It's Snufmin week ya'll

Day 1: Flowers

The first time Moomin made him a flower crown, Snufkin was quite sure his friend had picked the flowers randomly. Perhaps thoughtful only of their prettiness, the way the petals had already unfurled in preparation for the hot weather, or which colors looked well together.

"They're beautiful," He had said, admiring the care Moomin had taken in braiding the stems together. Not quick or thoughtless, the way you might do if you're bored or in a hurry. But meticulously, attentive, secure... Everything that distinguished Moomin himself really. "You put quite a bit of work into this I dare say."

Moomin smiled, but he seemed embarrassed at being caught out. He rubbed the back of his head with a paw and looked away. "Ah, yes. Of course. I didn't want it to fall apart too quickly."

Snufkin nodded as he took off his hat and put the flower crown in its place instead. He had worn flowers as decorations on the hat itself of course, but that wasn't really what Moomin had intended here, was it? "What do you think, then?"

The troll finally forced his eyes back to him, blinking for a second. "You-" But he stopped himself quickly, though he leaned forward just the tiniest bit. "It's wonderful, Snufkin. They're wonderful. And they really fit you!"

Snufkin wondered what Moomin was about to say in that fleeting moment.

"I'm glad." He said instead, smiling too, and he had worn the flower crown well into summer, when the petals started shedding and Moomin's hard work eventually did give in to the tug of the elements.

He had been too self-conscious back then to ask for Moomin to make him a new one and mostly forgot about it really, as summer turned steadily into autumn, and he busied himself with preparations for the journey he would soon undertake.

But come spring, Moomin once more waited on the bridge and came to him with something clenched behind his back.

"Buttercups?" Snufkin asked, taking the crown of yellow flowers from his friend's paws. He felt his face heat up suddenly, but ignored it stubbornly. "Whatever for?"

Moomin faltered, swinging his feet above the river and bracing himself against the wood of the bridge. There were small ripples in the water, reflecting their image in uneven waves. "Mamma has been teaching me a bit about the meaning of flowers," He explained. "These mean 'welcome home', right?"

Snufkin always was the kind of person to overthink things. "Right."

"Don't you like them?" Moomin asked, shoulders sagging just the tiniest bit and Snufkin snapped back to the present startlingly fast, patting the other's arm reassuringly.

"Of course I do," He assured, putting the crown on quickly so he could have both hands free to reel in the line of his fishing rod, which had gone taunt with the first catch of the season. "It's good to be back."

He didn't think much on it really after that. Not when Moomin gave him the forsythia. Not when Moomin gave him the pink camellia. Not even when Moomin handed him the crown of carefully arranged red tulips.

Then autumn came, trailing into the valley slowly, turning the days shorter and the air colder and Moomin watched him with weary eyes, waiting for him to announce when he would be leaving again.

Snufkin knew how much his friend hated it. But Moomin had come to accept it in the way that he did everything, with quiet toleration. Still, he seemed more than a little reluctant to let go of his hand.

"I have something for you," He admitted finally. "It's a parting gift of sorts."

Snufkin could have guessed it would be another flower crown of course. Moomin knew how little he cared for practical things. But he still didn't know exactly what to say as he took them from his friend, the delicate petals of acacia and jonquils laying soft in his hands, woven together intricately as ever.

"Moomintroll, Did y-" He started, but Moomin stopped him suddenly, letting go and taking a step back.

"I thought they looked wonderful together, don't you?" Another step back and there was something pained in his expression. Oh, Snufkin didn't like that all.

He left the valley with a heavy heart that autumn.

It took an eternity for spring to arrive that particular year. Snufkin had made himself sick with anxiety in those months, rethinking every single moment that came before it and at one point entertaining the thought of not returning at all.

Though in the end that would be even more unbearable than anything else.

Moomin was waiting for him as usual. He didn't say anything about their goodbye so Snufkin didn't either. He told him about his journey and left out all the times he was kept awake at night by tremulous worries and fickle emotions.

He didn't receive any more flower crowns.

It was not as if something had changed between them. Moomin was as he always was, radiant in every way possible. And Snufkin admired him, as he always did. But that didn't help the fact that every touch made him hesitate, every laugh made him falter. When Moomin looked at him it was like Snufkin saw him for the very first time all over again.

Surely he was just being stupid.

He was almost desperate enough to ask Little My for help, who had noticed his distress and taken to prying at it at every opportunity, because she disliked being left out probably. Or maybe she just found it amusing.

She was lying on her stomach and pelting rocks into the river, scaring away the minnows he was trying to catch. Snufkin was a patient person, and not prone to much annoyance at all. He much preferred to be alone when he was thinking difficult things over however.

"Why don't you go bother Moomin?" He asked softly, keeping his voice casual. "Maybe he can keep you company."

She rolled over on her back, frowning up at him in displeasure. "Don't you know?"

He watched intently as the current of the river pulled on the reel, making it bob slightly. "Know what?"

"Moominmamma gave him a book last year that he hasn't stopped reading since." She sighed. "Surely he knows it by heart now. I think he's waiting for something."

"And what book would that be?"

She huffed, rolling her eyes at his questions. "I don't know," She gestured her hands impatiently. "'The language of flowers' or something like that. Lots of text and no pictures, incredibly dull really."

"Is it?" He asked, but didn't listen to her response. Indeed, he could be such an absolute fool sometimes.

"I brought you something." He held out the flowers tentatively, part of him prepared for Moomin to refuse them. They weren't as nice as his friend's own efforts had been, woven together sloppily and hastily. "I'm sorry they're not very pretty."

Moomin took them slowly, turning them over in his paws a few times. "Are these..."

"Ambrosia flowers," Snufkin explained, pulling up his scarf awkwardly. He wasn't usually this bashful but right now he felt like he'd rather be invisible than anything else. "I thought they would fit you."

For a moment Moomin just stared at the flowers, considering them. The smile that broke out on his face was shaky at first, accompanied by a few rapid blinks. Then it turned into a full-on grin.

"They're wonderful." He looked up at Snufkin and there was something so fragile about him, it made the sun pale in comparison. "You're wonderful."

Moomin wore them all through the rest of summer, and when the flowers wilted Snufkin always made him a new one.

The meaning of the flowers are as follows for those curious:

Buttercups - Could mean "Welcome home" but also used as a compliment as in "I think you're beautiful/You dazzle me"

Forsythia - Anticipation

Pink camellia - Longing

Red tulips - Declaration of love

Acacia - Concealed love

Jonquils - Unanswered desires/Unrequited love

Ambrosia flowers - "Your love is reciprocated"/Mutual love