Something Real
By Laura Schiller
Based on: Alfred J. Kwak
Copyright: Herman van Veen
Author's Note: This story was inspired by conversations with acorntree1, also known as Camelot836. Please check out her YouTube, AO3 and DeviantArt accounts!
/
"I love you, Alfred."
The words were out now. Too late to take them back, nor did she want to. But as he looked back at her from his spot on the piano bench, she still saw more confusion than happiness on his face, and no wonder. She'd messed up badly tonight, and she owed him an explanation.
"Michael was just a fantasy," she hurried to say. "Even when he was right in front of me. His feelings weren't real any more than mine were. That was obvious when his wife showed up."
"His what?!" Alfred exclaimed, indignant on her behalf (and probably at least a little satisfied, too, at having his suspicions confirmed). "He's married?"
"Separated, but it clearly wasn't over between them." Winnie's face burned at the memory. Her heart wasn't broken, but her pride was humiliated after finding out that the singer she'd idolized since she was a teenager had meant to use her as a distraction from his marital problems. "The last thing I wanted was to get in the middle of that, so … I left and came straight here."
To the clog-shaped house in the meadows that had become her home, even after she and Tom had found a place of their own. To the river and the stargazing fence and all the other happy memories that belonged here. I came straight to you, she thought wistfully, wishing she knew how to put all this into words, because he deserved to know.
"So what am I, then?" Alfred asked warily. "The consolation prize?"
"No." She crossed the room in a few quick steps, sat down with him on the piano bench, and took his wings in hers. "Please don't say that. What you and I have, it's very real. And … maybe that scares me."
"It does?" His eyes widened. "But I'd never do anything to hurt you. You must know that."
"It hurts me when you go into danger." He looked like wanted to argue, but if she continued. "But that's a risk I'm willing to take. You wouldn't be you without your sense of justice. It's one of the things I love about you, and I'd never ask you to change."
Alfred smiled with relief. "Not even to learn piano?" he joked, playing a few experimental chords. "It's actually kind of fun. I might keep it up."
"In that case, I'm happy for you. And for Henk."
They laughed together at the prospect of how relieved the little mole would be when Alfred's dissonant notes could no longer chase him out of the house.
"I'm sorry too, you know," said Alfred, a little more seriously. "I was jealous of Duckson long before I had a reason. I sulked through the whole concert when you were only trying to share the music. I guess I thought … maybe you'd be happier with someone who looked like you. Maybe he could relate to you in ways that I couldn't."
When they'd first met, she wouldn't have believed that someone this confident could doubt himself so much, but now she understood, and forgave him – even if he was wrong.
"Michael's not the one who got my family out of prison, or gave us a home when we had nowhere else to go. He's not the one I've had tea with in this room more times than I can count. You and I relate to each other because of our choices, not because of how we look."
"You're absolutely right," said Alfred earnestly. "And I'm so glad. I knew I loved you from the moment we met, but the longer I know you, the more I do."
She remembered that meeting: how embarrassed she'd been after scrambling out of that luggage compartment with her family, how terrified that this white stranger would report them, and how relieved when he'd shown himself generous and open-minded instead. She couldn't honestly say it was love at first sight for her, but it was the beginning of trust and that was just as important.
Neither of them could remember afterward who moved first, but when they got up from the piano bench, neither one could look away from each other's eyes. He leaned closer and so did she, and before they knew it, in the same quiet living room that had seen so much laughter, conversation and tears, Alfred and Winnie kissed each other for the first time. It was gentle and slow and a little awkward, but they wouldn't have had it any other way.