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Snufkin accepted the coffee the Joxter offered, cradling his paws around the mug to warm them. Although spring was not far around the corner, the air still carried a vicious bite. The drink and the fire offered only a brief reprieve. The familiar company extended a little more; it wasn’t so unusual for the pair to meet during their travels, but Snufkin having purposefully sought him out was unheard of. He was surprised that Joxter had managed to keep his burning curiosity under wraps for as long as he had.
“I’m afraid I may have done something foolish,” Snufkin admitted when the Joxter finally asked. He regretted his disclosure instantly, especially as his father leaned eagerly forward, a twinkle in his slitted eyes. He thought it was something fun. Something like his Great Melon Crimes, perhaps. Oh, how Snufkin wished it were something so trivial—he’d much prefer to be admitting he was on the run for petty crimes. It would be better than the truth, certainly.
The Joxter was about to be disappointed. Snufkin was disappointed; he’d never thought he’d find himself in this situation. He’d thought himself above such feelings; oh, how naive he’d been.
“Oh ho! The best things are often foolish. Tell me, kit, what did you do?”
Snufkin didn’t want to say it, but he’d come for advice. Joxter had seemed the best creature to ask. The only one who might understand. Snufkin took a deep breath, then mumbled something incoherent.
Joxter, of course, did not hear him. A spider dangling from his nose wouldn’t have. “Beg pardon?”
Clearing his throat, Snufkin dropped his gaze to the crackling fire as he tried again. The words felt like acid on his tongue. “I may have, perhaps, slightly… uh… falleninlove.”
Snufkin had expected Joxter to laugh or tease him. He hadn’t expected his father to level him with a serious look and ask, “How is that foolish?”
“How’s it not?” Snufkin asked with a pout. He twisted away from the suddenly far-too-intense mumrik.
The Joxter nudged him gently, shoulder bumping shoulder, drawing Snufkin’s attention back. His face was oddly serious when he said, “Tell me this. What do you think love is?”
“A trap,” Snufkin answered honestly.
“Oh boy.” Joxter massaged his temple. “Is this because you think you’d have to change to make it work?”
“Of course I would.”
The Joxter cocked an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Because…” Snufkin trailed off. He didn’t have an answer, but he was sure he was right.
Joxter hummed thoughtfully, turning his gaze to the fire. His eyes glowed. Eventually, he said, “Did you know I’m in a very happy relationship with Mymble?”
Snufkin didn’t know that. He had never once seen his parents interact.
“I’d go as far as to say we’re as in love as the day we met.”
“You never see her.” Perhaps Joxter was mistaken? Delusional? Snufkin had seen Mymble a couple of months prior, and she’d not even mentioned him. She’d seemed very content to be alone with her brood—if not slightly overwhelmed by their sheer number.
“I see her enough,” Joxter argued. “It works for us. We’re both very independent, you know. Besides, you see your Moomintroll far more often, so that can’t be the issue.”
“My—what?!” Snufkin stared at the Joxter in mortification.
Joxter snorted. “Honestly, kit, you’re not as discreet as you think. How many stories have you told me about the valley and your Moomintroll?”
His Moomintroll…
Snufkin buried his face in his paws. He could feel the heat radiating from his cheeks. He did talk a lot about Moomintroll now that Joxter mentioned it. It was just that he missed his friend terribly during the winter. Telling stories about him made the distance feel smaller. And isn’t that what one did, anyway? Talk about their loved ones incessantly? How was Snufkin meant to know about his parents when they acted like strangers? He could never—Moomintroll practically lived in his mind. It was insufferable. It was…
Okay, it wasn’t all that bad half the time. The other half, Snufkin sort of wanted to scream. There was so little room for anything else these days, and sometimes, that was overwhelming. How was one meant to focus? Prioritise? Exist?!
Joxter was as observant as ever, which always surprised Snufkin, since Joxter smoked so much catnip that it was often surprising he even knew which plane of existence he was on. “I do think about her,” he said. “A lot.”
“But you don’t feel the need to be with her all the time?” How? Snufkin longed to know because he ached for Moomintroll. It was really rather inconvenient, especially for a creature who valued alone time above all else. The two contradictory feelings were tugging him violently, splitting him at the seams. He was close to bursting.
“I did,” the Joxter hummed, taking a puff from his pipe. He offered it to Snufkin, who accepted it gratefully. Maybe the catnip was responsible for Joxter not going insane with love?
“What changed?”
“Relationships evolve. They’re all very exciting at the beginning, but that doesn’t last forever. If it did, Mymble would surely have buried me ten feet under by now. I stepped on her toes something wicked in the early days.” He grinned like a shark, his fangs glistening in the firelight. He seemed quite proud to have been such an annoyance—knowing the Joxter, he probably was.
Snufkin drew on the pipe again before returning it to the Joxter. He exhaled a contemplative smoke ring, watching in silence as it wisped away. “So, you’re saying it won’t consume me?” he asked at last.
“Oh, it will,” the Joxter said, “and you’ll enjoy every minute of it.”
“But it’ll fade?”
Snufkin hoped it would fade. Even if it was enjoyable, he didn’t want to be consumed. Not by love, not by anything, not even by Moomintroll. How could he continue to enjoy the world if his world became so small? How could he continue to be himself? He loved Moomintroll, yes, but he longed for so much more. Snufkin yearned for the world, for adventure, for solitude.
He feared being trapped more than anything. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told the Joxter he'd thought that's what love was. He just hadn’t expected the Joxter to argue against it. And Snufkin certainly hadn’t expected to start believing him.
The Joxter shook his head. He wore a silly little grin, and Snufkin suspected he was thinking about Mymble. “It’ll shift,” he corrected. “You’ll still feel it, but it won’t be so powerful. You’ll both fall into a routine that works for you. In Mymble’s and my case, it’s sporadic but heated visits whenever my legs will the journey her way.”
“Gross,” Snufkin grumbled. He could have done without the ‘heated’ part. Joxter just laughed, reaching over to flick Snufkin’s hat.
“You’ll understand soon enough. Nothing better than love, kit. Not even a good nap. Speaking of.” The Joxter gave a huge yawn. “You staying the night?”
Snufkin shook his head. “I think I’ll start heading towards the valley. I don’t want to miss the first day of spring.”
“Wouldn’t want to keep your Moomintroll waiting,” Joxter teased. “You feel better about everything?”
Snufkin shrugged. “I’m still conflicted,” he admitted. “I can’t say I expected our conversation to go this way."
“What can I say? I’m a romantic,” Joxter said, flashing another grin Snufkin’s way. “You’ll know what to do when you see him. But just so you know, you won’t regret it. I never have.”
Snufkin stood, shouldering his backpack. “Thanks, Joxter.”
“Pish,” Joxter waved him away. “Get out of here. I’ve got very important things to do, you know.” He yawned again. He made no move to enter his tent, instead stretching out lethargically on the now-empty log. He slipped his red hat down over his face, sheltering his eyes from the crackling fire, and started purring contentedly.
Out of habit more than need—Joxter wasn’t paying any attention—Snufkin waved over his shoulder, his thoughts already entirely consumed by Moominvalley and Moomintroll. Joxter hadn’t given the advice he’d expected, but perhaps it was the advice he needed. Snufkin had been shying—more than shying, really; running full speed—away from his feelings, sure they would be his downfall. He’d thought the Joxter would understand, but if anything, his father had made him feel silly for his fears. And maybe he was right—Moomintroll had never asked Snufkin to change before. If he felt the same, then he’d fallen into it knowing what Snufkin was like and not being put off by it.
The fresh look just made Snufkin’s heart swell with even more love for the troll.
His Moomintroll. Snufkin was starting to like the sound of that.
“Be sure to update me next time our paths cross,” Joxter called out before Snufkin could vanish into the trees.
Snufkin didn’t answer. The valley was a few weeks away, and Snufkin didn’t want to miss his favourite day of the year—the first day of spring, when Moomintroll woke up and rushed to greet him on the bridge.
This year, Snufkin hoped their greeting would hold promise for a new adventure. It would be a change, one a little scary to consider, but exciting, too. Exhilarating.
Though his heart raced in fear, Snufkin realised he couldn’t wait to experience every second of it.