He had heard that love made a person a home. He hoped that wasn't true.

He loved Moomin as a destination, something that didn't quite belong to him and he didn't quite belong to either. He'd hate to be tied down by love. Nothing grows like that. As appealing as the thought might occasionally be, he wasn't a potted plant or skuttering bug; even the loveliest of cages was still a cage. And that was why this whole issue wasn't a problem; he would never be a person to be loved like that, no matter how badly he might want it. That was just the way things were, and he was okay with that. Really. It was fine.

He watched the water ripple, dancing in the slight breeze. Re-casting his line, Snufkin leaned against his knees, drawing idly in the dirt. Lazily, he drew a fish, and then a flower. He drew a nice self portrait, complete with polkadot eyes and stick hands. Moomin was easier to draw, all circles practically. He looked down at his dirt-masterpiece, looked about himself cautiously, and then used his thumb to press a heart into the space above them. He stared at it for another second before becoming embarrassed at being so silly, even if no one was around to see him.

"Snufkin! Snufkin!" As if summoned by his awful art skills, Moomin was barreling down the hill towards him. Jumping as if caught at something, he brushed the image away with the back of his hand before frantically reeling his line back in, pretending that was what he had been doing the entire time.

"Hello, Moomin."

Snufkin knew plenty of songs. Some of them he had learned, a few he had written, others just appeared on the spot. But by far, his favorite song was the way Moomin's name sounded when he said it aloud. It was a perfect name, he thought (he would probably feel just the same no matter what Moomin's name was, so it was fortunate that it was true).

Ever happy, the moomintroll ran in place, almost-dancing in his excitement. "Snufkin! I have something for you! A present!"

That didn't bode well. Snufkin wondered what the present might be, hoped it wasn't anything too difficult. With any luck it would be something he could eat. Nervous, he flicked some stray hair off of his face, wondered if he ought to have tried combing it. He had very little hair compared to almost everyone else, and yet he couldn't even manage the bit he had. Maybe he ought to ask Moomin how he kept his so nice and soft. The answer was probably something obvious like "sleeping indoors."

"A present? What is it?"

"Here- Wait, you have to put down your fishing pole first."

He looked out at the line he had just re-cast. He hadn't actually caught anything yet, and if the present wasn't food, he was going to have to eat something tonight… But Moomin looked so excited, feet still pattering in his little dance that Snufkin couldn't resist. He would do most anything for his friend.

"What is it?" Please be a pancake, he hoped.

"Remember when I was working on something and you asked what it was and I told you you could see it later? I finally finished and it's ready and I hope you like it!" Standing still, Moomin thrust a paper towards him. Ah, writing. Alright. At least it wasn't heavy. Maybe it was a story, or better yet, a plan. He rather liked Moomin's plans.

His hands were still quite dirty from drawing on the ground, so he brushed them off on his pants. Unfortunately, his pants were also rather dirty. He did his best, feeling guilty at the thought of soiling Moomin's nice sheet of paper. Things in his keep didn't tend to stay clean for long; he much prefered using things to preserving them, figuring if he was something useful like a kettle, it's what he would want. Turning the page around to face him, he began to read.

A Poem for Snufkin

Every year when Snufkin returns,

He brings the sun; It brightly burns.

Over the valley and over the brook,

It is a joy just to look.

The moon is jealous of all his sunshine,

He glows the very brightest, dearest friend of mine.

With every road and every mile,

He makes me dance with his happy smile.

He brings the music wherever he goes,

And in my heart, my fondness grows.

And yet each time there's a falling leaf,

He has to go, and it brings me grief.

But wherever he goes, he will come back,

With new songs and stories all packed in his pack.

Because he is Snufkin, you have to know,

He's green like a plant, and he has to grow.

So whether it's now or not for a while,

I can sleep easy with thoughts of his smile.

The world he will travel wherever wind blows,

With his hat and his pipe, and his very good nose.

And once winter has ended and the river has thawed,

I know he'll be back with his good fishing rod.

He has the most beautiful face the world's ever seen.

Framed by his scarf, and his hat, so green.

His hands are just the right size to hold,

And when you stand in his light, you could never get cold.

So whether he is near or still rather far,

He is always my Snufkin, my brightest shining star.

Snufkin had to decide very quickly whether or not he was going to plunge himself into the river. Obviously, it would be the smart thing to do. Underwater, people can't hear you screaming. As he thought it over, he did his best impression of a rock. Rocks didn't have emotions. You couldn't tell what rocks were thinking. Maybe he could find the Hobgoblin, climb inside his hat for a while. He was certain that in his current state, it would undoubtedly turn him into a rock. Or maybe a kettle. He would like that.

"Very lovely, Moomin."

It seemed like a nicely non-committal thing to say as he recuperated from the implosion of his guts, but as his friend's ears dropped, he could feel every part of himself bristle. He had hurt Moomin's feelings. He screamed something in his head he would never dare say aloud.

"Do you… Do you like it?"

Did he like it? Did he like being told his best friend thought of him as the sun itself? Did he like hearing that Moomin, his Moomin, with the soft everything and lovely smile thought he was beautiful? Did he like having written, tangible proof that somehow, Moomin felt just the same way that he did?

He wanted to dance, to shout, to go hide in his tent forever and never come out again. He ought to say something, something lovely and beautiful and poetic in turn-

"Oh yes, very much." Say something romantic! "I've never had anyone write me a love poem before."

Even beneath the fur, Snufkin could see Moomin go red. There it was. He'd ruined it. Best if he just got up and started packing now, seeing as he could never come back here again. Goodbye, Moominvalley. Goodbye.

"No! No, I didn't mean- It's not a love poem!"

Of course it wasn't. Stupid Snufkin. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Just because he endured an average of three pleasant emotions every year didn't mean that everyone else was so strange. No doubt moomins gave each other poems all the time. He couldn't remember hearing about such a thing, but it seemed to be in their very nature to be adoring. "Oh." He paused, planning what he ought to say to best control the damage. "So you don't love me?"

Wrong thing to say. Moomin became even more upset. "Of course I do! You're my best friend! And I love you in a best friend way, but not like- You're very dear to me-"

Snufkin looked over the poem again. He would be the first to admit he wasn't good with feelings, but still. It hardly seemed like the sort of things you'd say to a person you only sort of like.

"So it is a love poem?"

"Yes! Er, No! I mean-" flustered, Moomin looked about, his ears twitching nervously. "It's best friend love. You know. Different."

Snufkin nodded. Of course. Best friend love. He had never heard of it. "No. I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"Just that. I don't quite understand." Obviously this was all a cultural difference. Classic Snufkin, always a stranger wherever he went. Maybe that's what he was feeling, just confusing it for love-love. That would make sense.

"How can you- Never mind, this was all a mistake. Forget it." Still flushed an attractive shade of pink, Moomin reached for the poem. Reflexively, Snufkin pulled it away. Not a chance. Torture or not, he was keeping this forever. It was his now.

"I do not want to forget it. I want you to explain the difference for me."

"The difference?"

"The difference between best friend love and love poem love. Evidently I don't understand it, so I need you to explain."

"But you know!" Moomin threw his hands in the air, exasperated. "It feels different! It feels like- It makes you all nervous. And you want to hold hands and kiss them, your person. And you think about them all the time, and even when they're gone you think about him and how much nicer it would be if you could be with them and give them flowers because you miss them!"

Snufkin nodded. Okay. That sounded exactly how he felt. "And which one is that?"

"Girlfriend love!"

His gut twisted in a resigned sigh. Oh. "And best friend love is…?"

"Different!"

"Different how?"

"Different completely!"

"I…" Snufkin shook his head slowly. "Explain it again." If he could make sense of how Moomin felt, it might be easier. After all, it was better to be small in his heart than not in it at all.

"Okay," Moomin sighed, staring at his open palms. Snufkin wanted to reach out and touch one. "So. When I'm with Snorkmaiden."

"Yes."

"It feels like when we are all going out on an adventure together. Like, when we all go down to the beach after a storm or when we stay up late in Moominhouse drinking coffees together. It's a nice feeling where she listens to me and I listen to her and we help each other out when we need help."

"And that's girlfriend love?"

"Yes."

Something wasn't adding up. That didn't make him jealous at all.

"Moomin," Snufkin hesitated, making sure he was certain before he spoke.

"Yeah?"

"What you just described is friendship."

"No no no!" Moomin waved his hands. "Friendship love is different!" Oh no. Snufkin had been doing this whole thing wrong, hadn't he? "That's the way we always look out for Little My even though she's usually the person who caused all the trouble in the first place! It's knowing you can count on them and they count on you and knowing exactly what they like and don't like and everything in between."

That wasn't it either. "And THAT'S how you feel about me?"

"Yes, but also no."

"Why no?"

Moomin sighed, no doubt tired of Snufkin's chronic ignorance. All he had wanted was to give him a nice gift and he had made such a mess of it. "Okay. So. We're friends, right?"

"Best friends, last I checked." There was an hurt to his words despite himself. Best friends. Better than regular friends. No one else was friends with Moomin like he was. He was special.

"Exactly! And see, best-friendship is different from friendship which is different-"

"From girlfriend love. Yes, you said. So, if that's not best-friendship love, what is? How do you know the difference between that and friendship love?" He hoped his bombardment of questions wasn't too suspicious, but he had to know.

"That's easy! Because when you see your best friend, your heart goes up into your throat, and you get so excited you can't talk, but you do anyway. And every time you look at them, you realize all over again that they are the most beautiful person in the world and you want to be their best friend forever. And when you're apart, it hurts, right here," Moomin pointed to his chest, "and nothing can fix it until you see them again. And then you do best friend things like cook dinner together and go on secret adventures just the two of you, and you think about them a lot and when you're not with them you miss them, and sometimes you hold hands just to stay close, and when you do hold their hand it doesn't matter what you think of yourself because they don't mind the way you are, and… and… and…"

Moomin was quiet. Snufkin stared Moomin and Moomin stared at Snufkin. He ought to say something, anything, but his tongue was too swelled up with every single thing he ought not to say for him to find his way around it.

Moomin broke the silence first, his ears falling.

"Best friends… don't do all that, do they?"

Snufkin had no idea why Moomin thought he would be able to answer that question. True, in his travels he had met lots of best friends, but none of them were ever as special as Moomin. "Not… always."

"I wrote you a love poem, didn't I?"

If he didn't say something right he would positively burst into flames. "A very good one, at that." Unable to meet his eyes, Snufkin looked down at the paper again. A love poem. It was a love poem.

My Snufkin.

What beautiful words.

"Ooh, how embarrassing!" Falling to the ground, Moomin covered his eyes with his paws.

"What's embarrassing about it?" Bristled again, Snufkin looked over at his friend, his heart in his throat, thump-thump-thumping as if to squeeze out everything he ought not to say.

"I'm so sorry, Snufkin. Just throw it in the river, please? Maybe some fish can eat it."

A fish, eat his poem? No way. This was treasure and he intended to treat it as such.

As terrified as he felt, Snufkin couldn't help but laugh. A love poem. Moomin had written him a love poem. Him. Snufkin. A love poem. From Moomin. A love poem. A poem for Snufkin.

"Really, Moomin. Why would I want to do that? It's so lovely. How long did this take?"

"Stop teasing, Snufkin! It isn't kind!" It almost sounded as if he might cry. Snufkin wanted to hug him, but his skin was burning, burning, burning with joy. Moomin loved him.

"Hey, Moomin. I mean it. This is excellent. You must have put so much work into it. I'm honored." His friend still refused to look at him, which made Snufkin nervous. Was he mad at him? Was this somehow Snufkin's fault? He couldn't remember making any wishes for Moomin to love him back. Those sorts of wishes were incredibly dangerous and so he tended to avoid them. Taking his wrists, he pulled Moomin's paws away from his face, heart breaking at the fear in his eyes. "Oh, Moomin." He smiled, bit back the sadness sitting on his tongue. "You seem to have things mostly figured, if a bit backwards."

"I'm so sorry, Snufkin!" What was he sorry for? For giving him the singular most happy moment of his life? Was Moomin truly sad or just embarrassed? Dearest friend of mine. Dearest. My Snufkin. Dearest Snufkin.

"You shouldn't be apologizing."

"I never meant for-" Moomin groaned. "Can we pretend this never happened?"

Sad or embarrassed? Sad or embarrassed? Which one was it?

"If that's what you want."

"I think it's best."

"Alright then." He had two choices now. Only two. He could throw himself into the river or… Or he could gamble with everything he had. Worst comes to worst, he could always call the river plan B. "But…" Pausing, Snufkin summoned up all the courage he could fit into his body. "You should know that there's a fourth type of love you forgot about."

"Fourth type?" Moomin's ears twitched upwards.

Serious as he had ever been, Snufkin nodded. This was it. No going back now. "Sure. Let's see; you got most of them-friendship, best-friendship, and girlfriend love." Snufkin tapped his fingers against Moomin's wrist as he counted them out. Even after all this time, he was still shocked by how soft he was.

"What's the fourth?"

Was he breathing? Snufkin couldn't tell if he was breathing. Did he even remember how to breathe? Where were his lungs? "Boyfriend love."

"Oh?" Moomin's voice wavered a little, but not as it did before he cried. Something different, like when they had a surprising twist in their day's plans.

"Oh, yes." Snufkin nodded, all his hope pinned to this.

"What… What type is that?" Moomin tried and failed to sound casual. Snufkin assumed he sounded much the same.

"Well…" He took a moment, let himself think the type of thoughts that he usually reserved for squashing down before bed. "That's the type where sometimes you sit out and watch the sky at night after a day of catching weird bugs and fighting off mostly real monsters. It also happens when you wait all winter just to see someone, and when you finally do, you get so excited that you feel like a hattifattener in a storm. Or when you're next to them, and all you want to do is keeping listening to their stories and poems. Or their silence. Whichever is needed until you're ready to kiss them and then sit next to them some more."

"Wow," Moomin sort-of smiled. "That sounds… almost like us."

"Almost?" Almost wasn't "yes." Almost wasn't "I love you too." Almost was… Almost.

"Yeah, except for…" Moomin trailed off. "You know, I don't actually know how people like you are supposed to kiss with such a tiny little nose."

Snufkin was used to feeling small. He lived in a world with wide open skies, forests older than time, and magic they didn't even know about yet. In the frame of things, he was very, very small indeed, barely a speck upon a dot amongst a thousand others. And yet, never had he been more aware of just how small he was until that moment, when all of the joy of every world that had ever been flooded into his body, filling him up and spilling over into pure, giddy laughter.

A moment later and Moomin was laughing too, holding onto Snufkin's arms and laughing, soaking up all the joy that Snufkin couldn't. He loved him. Snufkin loved Moomin and Moomin loved Snufkin, and he had the poem to prove it.

Invincible in his joy, he cupped his friend's cheeks, felt the soft, soft, softness of his fur against his fingers, his palms, hardly bothering to think it over before pressing their foreheads together, burrowing his nose into the soft fur.

"How's that?"

Moomin had been kissed plenty of times. Not Snufkin. Or at least, not properly. He very rarely liked things to be proper, but kissing Moomin was one thing he thought ought to be done right. And so he did, nuzzling his best friend the way he had seen the others do it, laughing as he did so.

"It tickles," Moomin laughed, and the sound was beautiful. What a perfect first kiss. What a perfect Moomintroll. What a perfect everything.

Snufkin's cheeks hurt from smiling, and yet he couldn't stop, still giddy. Taking the moment for everything he could, he pressed his forehead to his friend's snout, making the kiss as big and grand as he could. Holding onto Moomin, he felt his hat begin to fall. He didn't care though. Nothing else mattered other than this and now and the way the moomins got it all figured out so that they could kiss and laugh at the same time, and-

His first kiss came to sudden end as they ceased to be upright. Both looked at the other in surprise, but seeing as neither was hurt, they began to laugh again.

Not wanting to deal with distractions as silly as hats, Snufkin took the opportunity to lay his hat to the side, trying to tousle his hair back into a less-embarrassing shape. Moomin was lucky, not having to worry about such things.

"I meant everything I said." Moomin spoke, shy again. "You really are beautiful."

If Snufkin jumped into the river now, he would boil the fish alive with how hot his face had become. Maybe removing his hat was a mistake; he no longer had anything to hide beneath. His head told to him to say something kind back, something clever and lovely, but Moomin spoke first, rescuing him from the obligation.

"Can I- Is it okay if you kiss me again?"

He would kiss him as many times as he had kisses left in his body. There wasn't much to him, but kisses didn't take up much room, and so he was certain he could manage plenty. He looked at Moomin's smile, his wonderful smile, his perfectly crooked smile.

"Okay. But this time, we'll try it my way."

Holding his friend's face again, he leaned in, feeling very lucky that he got to have two sorts of first kisses. However, not having any prior experience with kissing left Snufkin at a bit of a loss. He was going to mess this up, he just knew it. Shoving away all the nervous thoughts in his mind, he decided to just close his eyes and try his best.

Snufkin was the type of person who spent most of his time on the ground. He was well-acquainted with rocks and roots and all sorts of things that poked and skittered. What he wasn't ready for was the absolute enveloping softness of kissing a moomintroll on the lips. It was… He was… His thoughts dancing faster than leaves in a storm, he tried not to squeak as Moomin touched his face gently, as if afraid of scaring Snufkin away. Nothing in the world could scare him now. All the maps of all the countries of all the world were his playground because he had what no one else did. He got to kiss his best friend.

The downside to this sort of kissing, Snufkin quickly realized, was that you had to breathe eventually. Moving back only long enough to gasp for air, he was grateful that Moomin didn't let go of him. Normally, he didn't like being held, but this was alright. They could stay like this for a while, at least. The thought didn't scare him. There would always be time where they had to sleep or eat or go climbing, which meant plenty of breaks. More importantly, it meant more opportunities to begin kisses. And so he began one again, just for the joy of doing so. It felt like the last minutes of a journey, right when you step on the threshold and "there" becomes "here" and it was the most blissful satisfaction he had ever know. Everything in the world was warm and soft, and Snufkin just knew this was the moment he would come back to later that night when he tried to decide whether or not it was real.

Feeling his lungs go heavy with the need for more air, he let himself tumble to the grass once again, unable to stop himself from petting his friend's face. Exhausted at having felt so many things all at once, he closed his eyes, pressed his forehead to Moomin's so that their noses touched. The silence was comfortable, yet after a while he felt he really ought to say something romantic. It was his turn, afterall.

"You're good at that." Not romantic. Why was he so bad at this?

"Thanks. I have no idea what I'm doing."

Relieved that he wasn't alone, Snufkin laughed, reaching out to take Moomin's paw. "So this is- This is a moomin kiss, right?"

"Exactly right," Moomin laughed at his silliness.

"You don't mind my 'too-small nose,' do you?" What was it that the poem said? His hat, and his pipe, and his very small nose?

"I think it's perfect. Was I- Did I do it-" There was a matching nervousness in Moomin's tone. Truth be told, Snufkin had no way of knowing whether or not they kissed right. All he knew was that he liked it very much.

"Perfect." Snufkin smiled, pushing his nose into the soft fur of Moomin's snout. "Although, if you want, we could always practice some more."

"That's very smart of you, Snufkin! You always have the best ideas."

"Yes, well." Reluctant at leaving another perfect kiss, he pushed himself up onto his elbows with a smile, "I suppose I just have the best best friend."

"Oh?"

"Or, you know. Boyfriend." Desperate to seem calm and collected, Snufkin shrugged as if it made no difference in the world to him before kissing Moomin on the lips once more.

"Boyfriend?"

"As far as I can tell, with you, there isn't much of a difference. So call me what you want."

Moomin thought it over quietly, giving it due consideration. "I think I mostly just like calling you Snufkin."

Snufkin could swear his heart itself smiled. He laughed. "That's fine. I can be just Snufkin." Moomin's Snufkin. My Snufkin. Dearest Snufkin. Lord, what great names they both had.

"Oh, good!" Moomin put his paws back to Snufkin's face, squishing his cheeks as he kissed him on the mouth. Sighing, Snufkin brushed his fingers through the fur on Moomin's cheeks, and once again, all was right in the world.