It hadn't happened for a few years. Three, if he remembered correctly.

The past three winters he had been away, Snufkin had felt at peace, happy within himself, enjoying the solitude but excitedly awaiting his inevitable return to Moominvalley. His travels had been interesting, his spirits high and his mental state healthy.

What had changed?

This year things felt different.

It had started as Autumn came to an end. He began to feel similar to how he had done those years ago, in his darkest hours, when he had forgotten all the good in the world and begun to disappear.

Snufkin had often become invisible as a child. It was just easier; giving in to his melancholy thoughts rather than dealing with them. There was no one to talk about any of it with, anyway. As a young boy he was always alone. Before he was able to he independent and happy without company, he was lonely and often felt worthless. And it didn't matter that he knew that he was loved. It didn't matter that he knew that Moomin valued him, that he missed him deeply every winter, because all the things that he knew were true seemed to fade during those cold cold nights when he sat alone in his tent beside the frozen river.

There had to be a reason his mother couldn't look after him. There must be an explanation for why his father abandoned him. Why he never kept contact. Why he probably didn't want anything to do with Snufkin... His mother probably didn't want anything to do with him either... Everyone left him, and there had to be a reason, and in Snufkin's frozen brain, left to his thoughts for months on end, he began to believe that it was him.
It was his fault.

And so he began to disappear.

His extremities went first: fingers and toes. It started with a tingling, like pins and needles, and then everything went very numb. Then went his tail. Then the invisibility spread like a deadly vine from his chest, seeping out over his limbs and up over his face. Only his clothes remained visible.

Snufkin had managed to pull himself out of these dark times when spring began and he returned to Moominvalley, which he was grateful for... He didn't want the Moomins and the others to see how vulnerable he could become when left to his own devices. He was independent. He didn't need them to worry about him. He didn't need them.

Did he?

Snufkin was pleased that he had kept in a good headspace the past three years, and was disappointed in himself when by the end of the Autumn, when he was preparing to leave, he began to feel down again, like the last few times. It started in his chest: a cold, numb feeling, as though he had been frozen by the Groke. He was used to that feeling, and tried to push it away. He didn't want it to happen again.

But after saying goodbye to everyone, he felt the familiar weight settle like a heavy animal on his chest.

And he just couldn't shake it.

When he left and begun his travelling, it stayed with him. He began to relive his darkest moments. The depression grew like dry rot over his soul. It sat on his back like a monstrous bird, sharp taloned and strong.

Snufkin started to get more and more tired, exhausted, even, as the Winter truly began. He went to sleep earlier and slept longer. He needed as much energy as possible for his actual travelling, which he did while it was still light. He barely felt refreshed enough to get up when the sun rose. Everything took a big effort. His limbs felt heavy and his breathing started to become shallow.

Snufkin began to stop eating. He forced himself to still try, but he had no appetite and any fruit or nuts he managed to forrage were tasteless. It took him an unnecessary amount of effort to chew and swallow every bite. His clothes got looser. He had always been slim, with his travelling lifestyle not suited to carrying much weight, but he quickly lost any extra fat he had had on his body over the first Winter weeks. He always put on a little more weight when he visited Moominvalley, because Moominmamma would jump on any opportunity she had to feed him, saying how thin he looked, and he couldn't help himself when her cooking was always so excellent. So it normal for him to lose some weight when he first set off on his Winter travels, but this time it was different. This time he was losing it dangerously fast, and he didn't seem to be able to put any back on, no matter how hard he tried. Whenever he caught a glimpse of his own reflection in a frozen pond he barely recognised himself: his face was much thinner, his cheekbones jutting out, his jawline sharp. His skin was pale and his eyes were sunken and dark.

Midwinter, the invisibility started to happen.

And it wouldn't go away.

No matter what Snufkin did, no matter how hard he tried to remember all the good times, all the wonderful things about the world, all his happy memories- he couldn't. He couldn't string one coherent thought with another. All that dragged around his mind was a feeling of failure. He wasn't independent. He was weak. No wonder everyone left him. Moomin wouldn't want him back like this. No one would want him.

And so he stayed invisible. Soon, his voice disappeared too.

Why should he bother going back to Moominvalley? No one would want to see him like this. He was so embarrassed and ashamed and he knew would just be a hindrance to everyone.

Snufkin had pitched his tent by the edge of a frozen river bank. He sat by the small fire he had managed to light, forcing down a thin stew he had made from pine needles and roots. He placed an invisible hand to his stomach, felt how it had become concave, how he could feel each individual rib. He didn't need to he able to see his body to know he wasn't taking care of it. Snufkin stifled a sob, and was suddenly overcome with sorrow that he just burst into tears. No sound escaped his lips as he rocked back and forwards, choking and heaving great throat wrenching sobs. After a while he rubbed his tired eyes and then took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He hesitated, then pulled out his harmonica, thinking that perhaps this would bring back some cheerfulness. He blew into it... And no sound came out.

Snufkin put the small silver instrument away and went back into his tent, wondering why he ever even bothered.

That night Snufkin slept for a long time- much longer than usual- but he was awoken by birdsong. Exhausted and confused he crawled out of his tent to find the river running again, the frost gone from the ground, which was soft, with a few brave snow drops beginning to push their way through the young grass. The Winter was passing and Spring was on its way.

Snufkin made a decision: he couldn't bare to stay away from Moominvalley, even if he would bring them the misery he carried around with him like a dead weight. He would set off to see them and just have to face the consequences of being invisible. No doubt he deserved it.

A/N- I based Snufkin's saddest moments off how I feel when things get tough, so they're quite a personal response to feeling depressed. I've never actually suffered from diagnosed depression, which I'm very grateful for, but the times I've felt at my lowest, I described here. Please be supportive.