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Over the years, as Moomin and Snufkin grew, they changed. Snufkin grew more and more fur, up his arms, down his spine, onto his forehead, nose and temples. It happened subtlety, little by little. Moomintroll thought it was quite handsome, but never said it in so many words. Instead he would say things like, “It looks good on you, Snufkin” or “You wear it so nicely” because that was safer than saying “You’re so handsome, Snufkin”.
But that was one matter. Moomin’s biggest change was not so subtle. One spring, when Snufkin arrived in Moominvalley he made a beeline for Moominhouse as usual. He set up his tent as usual. He sat on the bridge and played his harmonica, as usual. But when Moomin came running down the path, Snufkin did a double take, lowering his harmonica. What was most usual about this was Moomin’s size.
Snufkin stood up, waiting for Moomin to reach him, and when he did Snufkin was embraced by his dear friend, only this year, Moomin was noticeably larger. He’d had a growth spurt, it seemed, and Snufkin was engulfed in soft off-white fur. The paws on his back were so familiar, but covered more area. Moomin’s chin rested on top of his head instead of his shoulder. Snufkin felt his face heat up, though he wasn’t exactly sure why. He hugged Moomin back nonetheless, melting into his soft form.
When they pulled apart, Moomin took Snufkin’s paws into his own, and Snufkin stared at them for a moment before meeting Moomin’s eyes. He looked so happy. “Hello, Snufkin, how was your trip?” He asked brightly.
What Snufkin wanted to say was, “It was fine, my love, but I missed you dearly.” What he actually said to his friend was, “It was lovely. And how was your sleep? It seems you’ve grown a good bit.”
Moomin chuckled, suddenly bashful. “Yes, it seems I have.” He lifted Snufkin’s paws, shifting his so that they were palm-to-palm. Moomins were larger and thicker, Snufkin’s thin and dark. Moomin laced their fingers together, unable to resist. They smiled. Snufkin thought maybe this would be the year he would tell Moomin his feelings. Maybe.
They spent the whole day together, walking around the valley, greeting everyone, playing hide and seek with Snorkmaiden, Little My and Sniff. They fished in the stream, and took their catch to Moominhouse to have for supper. But even after a whole day, Moomin wanted more time with Snufkin. He felt rather selfish for it but he hadn’t been alone with him all day, and that’s what he really wanted.
Moomin peeked out his window. There was still a light on in Snufkin’s tent. Unsure he would fit through the window, Moomin crept down the stairs and out of the house, taking his pillow with him.
Moomin stopped outside of Snufkin’s tent. His heart was racing, and not just from the brisk walk down the path. He took a few breaths to calm himself. How silly, getting worked up like that. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t done this a hundred times before. “Snufkin?” He asked tentatively, since there was no door to knock on.
Snufkin stopped shuffling his cards and suddenly felt very bare, and hesitated to answer the call while he weighed his options. He was only in boxer shorts and a thin sleeveless top, the rest of his clothes and his bindings discarded for the evening. He could keep quiet, and Moomin might leave, thinking he fell asleep. He could bundle up under the covers before inviting him in. But he didn’t really want to do either. Moomin hadn’t seen him like this on very many occasions, but he was the one person Snufkin felt entirely comfortable with, even when he wasn’t comfortable with himself. He straightened his deck and took a deep breath. “Come in, Moomin.”
Moomin poked his head in, blushing at what he saw. He would even say this was more of Snufkin than he’d ever seen. “Are- are you sure?” He asked.
Snufkin was blushing as well, but was trying his best to ignore it. “Yes, come in.”
Moomin crawled in the tent, taking up quite a bit of space, and settled down beside Snufkin. They were both silent for a minute, and Snufkin put his cards away, avoiding Moomin’s eyes until he could regain composure.
“Did they tell you anything important?” Moomin asked, breaking the silence.
Snufkin smiled softly. “Nothing I didn’t already know.” He said, and tied up the tent entrance for the night. Moomin supposed he would be staying then. It made him smile.
Snufkin turned back to Moomin, who was mostly lying down, his head propped up on his elbow which rested on his pillow. Moomin took up more of the space than he had in years prior, but there was still plenty of room for Snufkin to comfortably lie down beside him. He almost wished there was less room as he laid down, closer to Moomin than absolutely necessary. “What brings you to my tent?”
“Oh, I wanted to hear about your winter. Did you see any place new?”
They talked well into the night, drifting off during the wee hours of the morning, with Moomin’s large arm draped carefully over Snufkin’s middle, his front to Snufkin’s back, and all was right in the world that night.
Fall came far too quickly, and Snufkin found that opportunities were slipping through his fingers like minnows, as again and again he was unable to say what he needed to say to Moomin. Finally, at the party just before the Moomins would hibernate, Snufkin decided it was now or never. When things began to die down and guests started to go back to their homes to hunker down for the winter, Snufkin took Moomin aside.
"What did you need, Snufkin?" Moomin asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. Snufkin took Moomin's paws in his own, like Moomin had done on the first day of spring. His heart was hammering in his chest, his tail twitched back and forth and his thumbs rubbed Moomin's paws. "I-I wanted to say. To say that. You mean… so much to me. You make Moominvalley feel like home. And I’m so very glad to know you, Moomin.”
Moomin’s eyes went wide at Snufkin’s confession. It wasn’t a confession of love, or perhaps it was, it just wasn’t the type of love confession he’d been hoping for, but it still meant everything to him. Moominvalley feels like home. That was certainly a big deal to someone like Snufkin, who had never considered anywhere home. Moomin knew the gravity of his admission, even though it wasn’t what he had selfishly wished for. He embraced Snufkin, knocking his hat askew. “You mean a lot to me too, Snufkin. I’m very glad to know you as well.” Moomin pulled away to look Snufkin in the eye, suddenly realizing what this felt like. “You aren’t leaving, are you?”
“I am.” Snufkin said, almost sadly.
“But you’ll be back next spring?”
“Of course, my- M-Moomin.” Flustered, Snufkin gently pulled away and righted his hat. “I should get going, then. Sleep well, my friend.” And with a final squeeze of his paw, he went to gather his belongings. There was so much he had to say, and he just couldn’t. He was afraid if he started down that path, he would just disappoint Moomin. He was afraid of not being able to meet expectations that he had made up in his own head. Now or never indeed.
As he tied up his rucksack, a voice startled him out of his thoughts. “You should just be honest with him. He can’t possibly wait forever.” Looking around, Snufkin spotted Little My on a tree branch above him. “But he sure is trying.” She said with a roll of her eyes.
“Are you saying I’m keeping him from being happy?” Snufkin asked, a little indignant.
Little My shrugged. “Maybe so.”
Snufkin sighed in frustration. “You couldn’t understand, Little My. It’s not that simple.” He said as he hefted his bag up on his back.
“It can be.” She argued.
“I’ll see you next spring. Stay out of trouble.” He said with a wave over his shoulder, and then he was gone.