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It started simply with the absence of comfort. When Snufkin sat up from his sleeping bag with the iridescent rays of the sun, he noticed a slight pressure in the center of his forehead. As he began truly waking up, it seemed that everything felt a little bit off. An ache in the neck, sandpaper in his throat, a stubbornly clogged nose.
He must have been getting a cold. It was likely nothing to worry about, just an inconvenience- Snufkin didn’t usually get sick, but on the rare occasion that he did, he always recovered quickly. What really worried him was the thought of all the attention he would get from the Moomins if they found out. Snufkin had seen how the Moomins reacted when one of their friends got sick. There was medicine, a meal cooked specially for them, fresh sheets on their spare bed, and constant surveillance. It was an incredibly kind thing to do, but to Snufkin it sounded awfully stifling. He needed to be on his own- it was all he knew. He was a Mumrik, which meant being completely independent. His relationships were recreational, that was all.
Sniffling, Snufkin slipped on his boots and shimmied into his coat. He swatted his hair into place and tied up the yellow scarf Moominmama had given to him during his first trip to Moomin Valley. The inside of his tent was always a bit of a mess, but today it looked extraordinarily untidy. Last night’s adventure with Moomin had ended in haste and Snufkin had been eager to get to sleep. A sprawl of fishing lures, tarot cards, bits of parchment, and what little silverware Snufkin owned were tossed about the tent. Perhaps a more ordinary Mumrik would have taken a moment to straighten it out, but Snufkin was anything but ordinary. He enjoyed a bit of a mess. It was, though he’d never admit it, proof he’d stayed somewhere long enough to leave a mark.
As he lifted the canvas door on his tent, Snufkin took a long moment to admire the beauty of the valley. The sun hadn’t yet fully risen and the sky was glowing all shades of pink and purple. The grass and treetops and hills remained in the shadow of the night, crisp and clean and covered in a blanket of dew and hazy, fluffy fog.
His tail flicked through the impossible stillness of the air. It was going to be a lovely day; he wouldn’t let something as simple as a cold stop him. There were so many things to do, and Moomin would be along to keep him company soon enough. They had agreed to venture out together in search of some rare herbs that only grew along the foothills of the Lonely Mountains.
Moominmama had once mentioned needing some for a recipe she wanted to try, and the boys had decided to surprise her.
For now, layed by the riverbank with his hat covering his eyes.
—--------
Birds sang cheerfully as the sun returned color to the valley. About an hour had passed and Snufkin hadn’t moved an inch. His body felt heavy and his bones seemed to ache; it was nice to lay in the morning sun. Snufkin had never been one to pass up a day of lounging around, but today he outright yearned for it. Perhaps he could convince Moomin to stay here and relax instead of traveling all the way to the Lonely Mountains. That being said, it would be very difficult to come up with an excuse. He couldn’t tell Moomin he was sick without worrying him a great amount. No, he didn’t want his friend to worry. They would go to the mountains. He could push through.
“Hey, Snufkin!” A familiar voice echoed over the flatness of the valley and caused Snufkin’s heart to fill with warmth. His heart beat slightly faster. “Are you here, Snufkin-? Oh, there you are!” Moomin slid down the riverbank to sit next to his friend.
“Hi,” Snufkin was glad his hat was still covering his face as he winced; his voice sounded terrible, even though he had purposefully applied several extra layers of his nonchalant attitude.
“Oh Snufkin, you sound terrible! You must be sick, shall I go and get Mama?” Moomin lifted Snufkin’s hat from his face, setting it on the grass next to them.
“No need, it’s just a sore throat,” Snufkin sat up, stubbornly ignoring how the ground spun beneath him as he did so. ”Besides, those herbs aren’t going to collect themselves.”
“Oh Snufkin, do you really feel well enough? It’s quite a long way to the mountains, Mama wouldn't want you to-”
“Don’t worry about me, Moomin,” Snufkin hated to interrupt his friend, but he didn’t want Moomin to think too much about it. “I told you, I’ll be just fine. I’ve traveled far greater distances with much worse than this.”
Snufkin stood, stretching his arms and flicking his tail.
“If you’re really sure, then.” Moomin sounded unsure, but stood up anyway, brushing a piece of grass off of Snufkin’s coat. “But you must tell me if it gets worse, alright?”
“Of course I will,” He lied. “Now, let’s be off.”
—--
Though the summer air was warm, it burned Snufkin’s lungs as the pair of Moomin and Mumrik set a brisk pace toward the mountains. Had he been on his own, the Mumrik would have been constantly clearing his throat to ease the pain. But there was Moomin, and as much as his company was enjoyed, Snufkin was avidly trying to hide his condition. So, he tried his best to ignore the painful itching in his throat. Eventually, though, he would slip up and cough violently into his sleeve.
After a particularly painful coughing fit, Moomin stopped walking.
“Snufkin, are you sure you’re alright? I think we should head back, you aren’t well.” The concern in his voice made Snufkin’s heart jump in a somewhat pleasant way he didn’t understand. He hated the concern, he didn’t need the pity. And yet, something in his chest blossomed at the idea that Moomin cared about him enough to be concerned.
“Come on, Moomin, we’re almost there.” His voice was as rough as gravel. He was sure Moomin could hear the slight rattling in his lungs every time he inhaled. Could he see the way Snufkin swayed every time he took a step, too? He hoped not. “Just a little bit longer and then we’ll head back.”
Moomin said nothing but kept walking.
A few moments later, they arrived at a beautiful clearing dotted with rocks that had fallen down the mountainside over the years. Nameless wildflowers and wild grass had made themselves at home between the stones, covering the hillside in a blanket of verdant herbs.
Moomin jumped triumphantly, looking completely carefree for the first time all day since he had heard Snufkin speak.
“We did it! We did it, Snufkin!” He grabbed his friend’s hands and spun them both around. The immediate dizziness from the sudden movement almost distracted Snufkin enough to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. Almost. Snufkin didn’t think anything was powerful enough to make him forget about his feelings for Moomin.
“Oh- oh I’m so sorry!” Moomin suddenly remembered the state of his friend. “I got over excited.” Moomin hadn’t let go of his hand- Snufkin pretended not to notice.
“Are you alright, Snufkin? You look sort of red.”
“Just fine, Moomin my friend.”
He sniffed once more, cursing his cold for ruining this moment. His throat was itchy and burning as if he had swallowed jagged glass. His head felt light as a cloud but incredibly dense. It felt like he was watching the world through someone else’s eyes instead of really being there- everything felt far away.
“Come on, let’s get these herbs and head back-”
The mumrik suddenly doubled over in a fit of coughing as his throat hit a particularly nasty snag. Everything around him faded and seemed to fall out from under him as the coughing continued.
When he caught his breath, he was on his knees leaning against Moomin, who was patting his back firmly.
“Are you alright, Snufkin?!” Moomin sounded very worried.
“Yes. Well… That’s embarrassing,” Snufkin croaked. “Maybe you were right-”
“Of course I was!” Moomin put Snufkin’s arm around his shoulders and helped the mumrik stand. “We’re going to Moominhouse this instant! Mama will have something to make you feel better, I promise.”
This time Snufkin didn’t resist, though he did let out a groan of complaint.
Moomin supported the majority of Snufkin’s weight as they made their way to Moominhouse. Snufkin let himself be practically carried; he was so dizzy that he would certainly fall over if it wasn't for his friend.
Eventually, the familiar blue house came into view. Moomin rushed Snufkin inside.
“Mama!” Moomin called. He helped Snufkin sit on the couch. “I’ll go get her, don’t move, ok Snufkin?” And with that, he scampered off.
Snufkin closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the couch. His head was spinning; it felt heavy as lead and light as a feather all at once. Very confusing thoughts filled his mind, floating around as heavy as stones but fast as wind. He couldn’t decipher most of them, and decided to give up and let his mind wander.
Moomin and Moominmamma came back into the room, speaking softly to each other about the details of Snufkin’s health.
“Hello,” Snufkin was trying to act natural, but his voice was so hoarse that he immediately regretted speaking.
“Hello, my dear. Oh my, Snufkin, you look quite pale.” Moominmamma said gently, sitting beside him and pressing her hand to his forehead. “I’ll make some of Grandma’s medicine. In the meantime, you should rest. Moomin, would you take him upstairs?”
Snufkin’s instinctual reaction was to protest, but he knew he couldn’t. There was no point in denying it any longer; he felt horrible. His desire to be independent was becoming severely outweighed by his desire to feel better. He allowed Moomin to guide him upstairs.
The room was relatively small, a bed in one corner and a desk in the other. There was a large wooden dresser decorated with dried flowers. The walls were adorned with all sorts of paintings and flowers and trinkets. It smelled of wood, fresh laundry, and lavender. Snufkin had only slept in a real bed a handful of times in his life, yet he could tell just by looking at the plush comforters and pillows that this bed would be more comfortable than most. He sat on the edge of it and began unlacing his boots.
“Hey, um, Snufkin?” Moomin asked hesitantly. “Can I ask you something?”
Snufkin hummed in recognition.
“You know we love having you, so why were you so reluctant to come here?”
Oh.
The truth was bitter yet simple. The thought of being cared for bothered him. He didn’t want to be a burden. He didn’t want to need their help. Independence was in his nature, it was what he needed to survive. What if the Moomins began to see him as needy? Or worse yet, what if he actually became needy? He had never truly been cared for before- he avoided it with everything he had.
He was terrified of getting attached.
Throughout his life, he had no one to take care of him. He knew that if he allowed himself to be dependent, even for a day, it would be dangerous; If he ever got the slightest taste of it, he would forever go on missing it. Or worse yet, he would allow himself to stay- to open up and be dependant. He would grow and thrive and feel so incredibly safe. But winter would come. He could never stay tied down in one place, so what on earth would he do when the time came to say goodbye?
“Well, to be completely honest, I just really wanted to help Moominmamma with those herbs.”
Moomin gasped. “Oh, Snufkin, we forgot to pick any!”
Snufkin nodded, smiling sadly. “My fault, I suppose.”
“Oh well, it’s not a problem,” Moomin reasoned. “I guess we’ll just have to go back once you’re feeling better!” His smile brightened at the promise of a day with Snufkin.
Snufkin faltered, hiding his blushing face with the brim of his hat.
Moomin scooted closer and lifted the hat from his head. They locked eyes- Snufkin froze, he was so close. He often was quiet by choice, but now he was truly speechless.
“I think you might have a fever, your face is all red again.” Before he could move away, Moomin pressed his hand to his forehead.
“I- I think I'm alright.” He stumbled over his words. God, he had it bad. He was in love with his best friend.
“Hmm…” Moomin lowered his hand, cupping Snufkin’s cheek for a brief moment before he pulled away and stood up.
Snufkin thought he’d die with how fast his heart was beating. He flopped down onto his side facing the wall away from Moomin, hands covering his face, wrapping his tail tightly around his legs to suppress the urge to kick his feet with foolish giddiness.
“Are you okay?” Moomin asked at his sudden movement.
“Mmhm.” He mumbled from between his fingers. Moomin smiled, Snufkin was definitely acting strange, but when was he ever not? It was one of the many things he liked about the mumrik.
“I’ll leave you to rest, then.” He closed the door, smiling.
A little while later, Moominmamma came into the room with a bowl of soup, a small bottle of medicine, and a glass of water. The medicine tasted horrible, but Moominmama assured him it would have him feeling much better after a few hours of rest. The soup was rich and flavorful with vegetables grown in the Moomin’s garden.
Moominmamma sat with Snufkin the entire time, keeping him company, making sure he didn’t need anything. Before she left the room, she stroked his hair and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.
“Sleep well, dear.”
Now alone in the guest room in the Moomin’s house, curtains closed, sandwiched between silky sheets and the softest blankets he had ever seen, Snufkin allowed himself to feel his emotions. They rushed in like a flood, filling his chest with an enormous weight. The scene of Moominmamma kissing his forehead repeated again and again in his mind. It was such a small gesture, but it was more powerful enough to shake him. He knew he was safe. He was loved. As long as he was here, nothing would harm him. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t alone.
The ceiling above him started to get blurry and distorted. He blinked and wiped his eyes and oh- oh, he was crying.
It felt good, though. Very good. Perhaps he would get attached. Maybe this was more trouble than it was worth. But right now, he was happy.
And that was enough.