Chapter Text
When Anne had found herself promising Diana she’d consider confessing her feelings to Gilbert, she did so knowing full well that she was leaning towards never actually following through with it. As the days passed though, Anne found herself mulling over Diana’s words more and more…
But what if he does? Diana’s voice poked and prodded in her head. It seems as though if there’s even a chance he does, it’s worth taking the risk…
She wasn’t sure if Diana was aware, but with or without meaning to, Anne’s best friend had given her a wonderful gift: she’d given her the gift of hope— the ability to see through the foggy, convoluted mist of her mind and grasp on to a glimmer of possibility (however faint it might be) that Gilbert maybe could feel the same way.
And that tiny glimmer of hope was more than enough to flip a switch inside of Anne’s brain.
The idea of possibility exhilarated her— and did wonders to help combat the incessant crushing feeling she’d been enduring over the past few weeks. Whereas before Anne’s thoughts were filled with dread over the idea that she was doomed to die alone— wasting away with nothing but her unrequited love for Gilbert Blythe for company— now her thoughts were filled with swoon-worthy scenarios of what it might be like to be loved back.
Daydreaming of requited love, Anne thought to herself as the days went on, was much better than resigning oneself to crushing heartache. Maybe that’s what Ruby had meant when she had insisted that being smitten was wonderful…
Her frequent reveries would find Anne calling to mind images of she and Gilbert doing the most mundane things— reading by the fire, with him leaning back against the couch and Anne comfortably resting against his chest…baking biscuits and pies for Marilla and Matthew and Bash and Delphine at Green Gables, bodies brushing as she reached for the flour, or he for the sugar…trips to the seaside, walking hand in hand, warm sand squishing between their toes…
Imagining domestic bliss was rather scrumptious, but daydreaming about stolen moments? That was Anne’s favorite— of fingers grazing not-so-accidentally against the back of hands when they passed each other in church…of Gilbert drawing her into his strong arms when they found themselves with a spare moment alone…she’d think of the way she’d tuck her head under his marvelous chin…of being so close she could hear his heart thumping away in his chest…of how she and Gilbert would dare to hold each other for just a moment longer than they should despite the risk of getting caught…
Sometimes (okay, maybe fairly regularly) she’d daydream about the secret kisses they’d share if she were Gilbert’s and Gilbert was hers-- quick ones, lingering ones, longing ones…in her dreams, she and Gilbert had shared kisses all across the whole of Avonlea— from deep in the stables at Green Gables, all the way to the base of that spectacular cherry tree by the train station she’d marveled at the first day she'd come to town.
Once at school, Anne even imagined sneaking a stolen kiss in the classroom’s supply cupboard— eyes staring off into space and Miss Stacy’s voice fading into white noise as she let her imagination take over…
“Alright, class— clear your desks— it’s time for today’s science lesson,” Miss Stacy would announce. “Gilbert, Anne, if you would be so kind as to go into the supply closet and retrieve the materials I’ve left there for the demonstration while I pass some reading material out.”
Anne would stand from the desk she shared with Diana and head towards the small room, hyperaware of Gilbert walking just a step behind her…
“After you…” he’d say, reaching out ahead of them to open the door for Anne, who in turn would shoot him a secret smile as she passed.
She’d pick up one of two boxes Miss Stacy had set aside for the day’s experiment, and turn to find the door had mysteriously closed behind them…
And before she could make to open it, Gilbert would pull her back with a soft tug on her elbow.
“You’ve got something on your face,” he’d whisper. “Right about here…”
He’d kiss her then— just a sweet little peck on the lips, and Anne would scold him for being so bold, all while secretly being pleased that Gilbert just couldn’t help himself…
“You’re incorrigible, Gilbert Blythe— what if we’d gotten caught?”
“We might still if you don’t stop blushing so furiously,” he’d tease, before leading the way back out the door and into the classroom….
Anne, completely lost in her daydream, had missed the fact that Miss Stacy had been trying to call her up to the front of class to solve a geometry problem on the blackboard.
She rushed forward as quickly as she could and then, with chalk in hand, solved the equation carefully under the eagle-eyed watch of Miss Stacy.
“Very good,” said the teacher after Anne was finished. “You can take your seat now, Anne…”
Anne breathed a sigh of relief as she waked back to her desk.
“Though I implore you to save the daydreaming for after class,” Miss Stacy added.
A handful of her classmates snickered, prompting Anne’s cheeks to flush (for real this time).
After that, she made a solemn vow to herself that she would limit the times in which she fantasized about Gilbert Blythe to more prudent hours— like while she was doing her chores, or to just before she drifted off to sleep.
Daydreaming about Gilbert did wonders to soothe her aching heart, but it didn’t do much to quell Anne’s incessant curiosity. And it wasn’t long before Anne found herself obsessing over what it would feel like-- really feel like— to kiss Gilbert with abandon.
Would his lips be soft and pliant? Would they be gentle, but firm? Would he taste sweet like the apples he and Bash grew in the orchard?
That is the crux of having so much scope for the imagination, Anne thought as she traipsed through the Haunted Wood— that her knack for imagining the most wondrous scenarios made it so she couldn’t quite feel completely satisfied until she’d settled on every last detail. And the problem with Gilbert Blythe, was that the very idea of him was supplying Anne with a seemingly infinite number of possibilities, which in turn made it impossible for her to come to a conclusion that seemed to fit just right…
The old story club was nothing but ruins now, but Anne sometimes still came her to think.
She tiptoed through the scraps of wood that had previously stood in the shape of four walls, and in between the shards of clay that had once held together in the shapes of Cole’s spectacular sculptures. There wasn’t much left to destroy (Billy Andrews had made sure of that) but even so, Anne moved carefully through the debris so as not to cause more damage to a place that still felt as though it held so much magic.
The ends of a long birds feather caught her eye as the toe of her boot kicked up some foliage. She picked it up, running her fingers through the soft plumes before gently twirling it between her thumb and forefinger.
The object brought to mind a memory of sitting in a circle with the other girls back at Green Gables as they took turns trying to keep a much smaller feather afloat using only the gentlest of breaths.
Why must the girl wait for the boy? If I wanted to kiss a boy couldn't I just...kiss him?
Her own words from that very day ricochetted around her head, causing Anne to huff exasperatedly at her own foolishness.
At the time she'd truly believed the bold statement that she'd made (despite the protest of Diana, Ruby, Jane, and Tilly)— but that was before she had anyone she even remotely wanted to kiss herself.
And now that she did? Well the actual execution of how to go about touching her face to another human's seemed far easier said than done.
For a moment, she entertained the idea of being brave enough to run straight over to the Blythe-Lacroix property.
Gilbert would be working in the orchards, no doubt taking advantage of what was left of daylight before the sun set.
She’d march right over, tap him on the shoulder, and when he'd undoubtedly turn around, pegging her with one of those insufferable looks that once caused her irritation but now made her knees buckle, she'd say something like, "I hope you won't think me terribly rude for saying this, but I'd quite like to kiss you right now.”
Then, before Gilbert could say anything at all, she’d swoop in and touch her lips to his.
If I wanted to kiss a boy couldn't I just...kiss him?
She was so lost in the memory of her own words that she didn’t hear the sound of footsteps approaching from behind.
“What is this place?”
The familiar voice startled Anne out of her thoughts, reflexes kicking in as she whipped around to meet the voice’s owner. She felt her foot catch between two stray pieces of wood and instantly wished she’d been more careful, crumpling to the floor as her ankle twisted unpleasantly.
Anne yelped, squeezing her eyes shut tight as pain throbbed both in her ankle and in one knee, which had connected hard with something sharp on the forest floor.
She was vaguely aware of the voice crying out her name in worry, and when she opened her eyes, Gilbert Blythe was right there in front of her.
“Ow…” she said unceremoniously as she watched his worried eyes search her face.
“Oh, Anne— I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you— I just…”
“It’s fine, Gilbert— let me just….” Anne moved to try and stand, but stumbled as a sharp pain shot up her leg.
“Here,” said Gilbert, looping an arm around around her. “Don’t put any weight on that until I get a good look at it.”
Normally, Anne would have put up a bit more of a fight, but she realized rather quickly that Gilbert was in Doctor Blythe mode and so she thought it best to just let him carry on with his diagnosis.
Supporting her weight so as not to make her injury worse, Gilbert lead Anne away from the story club ruins and over to a large rock, helping her sit before he began assessing the damage.
“Where does it hurt?” He asked, gently
“Um…it’s my right ankle mostly— I think I twisted it,” Anne said, casting her gaze down toward the injury. She took in a rip in her skirt just across where her knee would be bent had she not had it extended out in front of her. “And…and my knee. I must have banged it pretty hard on the way down.”
Gilbert nodded, eyes trailing down toward the rip Anne was looking at. He fell to his knees then, hands reaching toward her injured leg, pausing suddenly, eyes flicking back up to hers as his fingers hovered near the bottom of Anne’s dress.
“Begging your pardon, but…is it…can I…?” He trailed off, soft eyes never straying from hers, steady and sure as though with his unwavering gaze he was imploring Anne to trust him to do what he did not put into words.
A hint of pink bloomed across the apples of Gilbert’s cheeks and suddenly, the realization of what he was asking permission for hit Anne like a ton of bricks. She swallowed thickly and, not trusting herself to form coherent words, nodded her head in consent.
She stared at his hands long enough to see Gilbert’s fingers take hold of the edges of her skirts before she averted her gaze up towards the sky. Anne sent out a silent prayer then— both to the gracious heavenly father above, and to every god, goddess, and saint she’d ever read about— begging them to help her control the blush that was already creeping across her cheeks as she felt Gilbert gently lift her dress up until the material was bunched up at her thighs.
“Well, looks like you scraped your knee up pretty bad,” said Gilbert, drawing Anne’s attention from the canopy of branches she’d been staring at and down to where her stocking had split, frayed edges caked in her own blood. “Nothing we can’t fix though…”
Gilbert reached into his book bag and procured a canteen of water, which he used to clean the wound, before taking a handkerchief out of his pocket and wrapping it around Anne’s knee as a makeshift bandage.
“There,” he said, smiling up at Anne. “Good as new— now, let’s see about that ankle.”
“Thanks Doctor Blythe,” Anne teased.
“Well, I’m not a doctor quite yet…” said Gilbert as he made quick work of taking off her boot before lifting Anne’s leg.
“Let me know when you feel any pain or discomfort,” he said, fingers carefully probing against different parts of Anne’s foot.
He ducked his head to get a closer look at her swollen ankle and Anne shivered as she felt the ends of Gilbert’s hair brush deliciously against the inside of her knee.
“Still tender?” He asked.
“Yes,” she lied, knowing full well it wasn’t Gilbert’s hands that had caused her body to tremble.
“The good news is, nothing’s broken— all just the same though…” said Gilbert as he made to stand.
Anne watched on perplexed, wondering why on earth Gilbert was currently making quick work out of untucking his shirt from his trousers.
“What are you doing?!” she cried, as Gilbert swiftly tore off a long, thin strip of material from the bottom portion of his shirt.
“Well, we’ve got to wrap your ankle with something,” said Gilbert simply. “It’s likely just sprained, but I’ll feel much better about it once it’s wrapped up nice and tight."
“I understand,” said Anne evenly (even though she really didn’t). “But surely we could have found something else to wrap it with other than your shirt— it’s ruined now.”
“I have others,” shrugged Gilbert as he knelt before her again, once more taking her foot in his hands. “Besides, at least my shirt died for a worthy cause.”
“Yes, well, I’m glad my clumsiness made me a good practice dummy for your medical training,” quipped Anne. “Perhaps I’ll consider it my contribution to your future endeavors."
“As much as I appreciate you trying to help me work towards my dreams of becoming a doctor, I’m afraid I’ll have to insist you try and be more careful,” Gilbert replied. “I’d rather not have to do this again.”
She paused to watch as he expertly tied the bandage at the base of her shin before he busied himself with getting her shoe back on.
“Right, of course,” Anne said after a moment. “I expect soon you’ll be far too busy to patch me up the next time I fancy trying to get better acquainted with the ground.”
Gilbert laughed, and Anne was certain the the sheer sound of it made her heart skip a beat.
“I’ll never be too busy to patch you up. I just meant that I’d prefer you try and be more careful because I’d much rather have you stay unscathed and in once piece,” said Gilbert as he brought Anne’s dress back down from where it had been folded over on her thighs.
He rested his hands gently on both of her knees then, careful not to put much pressure on the one he’d bandaged.
“I don’t think I could bear it if I ever saw you truly injured, Anne-girl,” said Gilbert quietly, eyes boring into hers.
Anne-girl.
He’d never called her that before.
And maybe it was the way that he'd said it— with the same sort of loving care he’d been using to tend to her wounds right there in the Haunted Wood. Maybe it was the way that he was looking at her, hazel eyes swimming with an indescribable emotion she couldn’t quite place. Or maybe it was simply because Anne had spent the better part of three weeks desperately longing for Gilbert and just couldn’t take it anymore.
Maybe it was all the reasons all rolled into one. And maybe that was why, before Anne herself even realized what she was doing, she found herself leaning forward and softly pressing her lips to his.
Gilbert’s sharp intake of breath had Anne pulling back almost as quickly as she’d leaned in, and the reality of what she’d just done suddenly made her blood run cold.
“I’m sorry!” she said, fingers reflexively coming up to touch her tingling lips.
When Gilbert said nothing, Anne couldn’t restrain herself from launching into an unfiltered rant— words tumbling from her lips at such an impressive speed, it was a miracle Gilbert could keep up at all…
“It’s just that you’re so lovely and I couldn’t help it, and I’ve been driving myself crazy trying to figure out how to stop loving you but I just can’t— I can’t, Gilbert— I’ve tried. I’ve been trying so hard. I always thought that if I set my mind to do something— really set my mind to it— I could in fact do the very thing I was trying so hard to do, but apparently that rule just doesn’t apply to you, and I know that confessing my feelings for you doesn’t excuse my actions— it doesn’t make it right— but it’s the truth, and I feel as though I owe you at least that much. I don’t even know why I did it to be honest— I’ll surely regret it for the rest of my days— I guess I just…I just…”
Anne trailed off as though she’d finally done what the matron at the orphanage had always said she would and talked herself plumb out of words.
“You…just…?” Gilbert prompted.
Anne cast her eyes down to her lap as if her hands, which she’d been wringing nervously over the course of her entire rant, were the most interesting thing in the world. It had been easy to hold Gilbert’s gaze in earnest when she’d been talking so fast she could barely understand what it was she was even trying to say herself. But she couldn’t bear to give him the same courtesy for this next bit.
“I just…needed to know what it would feel like— just once,” Anne confessed vulnerably. “But I shouldn’t have done it, and I’m so very sorry, Gilbert. And if you want, we can forget this ever happened and never speak of it. I promise I won’t do it again.”
Gilbert said nothing, and the silence was so deafening it made Anne’s eyes water. She pinched her wrist, willing the tears back as she focused intently on the pinprick of pain her fingers were causing and the way the flesh beneath her nails kept turning deeper shades of red.
Her concentration was disrupted by Gilbert’s own hands slowly creeping into her line of vision. They didn’t stop until they’d taken ahold of Anne’s, willing her to stop manipulating the skin she’d been pinching rather forcefully.
Anne watched as one of his thumbs made slow passes over the angry red spot she’d created on her wrist. She didn’t feel as though she was deserving of Gilbert’s kindness right at this very moment, but at the same time she was too selfish to deny herself of it.
“Anne…” whispered Gilbert.
“Yes?” she replied just as quietly, still unable to make eye contact.
“Anne, look at me..."
Anne steadied herself, summoning all the courage she could muster, before finally lifting her eyes up to meet his.
"Anne-girl, you are the fond object of my affection and my desire," Gilbert said ardently. "Do you know how long I've been desperately hoping you might have feelings for me?"
"What?" Anne croaked, her brain still trying to wrap itself around Gilbert’s profession.
Then it was Gilbert who was leaning in and kissing her with so much fervor it left Anne feeling breathless as her heart hammered away in her chest. And the last coherent thought Anne had before her mind went blissfully blank was that Gilbert was more than worth the mixed bag of emotions she’d been lugging around like a deadweight over the past few weeks, because she was so irrevocably in love with him.
And also because by some strangely beautiful miracle, Gilbert loved her too-- and the knowledge of that felt even better than anything she could have ever dreamt up or imagined...
--
It was a long while before Gilbert finally pulled away and though Anne was pretty sure she could have carried on kissing him forever, her lungs were certainly grateful for the reprieve.
She sighed contently as Gilbert's forehead bent to rest against hers, relishing in the closeness.
"How long?" he asked quietly.
"Hmm?"
"Earlier when you were explaining-- you said you'd been driving yourself crazy trying to figure out how to stop loving me," said Gilbert. "I was just wondering how long you've felt this way."
"Three weeks--well, consciously-- I expect I've been loving you subconsciously for much longer than that," said Anne through a giggle. "You?"
"I feel like I've been loving you my whole life," said Gilbert earnestly.
"Impossible-- I only came to Avonlea a few years ago— you’ve lived longer without my presence than with it," Anne countered.
"Oh, but you see, Carrots, I'm fairly certain I only thought I was living before when in reality, I think my life only really started the day we met."
"You've known since that day in the forest when you asked me if I had any dragons that needed slaying?" she asked, brows raised in slight disbelief.
"I knew I liked you then," Gilbert said, unabashedly. "But I knew I loved you the moment you smacked me across the face with your chalkboard."
Anne laughed, letting her head drop to his shoulder as her cheeks flushed at the memory of how awful she'd been to him.
"That first day....when you came out to bring me that apple at lunch?" Anne began.
“I remember…” Gilbert said, pressing a featherlight kiss to her temple.
"I wanted to take it-- to talk to you-- to be friends," she confessed.
"Why didn't you?"
"Some stupid rule about dibs-- seems silly now," said Anne, playing with the collar on his shirt. "I wish I had though. I could have saved us both so much heartache.…”
"It doesn't matter," said Gilbert, tracing the freckles on her cheek with gentle fingers. "We're here now. Although, I feel I must warn you-- now that I've got you, I hope you know I don't have any intentions of letting you go."
"I like the sound of that." Anne smiled.
He dropped a quick kiss to her lips and Anne thought that perhaps Gilbert had planned to pick up where they'd left off. Which is why she was incredibly surprised when he stood, dusting the dirt from his trousers before moving to help her up as well.
“Come on,” he said, mindful of Anne's injured leg as he looped an arm around her waist.
“Where are we going?” She asked.
“We’re going to find Matthew and Marilla,” said Gilbert simply.
Anne dug her good foot into the ground, effectively stopping Gilbert from going further.
“I have no idea why you’re thinking of them at a time like this— as much as I love them both,” said Anne, snaking her arms around his waist as she stepped closer. “I think I’d much rather stay out here with you…”
She stood on her tip toes then, emphasizing her words with a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth— thrilled over the realization that she could do that whenever she wanted to now.
Unable to resist, Gilbert kissed her back for a moment before begrudgingly pulling away once more.
“As much as I’d love to keep you all to myself, I’m afraid I must insist we go and find your parents,” he said.
Realizing that for whatever reason Gilbert would not be deterred, Anne gave in and allowed him to continue helping her down the path toward home.
“So, are you going to tell me why it’s so important we go and find Matthew and Marilla right at this moment?”
"Like I said, now that I’ve got you I have no intentions of ever letting you go,” said Gilbert, smiling. “And even though I’d be more than happy to throw propriety out the window and marry you right now, I have a sneaking suspicion the Cuthberts wouldn’t ever agree to that. So...I figured we’d better do this right.”
Gilbert stared at her then, eyes searching Anne's face for a moment as though trying to gauge the effect his talk of marriage had had on her. Once satisfied that Anne did not seem to be running for the hills as fast as her injured ankle would allow, he took her hands in his and continued.
“I intend to ask Marilla and Matthew for permission to court you-- as soon as we graduate from Avonlea if possible....” Gilbert said slowly. “That is…if you’ll allow me to court you, Anne?”
Anne said nothing, instead lifting their joint hands to press a kiss to the back of his. It was all the assurance Gilbert needed to know that her answer was yes.
"In that case, we'd better hurry back-- I expect we'll have better luck if Marilla isn't cross over the fact that I'm not back in time to help out with dinner," said Anne, beaming up at him.
"Guess I'd better make quick work of getting you home then," Gilbert replied.
Anne barely had time to register the impish grin on his face before Gilbert swiftly scooped her up off of her feet and into his arms.
"Gilbert!" Anne yelped in shock, arms clinging to his neck.
"What?" He asked innocently.
"I can still walk you know!" Anne said, wriggling in his arms.
"Of course," he said, tightening his hold. "But I did say I was going to make quick work of getting you home-- even you can't deny this'll be much quicker."
"Well... alright then," Anne surrendered. "But just this once!"
"Just this once..." Gilbert appeased before finally setting off in the direction of Green Gables.
EPILOGUE
Years later, after Anne had finished her studies at Redmond, the happy couple found themselves back in Avonlea. Gilbert had asked Anne to marry him just the day before and to celebrate their engagement, he’d proposed an afternoon outing— just the two of them.
“I thought it might be a nice day for a picnic,” he said, leading Anne up a grassy slope.
Gilbert dropped Anne’s hand once they reached the top, setting out the blanket he’d brought to make sure Anne had somewhere to sit before he busied himself with pulling food out of the basket he’d been carrying.
Anne was quiet as she watched Gilbert set up the spread, eyes glancing around at the spot he’d picked, wondering why it looked so familiar when suddenly it came to her.
It wasn't until Gilbert was seated beside her that he noticed Anne sitting stiffly as a blush creeped across her face.
“What is it?” He asked curiously.
“Nothing— it’s just…never mind— it’s nothing!”
“Anne…” Gilbert started, "You know if you don't tell me I'll just assume the worst and fret over you for days..."
"Promise you won't laugh?"
Gilbert mimed crossing his heart, eyes urging her to continue.
"Well, you see, the thing is..."
And so it was that Anne told Gilbert about the dream she'd had of the two of them— set in this very field— all those years ago. She peeked over at Gilbert once she was finished and he cocked his head to the side in return as though deep in contemplation.
“Fine, I take it back— you can laugh if you want to,” said Anne, more to break the silence than anything else.
Gilbert didn’t laugh though— instead, quick as a cat, he pounced, pulling her towards him before reclining into the grass.
Anne let out an undignified squeak and Gilbert an “oof!” as she landed a little too hard on top of him.
“Serves you right!” Anne huffed, swatting at his chest but making no move to get off.
“An elbow to the ribs is small price to pay if it means turning your dreams into reality,” he replied, throwing in a wink for good measure.
"Is that what you're on about?" Anne laughed.
"Well, I figured it's the least I could do..." Gilbert replied.
He rolled them over then, (carefully) so he was braced above Anne, before swooping down to kiss her thoroughly.
“So, Carrots…” Gilbert murmured some time later, brushing a loose red strand of hair away from her face. “Did I live up to the version of me in your dreams?”
“No,” whispered Anne, tangling her fingers into his dark curls and drawing his mouth back down to hers. “You’re even better.”