Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“The quiet transition from Autumn to Winter is not a bad time at all. It’s nice to gather everything you possess as close to you as possible, to store up your warmth and your thoughts and burrow into a deep core of safety where you can defend what is your very own, and laugh at the storms and darkness outside.”
-Tove Jansson

The air carried that scent of change. It was a yearly change, one that was silent and so gradual one typically wouldn’t notice it, unless you paid attention. The transition of Winter to Spring was a gentle one, like the frost resolving to dew. There was a faint tickle in the air, a promise of potential and new things.

The seasonal change carried a different air in Moominvalley, these days more than ever.
Snufkin wasn’t sure what called him back to that place, after all these years. How many autumns had it been? Four? Five? Somewhere in that range. It had been a long while indeed, since he spent that year in Moominvalley with so many other folk, waiting for the return of the Moomins. The trees shed their leaves and with them, any hope of the Moomins returning that year. Snufkin wondered how everyone was getting along. Was Ms. Fillyjonk still in that new peace she had acquired? And little Toft, had he found his own happiness?

Snufkin had found what he needed in the valley and so then departed, carrying a beautiful and simple song in his hearts and on his lips. He still remembered it, of course. He remembered all the songs he composed. He had found what he was looking for in the valley.

So why was he going back? Was there still a part of him that was hoping that, perhaps, the Moomins had returned? It would be nice to see Moomintroll again, but after all this time, Snufkin wasn’t sure what was waiting for him. He was quite certain that even if they were back, things would never be the same again. After all, both he and Moomin had grown, they were young adults now. Snufkin appreciated Moominvalley’s lovely ability to stay almost completely the same, year after year. The outside world was always shifting and changing, if Snufkin ever visited a place he had traveled to before, it had often changed so much it was like a whole new experience. Moominvalley however, was its own little world, like a snowglobe.
If it remained the same, but the Moomins weren’t there, then there wouldn’t be any reason to stay for more than a few days. But if they were there, there would surely be too much to catch up on, and things wouldn’t be the same. Even if they weren’t bad changes, they were still...different.

If Snufkin went and saw no Moomins, or if he turned around now, he could preserve Moominvalley as the memory of a place of constants. If he continued forward, he could find something new, but at the risk of his memories of the valley being changed forever. And Snufkin wasn’t quite so sure he wanted those memories to change. There were, as he had come to realize over the years, the most precious of all his memories. The memories that eased his mind back into equilibrium if the balance of loneliness tipped too much one way or the other.

A bird chirped overhead, shaking the mumrik from his thoughts. His eyes had been trained on the ground, on a path of melting snow and blooming snowdrops. It was a familiar path.
He looked up.

Through a gap in the trees, he saw the tall, familiar house, with its cone red roof and its soft blue exterior, dotted with windows. There was no smoke wafting from the chimney, and Snufkin couldn’t see anyone outside. It looked like there really was no one home…

Still, he continued forward, as if something was pushing at his back, urging him.

“Lovely day,” Snufkin commented to the forest as he neared the edge of the valley.

Chapter Text

The house was still stuffy and warm inside, from countless days of having the windows sealed shut. Now, they were being opened to welcome the fresh air of the vernal equinox inside. Moomintroll hummed a tune to himself as he helped his family remove the covers from the furniture. Little My slid down the banister atop a cloth, removing what little dust had accumulated. Even after all this time, including a big move to a lighthouse, they still upheld the tradition of hibernating. After all, it was in their nature as Moomins.

Moomin enjoyed their time in the lighthouse, he had missed the house in the valley, and he was ever so glad they had moved back. Even Pappa admitted he missed the place.

“We could always take another trip, should we get too bored!” he had said.

And so they moved back to Moominvalley, with years of experiences and memories in their hearts. Back to the valley they went, and it was there they discovered much had changed while they were away. Why, Ms. Fillyjonk! She jovially came to greet them upon their return, and she was different than when they last saw her. She was looser, less anxious. She chatted with them happily as they cleaned the layers of dust off every surface.

But Ms. Fillyjonk wasn’t the only change that had come to the valley. There was also…

“Good morning, Moomin.”

Moomin turned at the quiet, sleepy voice that greeted him. Toft was standing there, a bundle of sheets in his arms and his usual shy smile.

“Good morning, Toft. Are all the covers off the dining room furniture?” Moomin asked the boy.

Toft nodded, setting the pile down. “Yes. Help me fold them?”

When the Moomins finally returned home, perhaps it was the small child who stood quietly on the pier, waiting to dock their boat for them. The child had introduced himself as Toft.

Welcome back. We’ve been waiting for you.

The child then smiled, and Moomin had an inkling that this was the first genuine smile this boy had given in a long time. He was a quiet thing, listening to the Moomins talk as they gathered their belongings out of their boat to begin the trek back to Moominhouse. Toft eventually crawled out of his shell as they walked, and so began his tale of that past November. He told of a Fillyjonk bumping heads with a Hemulen, and of dusty cupboards and hiding places for goodbye letters. He told of how he and the Mymble’s Daughter helped everyone else tidy up. He told of a three-hundred year old Ancestor who slept in the old stove, and of parties and puppet shows.

As he talked, it was apparent how much of an impact the Moomins’ absence had on the quaint little valley. Moomin chewed the inside of his lip, then nearly dropped his luggage as Toft talked of the mumrik with a mouth organ.
Snufkin.

Moomin had done quite a bit of growing the past few years, and he was glad of it. He had missed Snufkin dearly when he and his family first departed across the sea, but in time, the throbbing in his heart soothed to a dull ache, then a bittersweet but fond memory. He still missed Snufkin, of course! But it was different this time. It was gentle, promising. Though Snufkin had not been by in a few years, there was next to no doubt in Moomin’s heart that he would see his dear friend again. In fact, he bargained that he would make like his father in his youth and go off on an adventure himself! It sounded so grand, and after the lighthouse, Moomin wanted to see what else was out there. If Snufkin didn’t come by Moominvalley anymore, maybe Moomin would find him out in the world.

He hoped he would find him. An ache was still an ache, and like how Moominvalley wasn’t the same without the Moomins, it wasn’t the same without Snufkin, either.

“...Moomin. Hey, Moomin!”

“Ah! Yes?” Moomin startled slightly and turned to address Toft again. He was looking at Moomin with a half-smile.

“You were spacing out again.”

“Oh...yes, I suppose I was.”

“You do that often these days.”

“I suppose I do.”

“What do you think about?”

“Many things,” Moomin said as he and Toft stretched out another sheet and folded it vertically, then vertically once more.

“Were you thinking about Snufkin, again?”

Moomin cringed. Even after all these years, was it still so obvious? Or was the little Toft just that perceptive? He sighed.

“You caught me. He just hasn’t been here in so long, I often wonder how he’s doing.”

Toft nodded sagely.

“I sometimes wonder, too. But you should be careful not to dwell on it too much, or else you may lose sight of what he was really like, and only remember him from what your imagination makes.”

Moomin’s snout crinkled in amusement at Toft’s sudden spout of wisdom. Despite being so young and small, the child had a knack for offering very deep comments from time to time. He seemed so much older than he looked, that is, until you told him no dessert until he finished cleaning his plate of dinner.

“We’re just about done in here, so how about we go outside to smell some of that fresh spring air? There might be flowers blooming already!” Moomin suggested, setting the pile of now-folded sheets on a chair.

Toft’s face lit up at the suggestion, his eyebrows shooting up into the mess of black, wavy hair swept across his forehead. He ran to the front door before Moomin even had time to take a single step and threw it open. Moomin laughed and followed suit.

Outside, Toft was already crouched by a patch of melting snow. He turned to Moomin and pointed at them eagerly.
“Snowdrops!”

Moomin smiled broadly. You wouldn’t even be able to tell how shy Toft could be, the way he glowed now. How lucky the Moomins were that the boy was part of their family now!

“You know…” the troll said. “A long time ago, Snorkmaiden told me the meaning of snowdrops. They herald the return of loved ones.”

Toft looked up at him, eyes wide. Moomin looked up too, at the bright blue sky.

“Lovely day,” he commented.

He and Toft then both turned their heads in unison. Music? Was that music. They looked.

Someone was at the bridge.

-- --

Snufkin passed the treeline, nearing the bridge that ran over the creek by Moominhouse. Ah, that old bridge...it brought back a lot of memories. His old campsite had been taken over by grass and wildflowers in his absence. It was quite lovely, actually. He looked to the tall blue house. He squinted.
Were the windows open? Curious, he kept walking. Suddenly, the front door swung open, and Snufkin saw a small figure with jet black hair run out and down the steps, crouching near the ground. Someone followed them out.

Snufkin’s heart skipped a beat, his stomach flipped, his eyes widened.
It was Moomintroll. He was back! They were back!
Snufkin began to open his mouth to yell to his best friend, but abruptly snapped it shut. Would Moomin remember him? Would any of them remember him? Five springs had come and gone without him there. They might have moved on. They might have…

Fear made Snufkin take a step back. He shouldn’t have come. Moomin might be angry with him. The mere thought of it twisted its way into Snufkin’s gut like a knife. He gripped at his overcoat as if trying to pull out the handle. He could leave now, but it would make this whole trip be for nothing.

Moomin.

He’d wanted to see him so badly.

Moomin.

Snufkin took a step forward.

Moomin.

He pulled out his harmonica.

Moomin.

He began to play.

Moomin heard a beautiful sound, a familiar sound. A spring tune, light and low, happy and sad at the same time. His eyes widened, he couldn’t believe it. Could he? Snufkin was walking across the bridge, a new song flitting through the air. Snufkin.
Snufkin. Snufkin.
Moomin started at a brisk walk which quickly dissolved into a trot, then a jog, then a full-tilt sprint. He ran, kicking up slush. He ran, rustling the newly grown grass. He ran, faster.

Snufkin.

Snufkin could see Moomintroll barreling towards him. His face held a flurry of emotions, a reflection of Snufkin’s heart. Moomin.

Snufkin began to run too--

He was here, he was really here--

He was across the bridge--

He’d reached the bottom of the hill--

Snufkin pettered to a stop just short of the foot of the hill. He opened his mouth--

Moomin kept going.

“Moo--”

The rest of Moomin’s name and Snufkin’s breath were knocked out of his lungs as Moomin collided with him, wrapping his arms around Snufkin’s middle. Normally the mumrik was not too fond of unexpected hugs, particularly ones as tight as this. But for once, he didn’t really mind. His arms wrapped around Moomin’s neck as the moomintroll spun around in a full circle.

A giggle bubbled in Snufkin’s chest and burst out of his mouth. Moomin laughed too. Ah, what a lovely sound.

Moomin set Snufkin down and looked him up and down. He grinned, and Snufkin’s chest warmed.

“Happy spring, Snufkin!”

Something about Moomin was different. He stood before Snufkin with a different air. Snufkin had yet to determine whether it was good or bad. But for now, it certainly seemed the former. The mumrik smiled back.

“Happy spring, Moomintroll. I suppose we have a great deal to talk about.”

Chapter Text

A light beginning, but a little sadness to round it off. That describes a year in Moominvalley quite well, doesn't it?

---

It may as well have been a spring day like any other five or more years ago. Snufkin and Moomin sat together on the bridge, exchanging many a story. It was just the two of them, and Snufkin preferred it that way for the time being. Not to say he disliked anyone else in the valley, but after not seeing anyone for the past five or six years, it simply would be too much at once. Currently, the two had dissolved in a silence that, for some reason, was more awkward than usual. Moomintroll listened to the babbling of the creek beneath them before he finally spoke.

“I kept your goodbye letter,” he said.

“Ah.”

“I kept all of them, in fact.”

“Ah.”

A memory now floated to the surface for Snufkin, a memory of frantically searching the entire house through and through for Moomin’s goodbye letter to him. But there had been none. None in the letter box, none in the shed, nor in any other hiding places around the Moominhouse. Nothing. And with that memory bubbled up all the emotions Snufkin had felt.
Hurt. Confused. Disappointed. Betrayed.

“I missed yours,” was all Snufkin said, realizing too late how biting the remark sounded.

Moomin was quiet for a long moment, and Snufkin wondered with a pit in his stomach if he had upset the troll. That hadn’t exactly been his intention...had it? Now Snufkin had to wonder if that was what he wanted. A small, small part of him wanted to let Moomintroll know heartbroken he had been over his lack of a letter. But he also would never speak of it. To speak of missing a letter was to speak of an attachment to Moomintroll that he wasn’t sure he wanted. Knowing Moomin, dedicated, sweet, adoring Moomin...no.
No.
Snufkin was a vagabond, a free spirit, through and through. Tied down to nothing and no one--

“Well, you didn’t leave one before we left.”

That snapped Snufkin out of his running thoughts immediately.

“P-Pardon?” he squeaked without meaning to.

Moomin was not looking at him.

“You didn’t leave a letter before we left for the lighthouse. It’s alright to forget writing a letter every now and then, I suppose, but the timing really could not have been worse, haha.”

The lump moved up into Snufkin’s throat and settled there like a shelled chestnut. He knew when Moomin was trying to hide hurt, and this was one such instance. The way his voice was low, it carried barely the faintest hint of a quiver.
And Snufkin caused it. Oh dear.

“I know how selfish I sound.” Moomin leaned back on his hands, gazing at the sky. “To be wrapped up still in something so small and trivial from so long ago. I don’t think it matters now, but…”

Oh boy. There was the “but”.

“I could hear it in your voice, Snufkin. You were upset I didn’t leave a letter, weren’t you? I was disappointed too, back then. I suppose we both hurt each other without meaning to.”

Snufkin swallowed. This was not a position he wanted to be in. Talking about his own feelings was the one subject he avoided like the plague. It was difficult, in a way Snufkin couldn’t describe even to himself.

“I...I.” Snufkin paused, trying to collect his thoughts, the words in his head that were floating about aimlessly. He knew what he wanted to say, but how to say it…

“It’s okay, Snufkin,” Moomin said softly, finally turning to look at him. He wore a gentle smile.
Snufkin’s stomach felt funny.

It’s in the past.”

The mumrik didn’t want to say it. He couldn’t bear to say it. The truth was, he hadn’t left a letter for Moomin that fall because he had been in a hurry to leave. He always wrote letters and they were always the same. What was the harm in skipping it this year, he had thought back then. And so he left with nary a goodbye. If only he had known it would be years before he saw Moomin again. If only he’d known, he wouldn’t have taken it all for granted.

“...Moomintroll, can I confess something?” Snufkin’s hands gripped his overcoat.

“Of course.”

“The truth is, my friend, I...I didn’t write a letter because I didn’t think it was important at the time. I always wrote letters to you, and they were always the same. I thought it didn’t really matter that time if I forgot. I was so absorbed in resuming my travels, I completely disregarded you. And then, I turned around and expected you to have written me a note.”

That was the longest dialogue the vagabond had given probably ever. He forced himself to turn and look his friend in the eye.

“Moomintroll, I am deeply sorry for neglecting to write you a letter that autumn. And for my years of absence since then.”

“Snufkin…” Moomin began to speak, but that was as far as he was able to get before he pettered off into silence once more.

“I realized something, that November,” Snufkin continued. He feared if he stopped talking now that would be the end of it and he’d bottle everything up again. He didn't want to. Not this time.
“Every time I would return in April, I was so certain that you and your family would be here waiting for me. I was never worried that I might come back one day and find you gone. In that security, I grew complacent. It took me a long while to realize, but I realized I had been taking our relationship for granted. And I’m so, so sorry, Moomin…”

Moomin was quiet for another moment. He seemed to be contemplating. The knot in Snufkin’s gut didn’t go away.

“Well, if you’re apologizing, then I may as well, too,” he said.

Snufkin blinked in surprise.

“Back when we were young, I was very clingy. I needed people to feel validated. Every moment you weren’t here was miserable. At the lighthouse, I realized what a stifling burden I had placed on you. I was forcing this form of obligation on you, and that was selfish of me. I shouldn’t have placed you up on a pedestal like that, Snufkin. The more I reflected, the more I saw in hindsight, many an occasion where I ignored your feelings. I tried to be considerate, but I don’t think I tried hard enough sometimes. And for that, I am sorry. You’re very precious to me, Snufkin. And I know how precious your freedom is to you.”

The knot in Snufkin’s stomach turned into a lump and migrated up to his throat, choking him up. On reflex, he pulled the brim of his hat down to hide his rapidly blinking eyes and he fought back a wave of emotion threatening to spill from them.
Good old Moomintroll…

“You are precious to me too, Moomintroll. Being away from you for so long helped remind me of that. I will always need to travel and be free, but I also realized I need to return here every year, to see Moominvalley. To see you,” he confessed. It felt oddly freeing to say that, like some sort of unseen weight he had grown accustomed to had been lifted from his back.

At that, Moomin’s face broke into a smile and Snufkin’s insides melted. That smile, warmer than the sun and softer than any blanket in the Moominhouse. Moomin took Snufkin’s paws in his own.

“Snufkin, I think we should make a promise! A promise that no matter what happens in our own lives, to always make time for each other. And to try to communicate our feelings better.”

“That sounds like a grand idea.”

“Let’s pinky promise then,” Moomin held out his right hand, pinky extended.

Snufkin extended his own pinky, and the two locked them firmly. It was a promise.

The two then sat together for a little while longer, enjoying the sounds of spring and the simple pleasure of existing near each other until they heard Little My shrieking from the house that it was time for lunch.

“Would you fancy joining us?” Moomin offered as he stood up.

“You know, I think this time I would enjoy that very much,” Snufkin said with his usual gentle smile.

The two began to walk towards the house, stomachs rumbling as the scent of whatever delicious food Moominmamma had been cooking wafted on the breeze. Moomin turned back to look at the letterbox.

“I think we need to repaint our mailbox. It’s become quite faded.”

Chapter Text

“Oi.”

Snufkin turned his attention from his fishing to the owner of the familiar voice. He didn’t look up from his seated position; rather, he looked down, at the short mymble staring at him, her arms crossed. She was perhaps the one person who had changed the least. Even her hair was still kept up in its pointy bun atop her head, pulling all strands upwards and allowing her trademark expression, which could only be described as a scowl, to be on full display. It was softer today, though her eyebrows were still furrowed like they almost always were.

“Hello, Little My,” Snufkin greeted his sister.

“Hello yourself,” she snipped back. She didn’t sit down.
So, are you gonna tell any of us why you were gone so long?”

She got straight to the point, in perfect Little My fashion. No beating around the bush, no small talk, no concern for privacy. She was as nosy and blunt as ever.

Snufkin swallowed. Truth be told, anything that would leave his lips now would only be an excuse. There were many reasons why; he was worried the Moomins wouldn’t be back when he returned, he was scared they would never return. He was afraid that Moomin would be angry with him for not leaving a letter before they left for that lonely lighthouse.
But there was one particular reason that rattled more strongly in Snufkin’s chest than the rest. And oh, how he had hated to think about it, how it blocked the way back to Moominvalley and strangled all and any considerations of returning: that the valley would have forgotten him.
Snufkin remains silent for a brief while longer, weighing all the reasons in his head on the world’s most convoluted scale.

He came to the conclusion that he might rather die than tell Little My, of all people.

Unfortunately for the vagabond, the once practiced facade of calm he had perfected around his older sister had grown rusty in the years he was away. He opened his mouth, and closed it again. That was enough to begin the prodding again with renewed vigor.

“Didja get tired of us? Tired of Moomintroll? I know he could be annoyingly clingy a while ago but believe it or not, he’s actually gotten more independent! About time too, I always did say he’d need to learn to stand alone on his own two feet after all--”

“I could ever get so tired of Moomintroll!” Snufkin exclaimed before he could stop himself.

“Then why? Most people don’t just disappear with no reason for five years. Not even you.”

He sighed. “If I tell you, you must keep it to yourself.”

“Fair enough.”

“And you cannot laugh.”

“No promises!” Little My grinned devilishly.

“Little My!!”

“Alright alright!”

Snufkin gave his lip a good chew before speaking.
“I...was worried that I’d been forgotten. I was scared that, after being gone so long, everyone would have moved on from the tramp that used to camp by the river.”

Little My stared at him, eyes wide as saucers, silent for the first time ever Snufkin had seen. Then, her mouth twitched. She let out a snort.

“Pppffft!”

“You said you wouldn’t laugh!” Snufkin protested.

“Hahahahaha! Hahaha! Sorry, it’s just-- that’s what you were so worried about? That’d we’d forget you?! That’s ridiculous, I thought you were more clever than that.”
She placed her hands on her hips.
How could any of us forget you? Forgetting someone like you would be harder than convincing a Hemulen to give up their collection. It’d be impossible, and frankly, I’m insulted by the insinuation of it all!”

Snufkin looked at her like he had never seen anyone or anything quite like her. She sat down next to him, her feet dangling high above the water.

“And how could I forget my little brother, you dummy? Don’t you dare ever worry about us forgetting you ever again, or I’ll bite you!”

Snufkin’s mouth suddenly curved upwards and a soft chuckle escaped. Then a hearty laugh.
He was rewarded with a hard shove from Little My, sending him toppling into the river, but not before he grabbed her and brought her down with him. The two broke the water’s surface, sputtering. Little My scrambled atop her brother’s head, shaking her head and arms and scattering droplets everywhere.

“Snufkin!!” she screeched. “How horrid of you!”
I’m so proud.”

- -

Snufkin had finally dried off for the most part when he saw a shadow obscure the sunlight. Another visitor. He turned his head and this time, looked up. Toft stood there, the sullen expression he would wear back in that November had been replaced by something much softer.

“Hullo, Snufkin,” he said.

“Hullo, Toft.”

“Mind if I sit by you?”

“Not at all.”

The child seated himself next to Snufkin, keeping mind to allow for a reasonable amount of space between them. The two didn’t speak, but instead sat in a comfortable silence. Snufkin smiled to himself as he re-baited his hook. Of all the different folk that had been at the Moominhouse that lonely autumn, Toft was perhaps the one that Snufkin did not mind being around for extended periods of time. Toft back then had been painfully shy and carried an air of grief. A grief only certain kinds of children could have. It was gone now, Snufkin could see, but even though the young Toft was now a teenager, he retained a bit of that shyness, like the last bit of fog being whisked away in the early morning.

“Where did you go after you left Moominvalley?” he suddenly asked.

Snufkin chewed on the end of his pipe as he pondered this question. He had gone many places, traveled further than he ever had, then back again. Five years worth of experiences was a rather hard thing to funnel down into a simple sentence or two. And a simple sentence or two was what Snufkin usually preferred.

“Oh, many places. Here and there, up and down, to the sea and back again,” he said.

“Oh please, tell me about one of the places you went!” Toft pleaded.

Snufkin smiled again under the brim of his hat. He did love storytelling, weaving a tapestry of experiences and happenings and memories for the enthrallment of his listeners.

“Let’s see now… ...Far to the west of Moominvalley, I walked through a forest of pine. There were ferns and moss of so many kinds, it would have sent the Hemulen into an absolute fit of excitement! As I continued onward, I came upon what I thought at first was a mountain. Oh, the size of this mysterious object, it near boggled my mind! As I craned my neck upwards, I soon realized it was not a mountain, but rather the largest rock I had ever seen in my life. But the most striking thing about it was how it so precariously balanced itself atop the rounded stone below it. It looked like the slightest breeze or simplest poke would topple the rock from its perch, but it didn’t. It was truly a wonder to see.”

He turned and looked at Toft, who was staring at him with starstruck eyes wide as saucers. His mouth hung open in a little “o”.

“That sounds amazing, Snufkin! I could have never imagined anything like that existing in the world!” He grinned. “And you know I do have a very vivid imagination.”

Snufkin laughed.
“Indeed you do, Toft.”

“Adventuring sounds fun.”

“It is fun. It’s freeing, being able to travel the world and let the majesty of it all soak into you, shaping you and vanquishing any worries in your heart.”

“You know, sometimes Moomintroll goes on and on about going off on an adventure himself, traveling about, testing his mettle,” Toft said.

Snufkin raised his eyebrows. “Oho, does he now?”

“Oh yes.” Toft nodded seriously. “Whenever he’d get like that, Mamma always says just how much he takes after his father.”

“And what of you, Toft? Do you ever dream of adventure?”

The teen took a minute or two to contemplate this question. When he answered, he sounded very sure of himself.

“Possibly. But I did a fair bit of traveling when I was a youngin, with no family or home to call my own. While that is freeing for you, I myself need that home, I think. I need to be home But who knows? Moomintroll might insist I tag along, and I don’t think I could say no to him, easily.”

Snufkin yanked his fishing pole as he felt a fish chomp at the bait.

“I think I know exactly what you mean.”

- - -

Moomintroll was the last visitor to the bridge. Snufkin had already caught himself dinner which was sitting in his pail when the troll came and seated himself wordlessly next to the mumrik. The sun was starting to dip below the treeline, soon it would be time for dinner for them both.

“Why did you decide to come back, Snufkin?” Moomin asked.

Snufkin thought about this. He’d thought about it a lot.

“I think...that I needed to see if the little valley I love so much was still here. I needed to see if you had returned. I think, my dear Moomintroll, I think I had simply missed you too much. The world is grand, but Moominvalley is the best place of all.”

Moomin smiled and leaned against Snufkin. The latter was surprised to find himself leaning back, so that their shoulders touched. It felt warm, familiar. It felt like home.

“I missed you too.”

Chapter Text

Yeeahhhhh, nobody likes seeing announcements like these, but it's better than just leaving the story to collect dust with no word on why.
Simply put, I've currently lost steam for writing this story, so I need to tuck it into bed for hibernation for a while. I don't know when I'll get back to it, I would like to!
But right now I've got other projects and now school and an imminent study abroad trip to worry about, so After November will have to be put aside for now. If I never do find time to get back to it, I also think it was a nice place to end, spring and summer as usual. Just different!

Thank you all for understanding, and thank you thank you THANK YOU for all the kudos and wonderful comments that brightened my day. I hope you'll all stick around to see my other stories! Much love~ <3

-spicedGumdrops