#anneshirleycuffbert

YOU ASK AND I DELIVER !!

AWAE Alternate Universe: not-officially-dating shirbert at Queen’s College (stand-alone fic)

Summary: Everyone knows that Anne Shirley-Cuthbert and Gilbert Blythe are practically an item, despite the lack of official announcement that the two are courting. Well, everyone except Royal Gardner. Will the two finally own up to their feelings for each other?

Gilbert Blythe stared at an aggravated Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, who was presently glaring at the trigonometry problems in her textbook.

He felt his heart flutter as Anne bit her lip, trying to focus on solving the fourth equation. The two had made it a habit to study together within their first two weeks of attending Queen’s College, and Gilbert didn’t know how much longer he could bear having Anne at such close proximity yet far from him in matters of the heart.

The study group started out with all the Avonlea students, but the number dwindled by early-October when other pressing matters, like courting and social engagements, presented itself. Anne and Gilbert, unsurprisingly, were the only two who had stuck it out thus far throughout the year. Diana Barry would never tell Anne this, but she felt it right for her to bow out and join a secret study group that Jane and Prissy Andrews were in, not wanting to be a third wheel to an unofficial couple.

It was now mid-November, and the two students were sitting at their usual table on the second floor of the library.

Anne groaned and looked up at her study partner and friend. Gilbert flitted his eyes down to his notebook before she could notice he’d been staring.

“This is impossible. I’m not getting this at all, Gil!”

Gilbert coloured. He loved the new nickname with which Anne called him. He definitely preferred it over Slateface, a name she would tease him with when occasion called for it. “Gil” spoke of friendliness and familiarity. Fondness.

The curly-haired boy cleared his throat. “What’s confusing to you?”

Instead of explaining what she didn’t understand, Anne began her classic rant on the perils of trigonometry and why it should not be mandatory to learn. She then glared at Gilbert, which startled him.

“What?” Gilbert said, feeling defensive.

“Why are you smiling?”

“I’m not?” Gilbert immediately felt the corners of his mouth drop. 

“But you were!” 

Gilbert’s half-masked smile turned into a full blown grin. He threw up his hands. “Okay, okay! I’m sorry, you’re just so...” he trailed off, trying to find the right word to describe Anne Shirley-Cuthbert.

“So what?” Anne’s brows furrowed in confusion, her lips slightly pouting.

Beautiful, Gilbert wanted to say, focusing all his energy on not glancing down at Anne’s lips which he suddenly wanted to kiss, then and there.

“I don’t know,” Gilbert shrugged, defeated.

Anne frowned at him and opened her mouth to speak, when a familiar voice called her name.

Anne and Gilbert turned to find Royal Gardner approaching their table. Gilbert’s hand reflexively clenched tighter around his pencil.

“Hello Anne,” Roy greeted cheerfully. He glanced at Gilbert briefly. “Gilbert.”

Gilbert only offered him a tight smile and curt nod.

Anne smiled politely. “Hello Roy. How are you this afternoon?”

“Swell. I actually came over to congratulate you.”

Anne blinked, confused. “On what?”

“You don’t know?”

“Clearly not, since she’s asking what you’re talking about,” Gilbert muttered quietly. Anne kicked him under the table.

“Why, you won the Avery scholarship!”

“What?”

“I was looking at the announcement board outside the registrar’s office this morning to find they had posted the recipients of the various scholarships. You’re one of them, Anne. Congratulations!”

“Are you serious?” Anne pinched herself, and when she flinched, her eyes widened.

“Come, see for yourself,” Roy motioned for Anne to come with him and she bounded out of her chair.

She glanced back at Gilbert. “I’ll be right back!”

The sound of a pencil snapping in half made Gilbert jump in his seat. He frowned when he realized that he had broken his pencil.

It wasn’t that he was angry about Anne getting the Avery scholarship, no. Gilbert was always proud of Anne’s achievements and believed in her when no one else would. Gilbert Blythe was aggravated. But with whom?

Anne’s frantic voice rang through the library floor and Gilbert looked up from his broken pencil.

Behind her trailed a grinning Roy Gardner, and Gilbert knew just with whom he was aggravated.

“Gilbert! Gil!” Anne flew past the desks that students were sat focused in until the redhead began making a commotion.

Gilbert stood up. The moment his eyes landed on a joyful Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, a genuine smile made its way onto his lips. He stumbled a bit when Anne propelled herself to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, laughing.

“Oof!”

“Gil, you got the Gold Medal! Congratulations! You got the gold medal!”

“And you?” His voice was muffled in her hair.

Anne pulled away to look him in his soft hazel brown eyes. Her grin was radiant. “I got the Avery!”

Gilbert laughed and in a surge of celebration and joy for the both of them, embraced Anne and spun her around.

“Congratulations, Carrots,” he grinned at the redhead who was very flushed.

“Congratulations, Slateface,” said Anne, out of breath.

Gilbert noticed Roy standing a few feet away, watching them. Gilbert’s face grew serious and he motioned to Roy with a shrug. “Gardner is waiting for you.”

Anne, looking confused, turned. “Oh, he’s waiting for the paper I edited for him. I’ll go give it to him now.”

Gilbert sat down in his seat and watched as Anne grabbed a folder from her bag and walked over to Roy.

“I made some notes on the side,” Anne began explaining her edits to a very invested Roy. Her back was now facing Gilbert.

“Oh, this is fantastic! Thank you, Anne. This is exactly why I asked you to edit my essay. You’re absolutely brilliant,” he smiled.

Anne nodded and said something Gilbert couldn’t quite make out.

“You give yourself too little credit. Thanks again, Anne,” Roy said. “I’ll see you in Writing Club?”

As Gilbert sensed the conversation coming to a close, he propped up one of the books he was supposed to be reading instead of eavesdropping on Anne. He was going to pretend he didn’t hear anything but when Anne sat down across from him with a wide grin on her face, he couldn’t help it.

“How’s your boyfriend?” Gilbert muttered, grumpy after having just watched Roy Gardner flirt with Anne.

Anne, without missing a beat and without looking up from her book, replied with, “I don’t know, Gilbert. How are you?”

The two friends froze as they realized the implication of more that had escaped from Anne’s mouth without permission.

“I’m fine,” Gilbert choked out, sounding on the verge of tears.

Anne kept her gaze on her book, feeling her face flush a deep red at her response and Gilbert’s reply. Quiet occupied the space between them for a few agonizing seconds before Gilbert allowed hope to settle in his heart.

Gilbert cleared his throat. “Anne?” Worry trickled into his voice at the sound of her stunned silence. “Carrots?”

Slowly, her eyes traveled up from her book to Gilbert’s red face. When her eyes landed on his familiar kind ones, she felt her tense muscles relax a little.

Anne sighed. This was Gilbert, her best friend. She had been content to let things stay the way they were because she loved their friendship. But more than their friendship, Anne loved Gilbert, and she could tell by the stolen glances and laughter from past study sessions and inside jokes and the way his eyes bore into her, like they did now, that he felt the same way.

Anne broke eye contact from the intensity of it all. How could she risk their friendship? What if Gilbert didn’t even feel the same way and she just tricked herself into thinking his kindness and friendship and the way he looked at her was more than it actually was?

Gilbert’s eyes furrowed in confusion and frustration. After the whole situation with Winifred, he knew Anne was the girl he truly loved, the girl he was in love with. But he had made the mistake of letting go of the momentum it took years to build in the progression of their relationship. Gilbert had left a letter declaring his love to Anne, which Anne, for reasons unbeknownst to him, did not receive. Hazel mentioned a letter Anne left for him but had mysteriously vanished.

Neither refused to disclose the contents of their letters and so here they were, back to pining and feelings of unrequited love that they knew deep down were anything but.

Anne had just about made her mind to continue this act of just friends, remembering the feelings of a broken heart she‘d experienced when Gilbert was courting Winifred. The voice of reason in her mind brought up the fact that Gilbert had broken things off with Winnie. Anne bit her lip to keep the tears threatening to spill from her eyes at bay.

Gilbert felt desperation surge through him. “Anne.”

Anne looked at him with shiny eyes. “Gil, I... I don’t know what to say.”

“I do,” said Gilbert, determined now. “I don’t know exactly how to say this so I’m just going to say it.”

After a few seconds of silence, Anne felt the corners of her mouth tipping up. “Gil?”

“Sorry,” Gilbert breathed out. “Just gathering my courage.”

The sound of Anne’s laughter gave him all he needed.

“Anne, I know some time ago we had sent each other letters,” he began. “That neither of us ever received. I thought I could go on without you knowing how I feel about you. I can’t anymore. I can’t sit by while others ask to court you–“

“No one’s asked to court me,” Anne rolled her eyes. “And I doubt anyone will.”

“But they will. Roy Gardner has had his eye on you from the beginning. Anthony Partridge and William Smith have been competing for your attention. But that’s not the point,” Gilbert exhaled. “The point is... I like you, Anne. No. I love you. I’m in love with you, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. I can’t let us go on at Queen’s without you knowing how I feel, because I’ve allowed myself to hope that you might feel the same for me.”

“I–“

“And it doesn’t matter if you don’t have feelings for me. I mean, of course it does, I’ll respect whatever your response.”

“I–“

“I just want you to know that you shouldn’t feel obligated to say or do anything because of how I feel for you. If you don’t feel the same, I’m content to remain friends because I love you, Anne.”

“Will you let me say something now?” Anne looked at the boy with a pointed stare.

Gilbert blushed, sheepish. “Yes.”

“Gilbert Blythe, I love you too.”

Gilbert blinked. “Yes, I know you love me as a friend Anne–“

“No,” laughed the redhead. “‘I love you’ as in I’m in love with you, you idiot.”

“Oh.”

The two smiled at each other with burning cheeks and joyful hearts. After a long time of waiting and pining, they were finally on the same page.

A familiar voice broke the trance Anne and Gilbert were in. Cole Mackenzie stood a few feet away looking at them knowingly.

“Hi Cole,” Anne greeted, elated to see their friend.

“Hey,” nodded Gilbert, smiling.

“Finally figured it out for yourselves, have you?” Cole smirked, glancing between the two.

“Shut up,” said the two in unison, garnering triumphant laughter from the art student.

Gilbert turned his gaze toward Anne, not bothering now to hide how captivated he was by her. He watched as Anne scolded Cole for skipping his class, even if it was to visit them, even if it was to escort his friend Genevieve to visit her sister at Queen’s, and does Aunt Jo know of your shenanigans because if not, you shall certainly be found out!

Anne felt the warm heat of a familiar pair of hazel eyes, and her cheeks flushed without even looking at Gilbert. She said goodbye to Cole, who didn’t even bother saying his standard dramatic “au revoir!” to the raven-haired boy because he knew Gilbert’s one-track mind was thinking of only Anne now. Anne felt Gilbert’s left hand take hold of hers across the table and she interlocked her fingers with his. 

Silently, with the soft hum of kindred and requited love beating through their locked hands, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert and Gilbert Blythe went back to studying. 

That is, until Anne could finally focus again on her trigonometry problem and be faced with the same infuriating dilemma, to which Gilbert would laugh and face the wrath of a redhead scorned by mathematics.

-

the way Gilbert Blythe wrote a heartfelt letter parallel to the one Anne Shirley-Cuthbert wrote to him, calling her his Anne with an E and the only keeper of the key to his heart

the way Gilbert Blythe left his bags and yeeted off the train to find Anne Shirley-Cuthbert only to make a full stop admiring the beauty before him and caressed her face silently asking for consent to pull her in and kiss her with all the love he’s felt for her for years and years

the way Gilbert Blythe asked Anne Shirley-Cuthbert if she truly had feelings for him looking at her with those eyes™ like it was even remotely possible that she would say no

the way Gilbert Blythe responded to Anne Shirley-Cuthbert kissing him back, like he couldn’t believe what was happening but he sure as heavens wasn’t not going to kiss her with more passion and urgency and love

the way Gilbert Blythe kissed Anne Shirley-Cuthbert and kissed her again and again and again because he was utterly in love with her and wanted to show it, wanted to feel it, wanted her to know it

the way Gilbert Blythe proposed being pen pals to Anne Shirley-Cuthbert and laughed about the pen

the way Gilbert Blythe got on the carriage, sighed, and smiled with joy as he jumped off needing to kiss Anne Shirley-Cuthbert two more times before he left already missing the love of his life

the way Gilbert Blythe and Anne Shirley-Cuthbert were friends and lovers and equals in that iconic scene

Gilbert, grumpy after having just watched Roy Gardner flirt with Anne: How’s your boyfriend?

Anne, without missing a beat and without looking up from her book: I don’t know, Gilbert. How are you?

Dear Gilbert,

I look like my mother...

Remember that deeply meaningful journey I told you I was on? It was to find my parents, and I did.

Before I expand on this, I want to apologize for treating you so rudely that day you escorted me to Charlottetown. I am so, so sorry. I regret to say I predict there will be a great many things I must apologize for - past, present, and future. Please accept my apologies in advance.

Shortly after you left, Matthew and Marilla gave me my birthday wish, to know my parents. They surprised me with a book they had discovered from one of the houses I stayed in before I came to Green Gables, titled “The Language of Flowers.” The book was a gift from my father to my mother and we found her portrait painted in the back cover. I wish you were here so I can show you how my mother and I share the same hair, the same writing, the same passion. My parents were so enraptured with each other and it relieves me to know they were beautiful people and kindred spirits and not people I simply imagined for myself. It comforts me to know that I carry a part of them with me.

There’s a numbness that exists in my soul for not having the chance to know them, but there is a greater ache in my heart from missing home. Matthew and Marilla, I know, are lonely without me as much as I am without them. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful to be at Queen’s, excited to learn after a summer in limbo. I feel a blessed anticipation, too, with the hope of what’s to come after. But I can’t help feeling guilty that I can be happy without Matthew and Marilla by my side to experience it as well. I can almost hear Rachel Lynde labeling these thoughts as nonsensical.

You’ll find enclosed in this letter my favorite pressed aster flower out of the multitudes the girls and I picked before supper to adorn our rooms with. Notice the little odd white spot on one of its petals? We were all homesick and hoped that a walk by the nearest trail would lighten the feeling, and found a beautiful abandoned garden. I thought you’d also like something that reminded you of home, what with you being in the city and all. The Aster was listed in my mother’s book as one of her favorites, after the Queen Anne’s lace.

How are you, Gilbert? What’s Toronto like? Have you met any kindred spirits yet? Any interesting people? What’s Emily Oak like?

Diana told me you knew nothing of the letter I wrote to you. I cannot describe to you how I laughed and laughed at her retelling of your conversation with her on the train. How you managed to survive her scolding amazes me. Which brings me to my first follow-up question: How do you feel about me, Gilbert, really?

I can take a smart guess, but if there is anything I learned from my recent experiences, it is not to live life based on assumptions. And, I may as well confess, I was in a temper when I found your letter with my pen on my vanity– I cannot believe you were in my room!– and the letter was a poor victim of my rage. What I managed to scavenge from the remains painted the wrong picture of you and Winifred, and so, I ask you directly. 

As for the letter I wrote that failed to reach you, its contents were simple and true. Gilbert Blythe, I love you. I am sorry for the way I reacted that night at the ruins and I am sorry I was confused but I know you understand I’m not anymore. I look forward to the day we can talk face to face so I can tell you in person. Consider this my proper advance.

I’ve left the lamp burning for too long, so I’m rushing to finish this letter. The housekeeper is very strict about curfew and lights out by ten in the evening. I’ve made up my mind to make her like me since I am staying under her roof for at least a year, so I will not be caught disobeying her.

Matthew sold Pride, the cow, and gave me the money to use as a travel fund, so I will be visiting Green Gables next weekend. I also plan to visit Bash and Delphine, and hopefully get acquainted with Miss Hazel. Oh, Gil, how fortunate it is that Delly will grow up with her family, with no doubts she is loved. I can’t deny that I envy what’s to come of her wonderful childhood. But, then again, if I wasn’t an orphan, I would never have met Matthew, Marilla, Diana, and Miss Stacey. I would never have met you. I’m learning there’s little room for regret when one recites the things they are grateful for which keeps their perspective fresh. Although, I do regret whacking you with my slate when we were children, but only a tiny bit. You cannot deny you deserved it.

I miss you already, Gil. Come home someday.

Lovingly yours,

Anne

P.S. my word of the day is nostalgia: a feeling of pleasure and sometimes slight sadness at the same time as one reflects their past

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This is Letter 1! To read Letter 2: Gilbert’s letter to Anne, click here <3

My Anne with an E,

I definitely deserved it. I confess, you ensnared me the moment I first saw you but I think it was when you broke your slate over my head that I began to love you. And having been in love with you for so long, I was beginning to think I’d never hear you say those words and now that you’ve written them to me, a part of me fears this is all a dream.

I apologize I haven’t written to you sooner. The first few days of class were incredibly hectic and I did not want to write you until I was caught up and was able to pay your words the rapt attention they deserve. You must know that I love you–that I am wholeheartedly in love with you, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert.

I ended my relationship with Winifred because I realized that the person I truly love is you. It always has been and always will be you. I am truly sorry for any grievance my ignorance has caused. Please consider my apology all-inclusive and diligently inform me of any offences that require special attention. I’m determined to learn the same lesson you’ve learned on relying on truth and not assumption. Regarding your case with my first letter and your offenses to me, please know it’s all water under the bridge. And a source of amusement to me now.

I cannot express how glad I am to hear about your parents. I look forward to meeting them in the pages of your mother’s book and learning the language of the flowers in which the three of you have mastered fluency. As for the Aster you sent with your letter, I keep it on my desk, safely enclosed in a picture frame. Thank you. I look at it when I need to be reminded there is good in the world because it makes me think of you and of home.

You’ll find with this letter a handful of chamomile flowers. For our first assignment in Herbology class, students were tasked to gather edible plants and flowers. We learned to clean, dry, preserve, and use the substances to make basic natural remedies and teas. Since it is beginning to cool in Toronto, I reckon it’s definitely become breezy on the Island. Please take the liberty of sharing the chamomile tea with your housemates as a preventative for colds, and perhaps your housekeeper as well, seeing that she will need help getting a good night’s sleep with you girls under her roof. I hope to earn her good graces in preparation for my future visits. Give Moody and Charlie my warm regards; I hope they’re staying out of scrapes. I forgot to thank Diana for confronting me on the train that fateful day, so please extend my deepest thanks and gratitude for her honesty and boldness.

Toronto and its people are diverting. There is always something to see and do, which is a happy distraction from the loneliness that accompanies me in a large city. I have made some friends, but few good ones. Kindred spirits are hard to come by, even in a university as large as U of T. I’ll have you know that Dr Emily Oak is a kindred spirit and in her thirties, so you needn’t worry about her, or any other. You are the fond object of my affection and desire, Anne, and the only keeper of the key to my heart.

Kiss Delly for me when you visit and give everyone my love. I have to warn you, Bash was over-the-moon after I wrote to him about us and I don’t think he’s recovered from his hysterics and gloating. I also wrote to Matthew and Marilla soon as I arrived at Union Station, and I have received their blessing to court you. Jerry Baynard even took the time to write a post script at the end of the Cuthberts’ letter, with a friendly warning to me. I laughed aloud when I saw he spelled your name with a capital E and had to explain to my roommate, Benjamin Frederick Wright, the reason for my outburst. What incident brought on Jerry’s exaggerated emphasis on the spelling of your name? 

I feel the bittersweet nostalgia of the past, same as you. But I also take comfort in knowing that we always carry these memories with us through life. Some experiences are pleasant and some are dreadful, but it takes both to grow a person. When I find living in Toronto difficult, I think of my father, of dear Mary. The joy and pain of their memory keeps me going. I pray your memories will give you the same grace. Your very existence has brought life to Avonlea and will bring hope to Charlottetown and I am hopeful it will extend the same blessings to you.

You’ve answered my most pressing questions so I offer you this one: May I visit you at Queen’s on one of the harvest weekends? I don’t have a definite date planned yet, but perhaps we could travel to Avonlea together when I come calling. Bash anticipates good crop on the farm this year, and I promised I’d help him with the harvest. I’m sure he’ll take every opportunity to tease me about you then.

Ben just threatened to give me a bunch of fives and a black eye if I don’t turn off my lamp soon–the poor man cannot sleep with any light on, which surprises me because he is from the city–so I must end my letter here. He might not seem kindred at first acquaintance, but I assure you he is. That story is for another time. I’ll be seeing you, Carrots.

With all my love,

Gilbert

P.S. word of the day: Resfeber (Swedish) - the restless race of the traveller's heart before the journey begins, when anxiety and anticipation are tangled together.

P.P.S. If you are challenging me to a long-distance duel of fascinating words, be forewarned: Ben has an excellent foreign vocabulary dictionary which I’ve been given permission to borrow for the sole purpose of battling you, so prepare to accept defeat.

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This is Letter 2! To read Letter 1: Anne’s letter to Gilbert, click here

To read Anne’s reply letter or more awae shorts, click here to access my index!

flower crowns and kisses

“Are you almost finished?” Gilbert asked, extending his hands in hopes of holding either of Anne’s.

“Just hold still, will you?” Anne slapped them away. “And no peeking!”

Gilbert threw his hands up in surrender, laughing with a tender expression that caused Anne’s breath to catch in her throat.

“Okay, sorry! My eyes have been closed for ages and I really miss looking at you.”

Anne’s cheeks burned bright red as she rolled her eyes and continued fumbling with the flowers she and Gilbert had picked on their walk to their favourite tree. She was thankful in that moment that Gilbert could not see the effect his innocent words had on her.

It was early evening, and they had spent the glorious summer day walking around the parts of Avonlea they missed most while at school. Gilbert and Anne were talking about their favorite professors when Gilbert pointed out a beautiful patch of flowers and Anne had the bright idea to make flower crowns.

Gilbert had no previous experience, but the excitement in Anne’s expression wiped out whatever little protest he would have made, if it was even possible he could even deny her this simple pleasure. That, and he refused to miss out on making anything a competition with Anne to rile her up, courting or not. In all honesty, he didn’t want to win nor did he expect to. Seeing Anne at work with her eyes focused and hands determined to create was a wonder and a prize in itself.

Gilbert only regretted his decision when Anne forced him to close his eyes. She didn’t want him to see how the flower crown she had made for him was much more intricate than the one he made her, if only to spare him from feeling inadequate–despite her knowing that Gilbert wasn’t the type to feel insecure about being less talented than her in any respect. Besides, Anne liked watching Gilbert when he didn’t know how closely she was looking at him.

“It’s only been five minutes,” said Anne. Gilbert had picked up the newfound softness in her voice and found her left hand and captured it between his hands. “Gil.”

“Anne,” he breathed, sitting up straight. “You’re really killing me, here. I’m dying to see you.”

Anne placed the flower crown ever so gently atop Gilbert’s head of soft curls that he didn’t notice he was wearing it.

“Anne?”

“Wait ten seconds.”

“Fine,” huffed Gilbert. “But once I finish counting down from ten, I will not deny my eyes the pleasure of gazing upon your beauty.”

Anne smiled. “Fine.”

“Ten,” Gilbert began counting immediately. “Nine.”

As the seconds passed, time slowed down for Anne in paradox.

She stared at the boy, no, the man sitting cross-legged in front of her. Her friend. Her partner. Her equal. Hers.

Gilbert Blythe had always looked ridiculously handsome. Too beautiful for his own good. However, in this scene, under their favourite Red Maple tree, wind gently blowing his dark curls to and fro and head adorned with a crown of the most delicate flowers, the most beautiful endearing smile gracing his lips, and his brows furrowed slightly in anticipation, Gilbert Blythe looked ethereal.

She had missed him terribly during the school year. Their correspondence via letters helped a great deal, but nothing could replace being physically present with the person you love.

Anne felt an overwhelming pang in her heart as she took in the wonder that was her proponent to her happiness and thanked the God she believed existed for allowing her to be alive and present in this moment with the love of her life.

“One.”

Time both stopped and sped up the moment Gilbert’s soft hazel eyes opened and captured Anne’s piercing gray ones. Their chests froze and it seemed in that moment they shared one breath.

Gilbert drank in the absolute beauty that was Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. Her hair, which matched the leaves that hung from the branches, moved like a crackling fire in the cooling air. He raised his hand to tuck a strand behind her ear and shivered when he heard Anne gasp at the contact of his thumb delicately brushing her jaw.

Their eyes travelled down to the other’s lips which broke out into a mutual smile that told of friendship and adoration for one another. A gust of wind unraveled the precariously-made flower crown sitting atop Anne’s head, which Gilbert had made in less precision but with an equal amount of love, if it was even possible to quantify it. The flowers of Anne’s crown tumbled and tangled out of and into her flowing strands and some petals brushed down her face like nature’s kisses.

Anne couldn’t help but laugh and close her eyes and do her best to capture this moment, this sensation in her heart and carry it with her for all eternity.

At the sound of her joy and the thought that he had everything to do with it in this moment, Gilbert felt an ache in his heart to be closer to Anne, despite the fact they were cross-legged without even an inch between them. So close, in fact, that Gilbert could find the five freckles that dusted Anne’s right cheek and resembled the shape of a heart. His heart soared at the remembrance of the day he discovered them, the day he was allowed to be so close to explore the pinprick details of the constellations on Anne’s skin.

His eyes fixated on her smile and the curve of her lips and they darkened with resolve. When Anne opened her eyes, hers fell on his with a vulnerability he never would have dreamed he’d have the honor to see. Like Miss Stacey’s magnets, the two were drawing closer to each other before they could even comprehend it.

Anne blinked, realizing Gilbert’s lips were mere centimetres from hers. She felt suspended in time, feeling the goosebumps rise from her warm skin as she felt his unsteady breath mingling with her own.

“Gil,” she muttered, enjoying the name and taste of it on her lips. “Gilbert.”

“Anne,” he whispered. “I’m going to kiss you now. If you have any objections, speak now or forever hold your peace because I’m about to lose mine.”

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert made no sound, dared not to even breathe, for fear that doing so would deprive her of the experience that is Gilbert Blythe’s kiss.

These equals in love pulled the other closer, Anne gripping Gilbert’s shirt, tugging him toward her, and Gilbert slipping his fingers behind Anne’s neck, pulling her closer.

Gilbert smiled as their lips met, his heart bursting with love and fulfillment as he tried, for the nth time, to wrap his mind around the fact that he belonged to this redhead with the most beautiful heart as much as she was his. His girl, who had stolen his heart years ago before they even knew they cared for each other. His vision, who embodied adventure and a promise of life. His Anne with an E, who spoke beauty into existence and pushed him to be the best he can, which at the moment meant kissing her with all the love in his soul.

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert felt tears threatening to spill from her eyes at the thought that she was allowed to love Gilbert Blythe and be loved by him who had seen her for who she is and chose to love her because of and despite it all. Beautiful, strong, gentle, brilliant Gilbert Blythe, who had so much love and passion for the world he barely knew what to do with it except to kiss her in this space in time. And he belonged to her. Her Gilbert, who loved the very things she loathed about herself, and helped her see the beauty in what she called her chaos. Instead of crying, Anne laughed into the kiss as the giddiness of her heart bubbled out of her beating chest.

Gilbert’s free hand found the small of her back and firmly rested itself there as Anne captured his face between her always cold hands, smiling when Gilbert shivered at her touch and grinning when she felt his pulse quicken as her fingers nestled at the tender spot right under his jaw.

Anne was almost delirious at the romance of it all. Never in her wild imagination would she have conjured up this astounding image. Kissing Gilbert Blythe under the tree he labeled his favorite because it reminded him of Anne Shirley-Cuthbert and her fiery spirit.

As they pulled away, they sighed at the loss of contact but they could not deny themselves their need for oxygen.

Chests heaving, gasping for air, cheeks flushed, lips swollen, hair disheveled. The pair took in the other’s appearance and laughed.

Anne intertwined her fingers with Gilbert’s and pulled him in for a quick peck. Concern superseded her longing to kiss him again when she felt the rapid pulse beating wildly in his hands.

“Gil? Are you alright?”

He nodded, flashing her his crooked grin and relishing the flustered demeanor of his love, and knew for certain he looked the same. Anne felt pride knowing that it was she who caused him to look so improper, his dark hair sticking out in messy waves and his cheeks bright red. Mrs. Blackmore would have a heart attack if she could see them now. She laughed, remembering the incidents where they were almost caught kissing in the parlor by Mang and the girls. But they were alone now, with only nature as their witness, so Anne took the liberty to kiss either of his cheeks, which immediately flushed a deep red. She reached up to brush her fingers through his hair in a half-hearted effort to tame the curls she adored so much. Gilbert’s expression turned serious as he watched Anne close her eyes and smile.

“Gilbert,” Anne voiced her thoughts aloud. “I know I am my own person, but being with you makes me feel so... whole.”

This illicited a smile from him. “Really?”

Anne looked at him and her cheeks darkened. “Really.”

“Well, you have quite the opposite effect on me,” Gilbert said with a shaky breath.

“Oh? Do tell,” Anne grinned, moving closer now.

treats everyone with kindness and respect

is a pure boi who cried bc he was ashamed of the way he handled Mary’s diagnosis and wanted to be strong for her

tried to find Elijah to tell him of Mary’s illness even though he stole many of the Blythe’s heirlooms when he slept under Gil’s roof as a welcomed guest

supported Bash when the love of his life died because he knows what it’s like to lose a loved one and was not ashamed to introduce the LaCroix family as his own to the Rose family

believed in and stood up for Anne when most everyone was ready to cancel her even though she didn’t treat him very kindly prior to but for good reason

protested side-by-side with Anne for the right for freedom of speech and encouraged her in the beginning when she was losing hope

loves loves loves Anne Shirley-Cuthbert in the best way he knows how and went to consult her first about Mr. Rose’s offer bc he was willing to give it all up for her

has aspirations to make a difference in the world by becoming a doctor because he’s witnessed firsthand what it’s like to lose someone from sickness that may have been treated but weren’t due to lack of modern medicine and poor healthcare

is a good person

is Gilbert Blythe

Gilbert Blythe has been through so, so much for a person his age, and to still be Gilbert Blythe, after everything he’s experienced, is admirable. He didn’t have a proper childhood and had to watch his father and Mary deteriorate and die, forcing him to grow up real quick. Though his experiences have made him wiser, he is still a boy, still a person, still someone who has lost loved ones and is still processing all the change that’s happened in a hot minute. As Moody said, Gilbert is determining the course of his life and that’s not something he takes lightly.

As of right now, he is not aware that Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, the girl he’s loved the moment she whacked his head with her slate, loves him, is in love with him.

What he does know is that he has a real chance to pursue a dream and aspiration he’s had since his father died. He’s been holding out for hope and this is the light at the end of the tunnel. Say what you will, but I think he is allowed to consider the easy way out by taking the offered silver platter after the burdens he’s been carrying his whole life. It’s not even a matter of Anne vs. Winifred either, it’s a matter of his home and the people he loves vs. his dream and the Sorbonne.