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The sun was setting under the hills north of Moominvalley, casting a golden hue on the green blades and multicolored flowers. Singing and laughter could be heard within the boisterous chatter of the party in front of the Moomin’s house. While most danced the evening away outside, some stood by the tables with Moominmama filled with mouth-watering heart-shaped pastries, and some preferred to relax in the calm of the interior of the house, gently lit by candles and guests being entertained (or bored to death) by Moominpapa’s endless stories.
While visitors come from far and wide to attend Moominmama’s parties, from The Mymble herself to even Too-Ticky, one Moomin that was expected by all to be among the crowd hadn’t been seen by any.
At least, nobody from the event had seen him. Because, in truth, there were two people missing that night, and they sat right beside each other next to the crystal stream by the bridge.
Snufkin had his hat pointedly covering most of his face, legs crossed and staring down at his bobber in the water.
“--And then we finally had enough to buy her the necklace, and oh, Snufkin, if only you could see the look on her face! She looked as if she had seen a ghost. Or, maybe as if the ghost was proposing to her,” Moomin giggled. Snufkin didn’t respond, but such was common in their conversations, and Moomin just continued on.
After a long spiel about being lectured by Mrs. Fillyjonk for inviting her children to a game of tag (someone inevitably ended up falling face-first into the mud, but Moomin stayed firm that the mud would do them some good considering how they are hardly ever outside in the first place), the stream of the water and the soft sound of far-away music eventually filled the silence instead.
The sun had finally set. Snufkin hadn’t said anything for the entire time they had been sitting there, save for a brisk rejection to joining the festivities with Moomin and the rest of their friends. ‘Sorry, I really am, but the fish are very lively right now. It’d be a shame to pass this up,’ he had declined, smiling at the group and picking up his fishing bucket again. There were sounds of disappointed understanding, and unrelated chit-chat fading into the distance. When he looked back up, Moomin had been the only one remaining.
He waited for him to say something, staring at the way Moomin’s fur reflected in the sun like the snow he’s seen on his adventures.
‘Well, I could come with you, instead.' Snufkin chuckled at the way Moomin twiddled his thumbs, but his eyes had turned sad, then. He looked like he was going to say no, and Moomin braced himself to be turned down, ears flattening and squeezing his eyes shut.
‘If you wish.’
Moomin peeked an eye open, wondering if his mind had possibly deceived him into hearing what he wanted to hear--it was so soft that it wouldn’t have been a reach to assume. But all he saw was Snufkin walking away, fishing pole in one hand and bucket in the other. Moomin had resolved to follow him anyway, as he always does.
But Snufkin never spoke after that.
And he definitely wasn’t speaking now, Moomin noted with a huff of concern.
“Hey, Snufkin?”
No reply, again. He decided resolutely that he wouldn’t continue until he spo–
A nod in his direction caused him to throw his original plans out the window and ask anyway. “Are you okay?”
That did catch Snufkin’s attention, at long last facing Moomin instead of the quiet river that he was honestly starting to grow jealous of. He raised an eyebrow.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well…” Moomin averted his gaze, just for a moment. “You said you were going to fish instead of going to Moominmama’s party, but there’s no fish.”
“I’m no psychic, Moomin. I didn’t know there wouldn’t be any.”
“Of course, but you said that they were lively.” He turned his head to the pointedly empty stream.
Snufkin followed his eyes, and hesitated. “Maybe they were, earlier.”
Moomin thought that an odd answer. “Maybe, but were they?”
“I thought so. I heard them from my tent when I woke up,” he lamented, face defeated. Moomin felt slightly guilty for interrogating him up until now. “Anyway, I hardly think my frustration at the fish is enough to warrant this. Why do you assume I’m lying?”
Moomin waited for the regret to hit him full-force, but it never did. He still felt as though there was something missing, and it was his job as Snufkin’s best friend to figure out what it was.
“I didn’t think you were lying,” he mumbled. “Well, only a little. But you haven’t been speaking at all today! It’s okay that you don’t want to go to Moominmama’s party, you know. I’m not mad, and neither is she, it’s only that it’s very rare for it not to be snowing right now, and to have you back so early–”
Snufkin smiled. “I know. I’m not worried about that.”
“Then what are you worried about? Were there people at the party you don’t like?” He leaned closer to Snufkin, fully turning to face him now, and tail twitching in anticipation.
“Who says I’m worried about something?” he leaned away in turn, glancing at Moomin from the side of his eyes. “I just wanted to fish, really, I promise,” He concluded, obviously not planning to elaborate, but sighed when Moomin didn’t relent. “Even if there were some less-than-savory people attending.”
Moomin’s expectant face fell flat, and he squinted accusingly. He didn’t buy for a second that he wasn’t upset, but decided to let it go, for once. If he was truly troubled, then the last thing Moomin wanted to do was make it worse.
He got back into his comfortable crisscross position, leaning back on the hill behind them. “Okay, if you say so.”
They went on in silence for a while longer. Snufkin never reeled back his fishing line, despite the fact that it was obvious to even Moomin that no fish were going to be biting tonight.
“You should probably get back to Snorkmaiden. The party will be ending soon.”
Moomin jolted out of his sleepy state at the sudden declaration. Snufkin huffed a laugh.
“What?” Moomin balked. “Why would I go to Snorkmaiden? Or the party? I chose to be here.”
“You haven’t even greeted any of the guests yet.”
“I greeted the ones that showed up early!”
“But–”
“Do you want me to leave? If that’s all, then I will.” Moomin winced. He really hoped it wasn’t the case, but he didn’t want to be where he wasn’t wanted. He wouldn’t take it personally–he knew Snufkin liked his space.
“It isn’t that.” He frowned. Moomin didn’t look convinced. “Trust me, it’s not! I don’t mind you sitting here.” He finally started to reel in his fishing pole, visibly putting together his next words in his head, and starting slowly. “But, don’t you think that people will get ideas? They’re starting to leave, now, and will be coming this way to go back home.”
Out of anything, Moomin expected that the least. He didn’t actually know what to make of it at all. “Ideas? Of what?” Snufkin looked at him with a startling amount of irritation.
“Well, it’s Valentine's Day, Moomin. And you haven’t been at the party.”
His mind screeched to a stop. “It’s– Yes, but– You don’t think that they’d think–”
“I do.”
“But, we aren’t even doing anything! I’m just sitting by you.”
“Perhaps, but isn’t that what couples usually do on Valentine’s Day?”
“That’s silly, though! If I were sitting by Moominmama instead, would they guess the same thing?”
Snufkin shook his head. “That’s different.”
“Different how ? And– I don’t want them to think that with Snorkmaiden, either!” He yelled defensively. Snufkin ducked his head, probably on edge from the volume of his voice. Moomin tried to soothe himself. “I don’t want them to think that, and I don’t think that they do.”
Snufkin grabbed his hat and shoved it down farther into his face. “But, aren’t you?” he questioned, no malice in his tone.
“What?”
“You and Snorkmaiden.”
“Am I– No!” He was probably louder than he was before, immediately forgetting his earlier resolution. “Gee, Snufkin. Maybe you think they’d think because you think.”
Snufkin chuckled again, his smile now reaching the eyes that were watching Moomin. “I can barely understand you anymore. And are you sure you aren’t? Because everyone else seems to think so.”
“What do you mean everyone thinks so? Why is everyone always thinking things!” He flopped back onto the grass, short limbs extended. “I don’t know why they do, but we’re not. Probably not. I wasn’t told, if so.”
“You ought to tell her, then. I don’t think she knows.” Snufkin grabbed the bucket while talking, but didn’t do anything with it.
“That we aren’t a couple? But…” Moomin stopped and shot straight up. “Oh!” he exclaimed, suddenly feeling incredibly embarrassed. “Is that why she keeps talking about how many children she wants all the time?”
“That’d be it, yes.”
“And talks about marriage…”
“Indeed.”
“And–”
“All of that, and more,” Snufkin laughed.
“Oh. I suppose you’re right, then.”
Snufkin laid down, similarly to how Moomin was before, but he covered his face with his hat as he did when he relaxed during the day due to the sun. Moomin blinked at him and leaned over to take his hat.
“It isn’t daytime.”
“I can see that,” he said, as if Moomin were the stupid one.
“Well, don’t cover your face then,” he said, arms crossed.
“Why not?”
“Because you don’t need to!”
Snufkin conceded and resorted to just closing his eyes. Moomin placed Snufkin's hat to the side opposite of Snufkin.
The lights from the party were all but gone. Only the faint glow of the lights of Moominhouse illuminated the valley from afar.
“I should probably go home now.”
Snufkin hummed, not opening his eyes.
Someone passed them, then, shoes clacking against the wooden boards of the bridge. They waved at Moomin and Snufkin as they passed, the former waving back politely.
And Moomin didn’t feel anxious at all. He only smiled jovially at a realization, turning to his best friend.
“You know, Snufkin, I don’t think I’d really mind. If they did think about us. I’d mind with Snorkmaiden, but not you.”
Snufkin’s eyebrows scrunching were the only tell that he had heard Moomin at all.
He thought he should probably feel abashed from saying that, especially considering he didn’t get a response, but he didn’t. And, honestly, he had guessed that Snufkin wouldn’t have replied, anyway. He was about to make his move to leave, but Snufkin started talking before he could get up.
“I don’t… I wouldn’t either. It was more for you, earlier.” He kept his eyes closed, and face impassive. The sun had set too far to tell for certain, but he could have sworn Snufkin’s face got darker in color in those passing moments.
Moomin felt positively elated. He didn’t understand Valentine’s Day too much, but if this was what it was about, then maybe it was his favorite holiday now.
He beamed under his snout. “I’ll have to get you chocolates next time, then!”
The silence following the secretly only half-joke was dense. For a second he thought he pushed his luck, but Snufkin finally opened his eyes and regarded him with a small, knowing grin. “You can just give me some of the countless candies you get from the others. No need to be wasteful.”
“None of them are ever dark chocolate, though,” he feigned sorrow as he stood up. “You’d probably only like dark chocolate.”
“You’d be right. Can I have my hat back before you go?”
“Oh.” He rubbed his neck, passing the hat back. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Tell Moominmama and Papa I said Happy Valentine’s Day,” he waved him off, sitting up to refix the hat back onto his head.
“Alright, I will! And Happy Valentine’s Day to you, too, Snufkin!” he hollered as he ran off to the house.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Snufkin uttered back, smile fading and looking down to the stream once again as if it had personally betrayed him.
And when he looked back up, the lights of Moominhouse had all been switched off, leaving everything in darkness, including Snufkin.