Alfred hadn’t been expecting this question, but it made sense. Especially when she laid it out like that, because it wasn’t as though he could argue with any of it. In their own little world was actually a pretty fair descriptor of the way he felt when he was with Jo, and how quickly and inexplicably they’d bonded when they met. He didn’t find people that he felt understood him very often; Jo was a rare breed, and it just seemed like when he was with her the two of them could go anywhere, or do anything. And as much as he wished he could have argued with her second sentence, Zelda was right. Jo didn’t like her, despite the fact that they’d apparently been friends first; she couldn’t seem to get through a handful of letters with Zelda without one or both of them devolving into petty chaos. It wasn’t something he would have expected of either of them, in any other circumstance, so there was something there that he couldn’t ignore or deny. And the scene on the stairs from earlier… was also hard to ignore, to say the least.

He frowned at the wall on the other side of the room. He had a fleeting moment of irritation at Jo being so obtuse about everything, earlier, because if Zelda could follow the breadcrumbs to this question than Jo really had no excuse for having to come right out and ask what had happened on Thursday.

“I’m in love with you,” he responded in a weary tone, and though it was true he was also aware that it was not exactly an answer to the question that she had asked, and he didn’t really expect Zelda to take it as one.

He sighed, and looked from the hair on the top of Zelda’s head to the corner of the ceiling. “I don’t know,” he admitted, after a moment. He could feel her stiffen against him when he said this and regretted it almost immediately, but he couldn’t take it back now. He’d just have to explain it, and hope maybe she would understand.

“I never wanted us to be anything other than friends,” he clarified quickly. “I never thought we would. It wasn’t like… It never even crossed my mind,” he said, shaking his head. Even when she was naked in his flat, the thought hadn’t occurred to him in anything other than an abstract way — but reminding Zelda of that particular instance at the moment was probably not going to help his case, he thought.

“But then on Thursday she — well she’s leaving, she’s got this — thing and she can’t be in England anymore, so she came to say she was leaving and — and maybe she wanted me to go with her,” he admitted, cheeks flushing. “And it was just this… this fleeting thing, and it only happened once, but when I felt like she was going to disappear forever and I’d never see her again I had this thought, like — like if it would make her stay…”

He didn’t finish his sentence; he didn’t really think he was capable of finishing it. After a moment, he shifted in the bed so that he was angled more towards Zelda and pulled her closer despite how stiff she’d gotten, despite knowing that she probably wanted nothing less than to be held in that moment — he wanted to hold her, desperately needed to hold her. “And it scared me,” he admitted, embracing her so tightly it might have been described as clinging to her. “Because I’d never realized how… how easy it would be to lose you.”