Work Text:
“My... this certainly puts a damper on things.”
Moomintroll, knees drawn up to his chest, watched as Snufkin stuck his hand outside the cavern and held his hand up to the rain, tsking as raindrops pelted his fingers and open palm. The air was filled with the scent of rain and wet grass and rocks, and the sound of the rainstorm's steady pitter patter and Moomintroll and Snufkin's heavy breathing as they caught their breaths, both of their chests still heaving from suddenly having to run for shelter. It was late autumn, but the chill of the upcoming winter season was already beginning to set in the air—the wind howled furiously beyond the cavern walls, sending the rain this way and that and a jolt of cold up Moomintroll's spine.
“I think we better stay here for the time being, Moomintroll.” Snufkin announced, shaking his hand dry as he stepped further back into the cave. “It doesn't seem like it's going to stop anytime soon, and between the heaviness of the rain and the wind, the visibility is terribly poor. I can barely see a foot in front of me.”
Moomintroll was some distance away from him, but even from where he was sitting, he could see what Snufkin meant. It was as if they had taken shelter behind a wall of rain or a fall of water.
“I guess winter is certainly in the air, isn't it?” Snufkin let out a breathless chuckle, rubbing his hands up and down his damp arms to try and warm himself up. “I'm chilled to the bone!”
Moomintroll had mixed feelings when it came to winter. At first, he hated it. Hated the cold. Hated the snow, which seemed so foreign to him—it was white like him, and seemed soft and fluffy upon first glance, but became hard and unpleasant when packed tight, and chilled his paws to the bone.
But there were some parts of winter that he had come to love. He loved hibernating, sleeping the months away in his nice, warm bed. He loved the rare moments, sleepy as they were, where he would wake for random hours on end, allowing himself to explore a mostly silent Moominvalley while the rest of the world seemingly slept. He loved walking to the beach, the sand cold beneath his feet, and visiting Too-Ticky, watching her as she'd ice fish.
There were even some things about snow that Moomintroll had come to love, too. He loved waking in midwinter to Moominvalley still covered in a blanket of snow, the hills and valleys curved and round, plump-looking and white just like him. He loved making snow Moomins, both three dimensional and on the ground, and packing snow into balls to toss at Snorkmaiden and Little My. And when it got too cold to play outside, and the familiar sleepiness of hibernation began to call to him once more, he loved returning to Moominhouse and curling up in his favorite chair, rocking back and forth, back and forth, nestled in the warmth of his favorite blanket warming his lap and a mug of his favorite tea warming his hands as sleep began to tug on his eyelids. And when Moominmamma would take his empty mug away from him before it could fall out of his hands as he dozed off and send him back to bed with a kiss on the top of his head, he loved remembering the weight and warmth of his quilt as he crawled back into bed, sleep once again taking him into an extended slumber.
But despite coming to love some aspects of winter, Moomintroll inevitably always found himself growing sadder and sadder the closer and closer the season came, because that meant Snufkin would leave Moominvalley for the season.
He understood, of course. He knew Snufkin had the heart of a wanderer, that he yearned for the call of new sights and new adventures, a call that rang as loud as one of the many beautiful tunes he played on his harmonica. And even if Moomintroll didn't understand that, he understood one thing: Snufkin hated winter. So even if Snufkin didn't have the heart of a wanderer, he would always have the heart of someone who hated the cold.
But that didn't stop Moomintroll from missing Snufkin during the months when they were apart, didn't stop him from thinking about Snufkin whenever he would wake up from hibernation. Moomintroll would look out the window of his bedroom, a frozen Moominvalley awaiting him past the snow-covered glass, and would soon find himself thinking of Snufkin, because the silent, sleepiness of Mooninvalley in winter was perfect for getting lost in one's thoughts, and Moomintroll knew how much Snufkin loved his silence, his time to think.
Once, Moomintroll tried to foolishly, selfishly, convince Snufkin to stay during the winter, claiming that there was a whole side of Moominvalley Snufkin never saw, “And wouldn't that be nice? To see every single side that a place has to offer?”
But Snufkin just laughed, claiming that it was that very mystery and intrigue that made Moominvalley grow all the fonder in his heart. “And besides, what if I grew bored of Moominvalley?” Snufkin teased, not really hoping for an answer as he cast his fishing line, the bobber hitting the river water with a satisfying plop. “That wouldn't do—I couldn't risk it.”
“Besides, you sleep for most of the winter, Moomintroll!” Snufkin added with a laugh as Moomintroll watched him fish. “Even if I did stay in Moominvalley, we wouldn't likely see each other, anyway. You'd be fast asleep.”
Moomintroll's normally white face dusted red, blushing in embarassment when Snufkin so quickly and casually turned his proposal down. Moomintroll knew Snufkin better than anyone—he knew that was likely how Snufkin was going to respond—but he still felt shameful for foolishly, even for but one fleeting moment, thinking otherwise.
Moomintroll wanted to say that if Snufkin stayed in Moominvalley during the winter, he'd fight off sleep for as long as he could. He'd hide the urge to hibernate away, shove it away in the same closet where he stored his winter bedding. Because if Snufkin was around, Moomintroll wouldn't want to sleep. He'd want to spend, as he always did, as much time with Snufkin as possible.
But he couldn't bring himself to say it, already too mortified from Snufkin turning him down. And as much as the words tingled the tip of his tongue, he couldn't bring himself to ask Snufkin if he could go with him, either; unsure if he would be able to handle two rejections one after the other.
He very likely knew what Snufkin would say, too.
I'd love to have you join me Moomintroll, I really would. But I need my time alone.
Because if Snufkin was anything, he was undeniably, unapologetically himself, which meant he needed time to himself, away from people, even away from Moomintroll. And although Moomintroll knew that, he knew that if he heard the world aloud from Snufkin's lips, said in his soft, comforting voice, he would, without a doubt, not only cry, but the ache in his heart would be far too great to bear.
So instead, Moomintroll just mumbled a “I suppose you're right,” watching as Snufkin's lure bobbed under the water as he caught a bite, wishing that he had a drink in his hand that he could blow bubbles into, a rim of a mug he could hide behind before Snufkin noticed the look of embarrassment on his face.
Now, it was Snufkin's last full day and evening in Moominvalley for some time. In the morning, he would be leaving—to where, Moomintroll didn't know (quite often, not even Snufkin knew where his next adventure was going to take him), but he knew the hours he had with Snufkin before he left for the season were at their last embers.
But instead of going fishing like they had planned, a horrendous downpour had swept across Moominvalley. So strong were the rain and winds that Snufkin's tent nearly uprooted clear off the ground, which was how the two now found themselves in a cavern, taking shelter from the storm.
Moomintroll let out a soft hum in agreement, watching as Snufkin wrung rainwater out of his signature hat, his eyes first on the messy brown locks of Snufkin's hair, then on his slender fingers as he twist and squeezed at the fabric. Snufkin would sometimes decorate his hat with wildflowers that were in season, changing the flowers now and then as they went on adventures across Moominvalley. But the wind and rain had ripped the flowers away from Snufkin's hat, leaving one lone damp, thinning feather.
When there was no more water left in the hat, Snufkin hung it up to dry using one of the cavern rocks as a makeshift hook and shook the water from his hands once more, wiping the rest on his pants before looking back up at Moomintroll, offering a reassuring smile.
“Well... we may as well get comfortable, shall we?”
They took Snufkin's tent and hung it across the opening of the cave to keep the rain out, the small rays of sunlight peeking out from between the rain clouds dimly lighting the floors of the cave until Snufkin started a fire. Thankfully, he had some wood in his knapsack that hadn't gotten soaked through and fish leftover from his previous catch, so in a matter of moments the two soon had a warm fire to dry their soaked bodies and roasted minnows to fill their bellies. Moomintroll shook whatever extra water droplets he could off his body, his white fur fluffing up slightly as the fire dried him up, and Snufkin's hair, which the rainstorm had deflated, was now back to its signature style of mussed up brown locks sticking out this way and that.
After some time had passed and the rain still wasn't letting up, they decided to spend the night in the cave. Seeing Moomintroll so down at their plans being thwarted, Snufkin, to his credit, did his best to cheer Moomintroll up. They played cards to keep themselves entertained and warmed by the fire, and Snufkin showed Moomintroll how to hold your hands against the fire's glow in such a way it cast shadows against the cave wall, with your hands you could create shapes that told stories. Moomintroll asked Snufkin to tell him a story he never had before, one of one of his adventures, and Moomintroll's eyes sparkled bright as Snufkin did so, his tale coming to life in shadows as Snufkin's fingers danced against the flames of the campfire, the real life Snufkin puppeteering a smaller version of himself made out of shadows.
It was only when the two of them began yawning that they finally decided to try and get some sleep, Snufkin lying down on one side of the campfire, Moomintroll adjacent to him.
While initially warmed by the heat of the fire, the chill from the cavern floor soon seeped into Moomintroll's bones the same way the rain had earlier when he and Snufkin first got caught in the squall. Moomintroll hugged himself tighter as his teeth chattered. Snufkin may have been used to sleeping outdoors or in caves, but Moomintroll was less so. He was used to sleeping against a plush mattress, cocooned by an even more plush quilt, warmed equally by the warm down fabric and by the love Moominmamma added in every stitch. Sure, there were the rare nights where he'd stay so late with Snufkin that rather than travel across Moominvalley in the dark to return to his warm bed in his warm home, he'd instead fall asleep in Snufkin's tent. He would return home after the sun rose the next morning, when the hills and valleys in Moominvalley were aglow and the path home was bathed in the guiding light and warmth from the sun. But those were rare nights indeed, and the tarp of Snufkin's tent was warm against the plush grass by the riverbank, which was very different from the cold, firm floor of the cave where they now lay.
“...Snufkin?” Moomintroll whispered. “Are you still awake?”
“Yes, I am. Is everything all right, Moomintroll?” Snufkin answered in his usual tone of voice, telling Moomintroll that he had not yet interrupted Snufkin from the throes of sleep.
“I...I'm cold...” Moomintroll let out a breath, hoping Snufkin couldn't hear the sound of him shivering. “May I... Is it all right if...?”
Moomintroll regretted asking the question the moment the words travelled past his lips. He knew Snufkin wasn't a particularly affectionate person—yes, he would allow Moomintroll to take his hand, but it was only due to Moomintroll initiating it in the first place. Yes, he would sometimes sleep over in Snufkin's tent, but despite how the two would lay next to each other, it wasn't particularly intimate—Moomintroll would always face the tent wall, Snufkin's bag against his own as he faced the opposite direction.
Now, Moomintroll was certain that Snufkin would reject him—that he would encourage Moomintroll to shift closer to the fire instead—so his heart skipped a beat before swelling in anticipation when he heard the soft patting of Snufkin's fingers against the cave floor, coaxing Moomintroll over.
“Of course, Moomintroll.” The fire's glow illuminated Snufkin, and Moomintroll could make out the faint line of Snufkin's lips curling upward into a smile as he cocked his head back, his brown locks falling over and framing his face. He patted the cave floor behind him again. “Come on over.”
Moomintroll scooted across the cave floor, passing the campfire as he pressed himself closer to Snufkin, curving against the c of his back. Absently, he adjusted his arm so that one was beneath Snufkin's head, the other around his waist, careful, protective. From this position, he was further away from the fire, but he felt warmer than ever.
“Mmm...” Snufkin's back vibrated against Moomintroll's chest as he sighed contently. “Your fur is so warm...It's comfy... Far more comfortable than what I have been using for a pillow.” Snufkin's messy brown hair nuzzled against the fine, short white fur of Moomintroll's arm, and Moomintroll hoped that one of the hairs would fall off there, it, too cozying up against his fur.
“I...I'm glad you're comfortable.” Moomintroll stammered. Snufkin replied with another soft, satisfied hum.
Moomintroll pressed closer still, drawing Snufkin more securely to his chest. It wasn't often that Moomintroll saw Snufkin without his trademark brimmed hat, and he resisted the urge to bury his nose in Snufkin's fluffy, messy brown locks of hair. Instead, he inhaled deeply, hoping Snufkin didn't hear him doing so.
It wasn't often that Moomintroll got close enough to smell Snufkin, but when he did, he was always enchanted by the scent, a perfume of the amalgamation of Snufkin's travels, of Moominvalley and lands beyond. Snufkin smelled of nature and wood, of both sunny and wet grass, of both fresh river water and sea salt. He smelled faintly of the tang of stale sweat, the cleanliness of hot spring water and soap, of burnt campfire embers and the downpour that was just past the fabric of Snufkin's tarp. And lastly, of one final note that Moomintroll could not place, but was very much, undeniably, the scent of Snufkin.
The words Moomintroll wanted to so terribly convey to Snufkin scratched at his tongue once more and he had to fight to keep them at bay, fight to resist the urge to stroke and tug on Snufkin's arm, the urge to turn Snufkin closer toward him, pressing him onto his back. He wanted to know what Snufkin tasted like—was it a metallic tang, like the harmonica he played, a salty fishiness, like the minnows he so loved to catch and roast, or some flavor that Moomintroll couldn't even imagine? The thought alone made Moomintroll's heart race, and in this fantasy world where he did indeed throw caution to the wind and gave way to the longings of his heart, he couldn't help but wonder—would Snufkin's race the same? Would he push Moomintroll away, or encourage him to come closer, their lips continuing to explore each other in ways they never had before? Would Snufkin moan and sigh Moomintroll's name the way Moomintroll would his? Snufkin's voice was always so sweet and calming, but Moomintroll didn't think anything would sound as sweet off Snufkin's lips as his name let out in a breathless sigh would.
Before he could even entertain the thought, Moomintroll picked up the faint sound of Snufkin's rhythmic breathing, his chest rising and falling against Moomintroll's arm as he now lay sound asleep, the sound just barely audible over Moomintroll's racing heart roaring in his ears. Moomintroll squeezed his eyes shut, allowing himself to dream while still being awake of a version of their evening where it was more than just the campfire warming his and Snufkin's bodies, hoping the images would lull him asleep where he could continue to dream.
“Wake up, Moomintroll. We got to get up.”
Moomintroll stirred to the warmth of Snufkin's hand on his arm, shaking him awake. The campfire was down to its last embers, the magic of their evening together in the cave dying with the final waves of warmth from the fire. Snufkin was already dressed and ready to go, his signature brimmed hat now dry and returned to the top of his messy brown locks, his knapsack high on his back. They must have untangled in their sleep. For a moment, Moomintroll cursed himself once for not holding onto Snufkin tighter, and a second time for not waking up when Snufkin untangled himself from him. No wonder Snufkin had no qualms about leaving Moominvalley when Moomintroll couldn't convey just how badly he wished for him to stay. Moomintroll just nodded, masking his upset with a yawn and a stretch as he peeled himself off the cave floor, trying to make himself useful by helping Snufkin pack up whatever was left of their little cave dwelling camp.
The sun had risen bright and early, but evidence of the rainstorm still lay across all of Moominvalley. The tall blades of grass were still wet, the usual light morning dew indistinguishable from yesterday's harsh, torrential downpour. The trees and bushes looked as if they were crying, and the grass along the riverbank was so rain soaked and partially flooded from the river that it was almost marsh-like. The closer the bridge that arched across the river came into view, the further Moomintroll's heart sank into his stomach, already dreading the goodbye that awaited him when he and Snufkin stopped on its planks.
Moomintroll sighed when the squish of wet grass under his foot turned into the smooth, wooden planks of the bridge, the wood groaning beneath his weight, painfully aware of the goodbye that awaited him.
“Well,” Moomintroll let out a breath. “I guess this is—”
“Wait just a moment, Moomintroll.” Snufkin shrugged off his knapsack, swinging it around to his front. “I have something I'd like to give you.”
“Something to give me?” Moomintroll parroted back, taken back.
“That's right.” Snufkin nodded sagely. “A present.”
“A present? For me?” Moomintroll blinked, and could only watch curiously as Snufkin set down his knapsack, rummaging through it. Snufkin was known for only carrying what was necessary, and didn't concern himself with owning frivolous possessions. Moomintroll could count on his stubby white fingers the number of belongings Snufkin would consider essential to his livelihood—the clothes on his back, his hat, his knapsack to carry his few possessions and cooking utensils, his tent, his fishing pole, and last but not least, his harmonica. It wasn't like Snufkin to make a purchase for himself, let alone a gift for someone else. Moomintroll's heart began to pound, and suddenly he felt very, very special.
“Close your eyes,” Snufkin instructed, eyes still down in his knapsack. “And hold out your hand.” He looked up at Moomintroll, his lips curling into a smile. “I'm told that's the customary way one should receive presents.”
Moomintroll couldn't help but smile. “..! Okay!” He closed his eyes and held out his paws as Snufkin instructed, feeling a cold, heavy weight in his hands as Snufkin pressed the present against his palms. Fending off the desire to peek, Moomintroll squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, drumming his fingers against the cold, heavy weight of the present in his hands.
Snufkin's chuckle rumbled low in his throat. “Okay, okay. You can open them now.”
Having received Snufkin's permission, Moomintroll opened his eyes. He blinked a few times, readjusting to the bright sunlight, before his eyes widened at the sight of the present in his hands. It was a heavy, clear glass ball that seemed to be filled with some sort of liquid on top of a pedestal, and inside the ball was a miniature Moomintroll and Snufkin. But instead of being made out of shadows like what Snufkin showed him last night, the miniature versions of themselves were made out of colorfully painted clay, right down to Moomintroll's bright blue eyes and Snufkin's forest green brimmed hat and coat. Moomintroll imagined that the scene inside the ball was not unlike how he and Snufkin were standing now—he and Snufkin standing facing each other on the bridge, the bright blue sky above them and the glistening river and meadows of Moominvalley below and around them—except instead of holding Snufkin's present in his hands, the miniature Moomintroll was holding hands with the miniature Snufkin, their miniature hands forever clasped in hardened clay. There was even a teeny Moominhouse in the background, a perfectly scaled down model in every way, right down to its iconic red shingles, the rope ladder hanging down from Moomintroll's bedroom window, and the many windows and floors that made Moominhouse so memorably Moominhouse, reminding all guests that theirs was always a place for them to stay should they ever need one.
“H...How did you... where did you...?” Moomintroll started, still staring dumbfoundedly at the gift.
“I came across a small shop during my travels, and the owner only makes these kinds of trinkets. They're called snow globes.” Snufkin explained. “He said he had a photographic memory, and that whenever he travels, he always captures the most beautiful scenes he discovers inside a snow globe. I asked if he could make one of a place described to him, and well...” Snufkin gave a smile with a shrug of his shoulders, and if Moomintroll didn't know any better, he'd almost question if there was a slight pink twinge to Snufkin's cheeks. “...he delivered. I even asked him if he knew what a Moomin looked like, and I described you in as much detail as I could. I think he captured quite the likeness, don't you think?”
“Oh, they're perfect. Just perfect. But why is there water sloshing around inside it?” Moomintroll asked, moving the snow globe back and forth from one hand to the other.
Snufkin grinned. “That's the fun part. Give it a shake, why don't you. But be careful not to drop it.”
Moomintroll nodded in understanding, gripping the snow globe carefully in both hands before giving it a few good shakes. The once green grass of the snow globe burst into the sky and turned into white, and Moomintroll was soon looking at a Moominvalley in winter not unlike the winter that soon awaited them in real life.
And as the snow began to flutter down and settle in the globe, the miniature Moomintroll and miniature Snufkin stayed rooted to the bridge, their hands still held together. Moomintroll smiled wide.
“It's amazing... Beautiful, even.” Moomintroll held the snow globe up to the light to admire it even more. “...? What's the screw-looking thing on the bottom?”
“Oh! I almost forgot. The special surprise.” Snufkin smiled. “Give it a few cranks.”
Moomintroll did as he was told, cranking the knob at the bottom of the snow globe. When it got too tight to twist anymore, he let go, his heart pounding and tears brimming at the corner of his eyes as a music box version of his most favorite song that Snufkin would play for him filled his ears.
“The shop owner also adds music to some of his snow globes, and when I found that out, well...” Snufkin rocked back and forth on his heels. “...I know how much you love that song.” Snufkin's voice fell to almost a whisper, and Moomintroll could only nod in agreement. He really did love that song.
“Now we'll be together all winter long, even if I'm not in Moominvalley.” Snufkin's voice was soft, and took Moomintroll back to last night with their bodies curled up against one another by the fire, Snufkin's voice as soft and warm as the fire's glow. “And if you start to miss me, you can just give the snow globe a shake and the key a turn, and watch the snow fall and listen to the music twinkle, and know I'll be back on the very first day of spring. That's a promise.”
“Snufkin, it's—It's beautiful.” Moomintroll hugged the snow globe close to his chest, not caring about how chilly the glass of the ball or how pokey the pedestal felt against his sternum. “It's my most favorite thing in the whole wide world. I'll cherish it forever and ever and ever and ever and ever.”
“I'm glad you like it so.” Moomintroll didn't need to look at Snufkin to hear the smile in his voice. “Well...” ...or to know that that was Snufkin signaling his time to leave.
“Well...” Moomintroll mimicked, still holding the snow globe gingerly in his hands, but letting his arms fall a bit. “I guess you better be leaving now.”
“Yes, I suppose I should.” Snufkin nodded, securing his knapsack closed and throwing it over his shoulders once more. He paused, his eyes glancing downward.
“...? Snufkin?” Moomintroll tilted his head. It wasn't like Snufkin to dart his eyes away from others, or to look as if he had something on his mind. Snufkin always freely said what was on his mind.
“...Actually, I just remembered.” Snufkin smiled softly, turning his head up. “There's one more thing I'd like to give you, Moomintroll.”
“Oh?” Moomintroll closed his eyes again and was about to turn a palm up to accept this other gift, but before he could do so, he felt the warmth of Snufkin's lips pressing against his own.
For a moment, Moomintroll's mind went back to last night, Snufkin's back to his chest as they lay in front of the fire in the cave, Moomintroll's mind racing as fast as his heart as he tried to fan away his fantasies. He got lost once again in the daydream, of wondering what would happen if he tried to bridge the gap between him and Snufkin and crossover from friends to something more. Without thinking, Moomintroll parted his lips in a moan, and before he could realize what was happening, Snufkin kissed him deeper.
It turned out that Snufkin didn't taste metallic like the harmonica he played, or like the minnows he so loved to catch and roast and salt over an open flame. He didn't even taste like the occasional cat tail stem that Moomintroll would sometimes see Snufkin chewing on. The flavor of Snufkin's lips was indescribable, one that Moomintroll couldn't quite put his paw on, but that he knew, undoubtedly, was the taste of Snufkin.
Had he not opened his eyes to see Snufkin straightening, his lips curled into a soft smile as they parted from Moomintroll's, Moomintroll would have thought he was still sleeping away in the cave, dreaming.
“See you in spring, Moomintroll.”
“See you in spring, Snufkin.”
The two said their goodbyes, but even as Snufkin walked away, Moomintroll stayed rooted to the bridge, waiting to head inside until he could no longer see Snufkin. Moomintroll brought his fingertips to his still tingling lips, staring at Snufkin's back as his silhouette grew smaller and smaller the farther and farther he walked away. Instead of crying at his friend's departure, as he usually did, this time Moomintroll smiled, having a good feeling that the warmth from Snufkin's lips on his would be enough to keep him warm all winter.
And, if he found himself missing Snufkin, which he knew he would, he would shake his new snow globe, knowing that when the last of the snowflakes fell and Snufkin's song fell silent, it would be the first day of spring and Snufkin would be back on the bridge waiting for Moomintroll to wake up from hibernation, just as he promised. When he woke up, Moomintroll would run up to Snufkin as quickly as he could. Perhaps their hands would join as they were in the snow globe, and perhaps their lips would touch again as they just did. Moomintroll smiled at the prospect, and looked forward to hibernating, wishing that such dreams of Snufkin awaited him during his slumber.
When Snufkin had finally disappeared from his view, Moomintroll turned to head inside Moominhouse, his hands heavy with his gift and his heart light with the promise that awaited him at the end of winter.