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It had been raining all day, starting with a drizzle at dawn and quickly turning into a torrential downpour that showed no sign of letting up.
Moomintroll had spent much of the afternoon staring despondently out of the window at where Snufkin’s tent should have been. His friend had packed up before Moomintroll woke. Maybe the cards had warned him that the valley would flood, or perhaps it was one of those things that Snufkin just knew. Either way, he hadn’t said goodbye. Moomintroll hoped he hadn’t left for the year—autumn was just around the corner, after all. What if Snufkin had taken the rain as his sign to travel south?
“I’m sure the rain will stop by morning, dear. The valley hasn’t flooded in a couple of years now.” Moomintroll just sighed, and after running a motherly paw between his ears, Moominmamma left him to it.
The rain hadn’t eased by the time it grew too dark to see. Dejected, Moomintroll made his way to bed. Mamma could be right; by morning, perhaps the rain would have stopped, filling the valley with the earthy scent of petrichor and squelchy grass that would be fun to stomp in. He was sure Little My would drag him out to make a game of it.
Then again, perhaps Moomintroll’s worst fears would prevail, and he wouldn’t see Snufkin again until spring. Either way, an early night would bring him one step closer to an answer.
Just as he reached a paw to close his curtains, his bedroom lit up. The rumble that followed set his teeth on edge, and Moomintroll felt any fleeting hope vanish. Snufkin was probably long gone. If Moomintroll were very lucky, perhaps he would find a note squirrelled away in the post box once the rain passed.
He hated that he wasn’t hopeful.
The storm was loud. Moomintroll tossed and turned, his turbulent thoughts and the equally chaotic weather making it difficult to drift off. When he eventually fell into an uneasy sleep, the thunder outside mingled with his dreams into a series of bizarre, frenzied and incoherent visions. Because of that, Moomintroll didn’t initially stir at the slamming of his bedroom window, his brain interpreting it as a rumble of thunder. It was only when he sensed another presence moving beside him that Moomintroll flew upright; immediately sure it was Little My or Stinky playing some cruel trick.
It wasn’t either.
Moomintroll blinked away the sleep, his eyes adjusting to the low light to see an unexpected intruder dripping puddles onto his bedroom floor.
“Snufkin! You’re soaked!”
“Nothing gets past you,” Snufkin grumbled. Moomintroll knew he was only being grouchy because he hated being wet.
“I’ll get you a towel.” He was up and out of bed with barely a hiccup (okay, maybe he got tangled in his bedding and tripped a little), tiptoeing down to the bathroom so as not to wake his sleeping family. Some quick thinking had him swing by the Room for Everything as well, where he found some spare clothes that shouldn’t be too big for his friend.
By the time Moomintroll returned, Snufkin had turned on a lamp, revealing just how wet he truly was. His smock was dark and clung to him in a way Moomintroll was unfamiliar with. Rain droplets decorated his hair, trailing streaks down his face. His waterlogged tail hung limply by his side. He looked rather pathetic and very sorry for himself—Moomintroll bit back a smile.
It was, quite frankly, adorable.
“Sorry about the mess,” Snufkin said as he gratefully accepted Moomintroll’s offerings.
“Don’t worry about it. Once you’re done, I’ll use the towel to clean up.” He worried he’d wake Mamma if he tried to fetch the mop—she had especially good hearing for things like that. Moomintroll didn’t think Snufkin would appreciate Moominmamma fussing over him right now, and the last thing Moomintroll wanted to do was scare off Snufkin when it turned out he hadn’t left the valley for winter already.
Turning his back, Moomintroll waited as his friend dried himself off and dressed. His clothes, heavy with water, thudded on the floorboards, and Moomintroll busied his mind with wondering how best to dry them, so he didn’t think about Snufkin instead.
“Okay,” Snufkin said once he was done.
The clothes were oversized—Moomintroll didn’t know where they’d acquired them, but they certainly weren’t meant for a small mumrik. Snufkin had rolled up the legs and sleeves, and the overall effect was… well, it was very cute. For a moment, Moomintroll fought the urge to say as much.
Instead, he said, “Give me your clothes. I’ll wring them out and leave them hanging above the bathtub.”
“I’ll help.” Together, they tiptoed to the bathroom, leaving a damp trail behind them. They giggled quietly at the sheer volume of water squeezed from Snufkin’s clothes.
“I’m surprised you managed to move at all. They were so heavy, and you’re so tiny,” Moomintroll teased as they strung the still-dripping garments to dry. Moominmamma would be sure to find them and wash them (maybe even take a needle to some of the tears) before Snufkin had a chance to reclaim them, but Moomintroll didn’t warn him. Snufkin didn’t like being a bother or accepting help—if he knew that was possible, he’d probably take his wet clothes and run.
Moomintroll wouldn’t have that.
“I wouldn’t say I’m tiny,” Snufkin scoffed, his lips forming into a pout.
“You’re no Little My, that’s true enough, but—” Moomintroll waved a paw between them, highlighting their difference in size.
“Not all of us can be so lovely and rotund, Moomintroll.”
Moomintroll blushed at the compliment. Snufkin thought him lovely? And, to a moomin, rotund was also excellent praise, so Moomintroll was feeling extra flustered. At his visible reaction, Snufkin seemed to register his words. The mumrik looked away, his cheeks growing rosy. He cleared his throat but didn’t take back the compliment.
A beat of silence passed between them, neither sure what to say. Aside from the storm outside, the only sound was the steady drip from Snufkin’s clothes.
“We should probably go back to my room before we wake everyone,” Moomintroll said eventually, still glowing from Snufkin’s words. His friend followed him silently. They sat side by side on his bed, listening to the rain pelt the roof.
“I thought you’d left,” Moomintroll admitted eventually. He’d never been so glad to be wrong.
“I took shelter in the forest, but the rain was so heavy that it wasn’t much help.”
“Didn’t want to head for higher ground?”
“I considered it, but I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”
Oh. And there had been Moomintroll, thinking the worst of him. Snufkin wouldn’t just abandon him like that. Maybe once, but not anymore. In his chest, Moomintroll’s heart raced. The moment felt important, more important than any moment between them had ever been before. “Snufkin—”
At the same time, Snufkin said, “Moomintroll—”
Flushed, they both cut off. They’d locked eyes so many times, but never before had it felt so charged, as if electricity fizzed between them.
“You go ahead,” Snufkin said eventually, looking away. He was so very pink. Moomintroll wanted to reach out and feel the heat beneath his skin.
“No, you.” Moomintroll couldn’t remember what he’d been about to say anyway. His brain seemed to have short-circuited. Snufkin’s hair was still wet—Moomintroll was fixated on how it framed his face. He couldn’t think about much else. Well, that and Snufkin’s blush. He was still desperate to touch it. Or maybe he just wanted to touch Snufkin in general.
“Ah, well—” Snufkin seemed equally at a loss for what to say.
They were going to get nowhere fast at this rate, and Moomintroll was sure they were heading somewhere. He took a deep breath and reached for Snufkin’s paw. It wasn’t his face, but it was a pretty good (and much safer) alternative. The mumrik stiffened beside him, but when Moomintroll went to pull away, worried he’d messed up, Snufkin gripped his fingers, anchoring him in place. For a moment, they basked in the simple touch, neither making eye contact nor speaking, though Snufkin’s thumb brushed lightly against the fur on Moomintroll’s knuckles, sending pleasant shivers down his spine.
Far in the distance, a low rumble of thunder sounded. The storm was moving on. Moomintroll hoped that whatever was happening between them wouldn’t follow it.
“Will you head south soon?”
“Soon,” Snufkin agreed.
“Not yet, though, right?”
Snufkin chuckled slightly, squeezing Moomintroll’s paw reassuringly. “Not yet,” he agreed.
Moomintroll gave a contented hum. “Good.”
“It’s good, is it?” Snufkin asked, amused. Beneath it, though, there was hope. Fear. Excitement. Moomintroll felt similarly.
“Very.” Moomintroll nodded seriously.
“Good,” Snufkin said softly, squeezing his paw.
Moomintroll hesitated for a moment, but he felt braver than before. Besides, if paw-holding was okay, perhaps this would be too. He used his free paw to reach up and cup Snufkin’s face. His blush had subsided, but he still felt warm. To Moomintroll’s relief, Snufkin leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut.
Moomintroll wondered whether he should be just a little braver.
His heart hammered, leaving him almost faint as he pushed forward, breath held. Snufkin’s eyes were closed, but he could definitely sense Moomintroll’s approach. When Snufkin didn’t pull away, Moomintroll brushed their noses together in a gentle moomin kiss. It wasn’t like kissing another moomin—Snufkin’s nose was too small for that. Different didn’t make it worse, though. If anything, it was better. Oh, so much better. All Moomintroll’s nerve endings lit up, sparks bursting across his skin like tiny fireworks. He pulled away, dazed, and all he could do was stare at Snufkin.
Perfect Snufkin.
The smallest of smiles crept onto Snufkin’s face, and after a moment’s delay, he opened his eyes again. He said nothing about the kiss, so Moomintroll didn’t either. As they lay down to sleep, Snufkin snuggled up against him, sighing contentedly as Moomintroll’s arm draped around him. Moomintroll felt Snufkin’s light purring reverberate through his chest.
Falling asleep like that was easy.
When they woke in the morning, the rain had stopped. Snufkin’s clothes were clean, dry and neatly folded on the desk, and Snufkin was still in Moomintroll’s arms, where Moomintroll hoped to keep him forever.