… wanted to be that to you as well.”

Something shifts in Snufkin's eyes, but he remains quiet. His stare feels intense and Moomin eventually has to look away, afraid of what Snufkin will say. He can't read him, he never could, and it rattles him, because he feels like an open book to Snufkin. 

“You are,” Snufkin replies simply, but earnestly. “Why would you think otherwise?”

Moomin whips his head back to Snufkin, the tension in his body lifting slightly. “Because…” he starts, eyes searching Snufkin's, but not finding the reassurance he hoped. He has to look away again. “Because you don't seem to need me at all. Like I need you.” He knows admitting this will color his nose and cheeks pink, but it has to be said. 

Snufkin hums in thought. “Needing someone and caring about someone is not the same,” he says wisely, once again offering his perspective. Then a tiny, private smile adorns his lips, though he hides his eyes beneath the brim of his hat. “And you don't need me.”

“But I do!” Moomin counters. “I'm a mess without you!” 

“No, you just-” Snufkin immediately stops, realizing something mid-sentence and shakes his head gently. “I'm sorry. Now I didn't listen, did I?” Moomin notices how he starts fidgeting with the fishing pole, fingers not really finding rest anywhere, and a vague blush appears on his cheeks. “Can you explain it to me?” Snufkin asks, casting a glance at Moomin. The troll feels his heart flutter at the look; brown eyes peering sincerely at him under the brim of the hat, looking even deeper because of the rosy cheeks. “Why do you need me?” The question colors his cheeks a deeper shade of red and by the heat in Moomin's own face, he's certain he looks similar.

“Oh. Uh… well,” Moomin starts lamely, struggling to find his words and feeling very, very warm all of a sudden. “I guess it's just… I-I like to be around you. Whenever you are not here, I'm sad,” Moomin fidgets desperately with his tail, looking anywhere but at the mumrik. “And I understand you need some time for yourself, I respect that. Truly,” he felt the need to accentuate that, knowing how important it is for his friend. “But I still miss you. I just really enjoy spending time with you. It's not nearly as fun when you are not around,” Moomin finishes, his fidgeting settling down and feeling calmer for finding the right words. However, Snufkin doesn't answer, letting Moomin think, the things he just said settling in his mind and it dawns on him. He titters quietly. “But I guess that isn't the same as needing you…”

Snufkin looks away, but Moomin catches sight of the sad smile on his lips. “See? You don't need me at all,” he murmurs and along with the expression he just saw, Moomin is sure he hears a hint of regret. 

Moomin scoots a little closer and gently bumps his shoulder against Snufkin's. “Well, I needed to talk to you to work that out.”

That earns a genuine smile, although small and Snufkin meets his eyes again. “And I needed to listen. I'm sorry for not listening to you, Moomintroll. I…” he pauses, biting down on his lip. “Perhaps I just… wanted you to feel like you needed me,” he averts his gaze again, looking down into the water. Although he still holds the fishing pole, the activity has long been forgotten. “I want to be helpful, coming up with solutions or problem-solving with you. I want to be someone you can always come to… I worry one day you won't need me anymore and you will move on.”

“I would never do that!” Moomin exclaims instantly, satisfied that he managed an immediate response this time. He turns his body to face Snufkin more and places a reassuring paw on his shoulder, pushing gently to get him to meet his eyes. “You don't just serve some purpose for me, Snufkin. I care about you! You're my best friend,” he says with so much adoration in his voice and brown eyes meet blue. “Like you said, caring and needing is not the same.”

Snufkin's eyes are wide, pupils flickering slightly, as they gaze about Moomin's face, reading him openly, while Moomin struggles to understand his friend's look. 

“I care about you, too. A lot.” 

Moomin feels his face flush again. The purity in Snufkin's tone makes him all fuzzy inside, but he misses the additional layer in the words. 

“Then we agree,” he says, nodding once and flashing a beaming smile. “And I need you around-” he raises a finger and both eyebrows as he adds, “sometimes - to show you that.”

Snufkin smiles earnestly in return, his smile finally reaching his eyes. They both seem content with that agreement and turn their eyes back to the water, Snufkin remembering he was fishing, reeling in the line to cast anew. Moomin watches him do so, while an immense sense of relief settles inside. He hardly recognizes himself from that same morning; so sure he had lost his best friend forever and wallowing in self pity about it. And all it took was a push from a small mymble and a proper apology. Moomin notes, somewhat regretfully, that he owes Little My his thanks. 

After a while of content silence, Moomin thinks it might be time to go home. But he needs to be certain before he goes. “So,” he says as he stands up. “Are you going to come back?”

Snufkin smiles up at him from under the hat. Moomin once again feels a flutter; there is something about that look that sends his insides flying. “Yes,” Snufkin simply answers. 

That answer should be satisfactory, but Moomin struggles to leave still. Maybe it's that look on Snufkin's face, keeping him rooted in place. His hesitation only makes the smile go wider. “But you're welcome to stay for a while. If you want.”

Moomin beams a giddy smile at the invitation and Snufkin chuckles. Then he reels in the line and puts the fishing pole down beside him, before standing up, too. Moomin follows his every move curiously, ready to trail after him wherever he’s about to go, but he doesn’t go anywhere. Instead, he stands before Moomin, smiling that lovely smile still and gazing into his eyes. The attention makes Moomin blush, but he doesn’t look away. He still can’t quite read what the expression means, but it makes him feel warm. 

All of sudden, Snufkin steps forwards and pulls Moomin in for a hug. The initial surprise quickly melts and Moomin wraps his arms around his friend, holding him close. It’s a long hug, warm and intimate; one they don’t share often, which makes it all the more special when they do. 

But then something different happens. Snufkin starts talking. “Moomintroll, I’m sorry for running away and making you sad. I don’t ever intend to abandon you, you know that, right? I always come back,” his voice is slightly muffled, talking into the fur on Moomin’s shoulder, but the troll hears him alright. Although, he hardly believes his ears. Moomin thought they were done apologizing. “I promise. I don’t want you to worry that I won’t.”

Moomin pulls back from the hug, though he can feel Snufkin’s fingers tightening in his fur, not wanting to let go. He grabs the mumrik by the shoulders and stares into his eyes with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “What brought this on?”

Snufkin doesn’t answer at first and Moomin can’t really decipher his expression, but clearly something is bothering him, as he won’t even look Moomin in the eye. Then he grabs the brim of his hat and pulls it down over his face, making it all wonky to cover as much of his face as possible. “I’m sorry,” he mutters in a strange tone and Moomin can see a hint of pink underneath the hat and fingers clutching it.

“It’s quite alright, Snufkin, you don’t need to apologize for anything,” Moomin says reassuringly and his paws rub Snufkin’s shoulder slightly, trying to console him. “I know you will come back, whenever you are ready to, like always, so really, it’s f-” 

He’s cut off when a pair of lips suddenly kiss the tip of his nose. 

Moomin freezes. What is happening? Surely, Snufkin can’t be kissing him. But it registers the moment before it ends. Yes, in fact, Snufkin is kissing his nose. And then he pulls away, his face flushed an entirely new shade of pink, his brown eyes wide, looking equally mesmerized and shocked. Moomin is still holding onto his shoulders, thankfully, or else he might have fallen over. 

“I really care about you, Moomintroll,” Snufkin murmurs in a voice just above a whisper and offers an entirely new smile, which makes Moomin’s knees go weak. It looks like adoration. Maybe even something a bit deeper than that, but Moomin can’t think of it yet. As the words try to settle in Moomin’s brain, all he can offer in return is blabbering, while his face gradually turns beet red. 

“I… Uh. Wha-” he stammers uselessly, blinking profusely. “Wha… what was that for?” he manages to ask feebly. 

Snufkin chuckles heartily and when the fluttering inside Moomin’s stomach returns, he finally realizes what it means. Why had he never thought about how wonderful a sound Snufkin’s laugh was? Or how wonderful Snufkin was in general? Which was a lie, because he had thought about that before, but not in this context. Yet, his heart knew all along, being the cause of how his body had been reacting to Snufkin’s smile, his laugh, his eyes. It makes sense. 

But… does that mean Snufkin feels that way, too? What was it he just said before?

“Now, who’s the one not listening?” Snufkin teases, bringing Moomin back to the present moment. There’s a wide smile across Snufkin’s rosy cheeks and his eyes are playful. He shrugs his shoulders lightly to free them from Moomin’s grasp and goes to pick up his fishing pole, bringing it back to his tent. 

“Wait, hang on-” Moomin starts, shaking his head to himself, slowly kicking into gear. “Say it again,” he asks eagerly, knowing he heard it correct the first time, but wanting desperately to hear it again. Just in case. 

Snufkin looks over his shoulder and grins. “No,” he says through his smile, continuing forwards. 

Moomin starts to follow. “Please, say it again!”

Reaching his tent, Snufkin deposits his fishing pole, stopping only for a second to look at Moomin with that lovely expression, eyes peering from under his hat. Then he continues towards the trail in the forest. “Next time, you need to listen better!” 

The irony is not lost on Moomin, yet he lingers on the first part of that sentence. “Yes, next time, which could be right now!” He catches up to Snufkin and walks beside him, bumping his shoulder playfully. Snufkin laughs and gives him a light shove. 

They walk into the forest side by side, Moomin continuing to beg, until eventually, Snufkin caves and says it again.