Chapter Text
“I’ve been talking you up to my friends at the Sorbonne…”
“With the right test scores and financial backing, you could be there come fall…”
“If my daughter is happy, then so I am I…”
“If you’re awaiting my blessing son, it’s granted…”
These were the words that had been echoing in Gilbert’s mind ever since he’d left Charlottetown. Even now, as he draws near the ruins, the loud cheers of his school friends do nothing to drown out the memory of what Mr. Rose had said to him just a few hours prior.
Winifred was lovely in every sense of the word. The Sorbonne was his dream— so why was he hesitating? Why couldn’t he say anything in return one way or the other when Mr. Rose had all but held the future Gilbert thought he’d always wanted out for him to reach out and take, no questions asked?
Gilbert had spent the entirety of the train ride back to Avonlea, plus his walk through the forest, convincing himself he had absolutely no idea why he was second-guessing everything.
This was a lie, of course. Because Gilbert knew exactly what it was that was holding him back— or rather, who.
And as he rounds the bend, ruins now in sight, it’s as if the universe knows it too. Because there, atop a raised wooden platform just a few feet away from him, stands Anne bathed in the firelight. And his heart lurches as he watches her twirl freely where she stands, arms stretched up toward the sky, glorious red hair billowing in the cool night air— like a fiery angel sent straight from heaven with the sole purpose of coveting his heart.
Gilbert can’t move— can’t breathe, as he watches her like a man parched who can’t satiate the unquenchable thirst no matter how long he stands there drinking in the sight of her. And so he looks on as Diana tugs her down, presses a bottle of moonshine into her hands, waits for his angel of fire to take a good, long drink, before pulling her into a game of red rover…
For all she’d had to drink that night, it’s a miracle that Anne manages to break through the linked arms of Jane and Ruby. Her victory comes with a price though, for the momentum she’s used to break through to freedom causes her to stumble, and she laughs as she tumbles unceremoniously onto the soft earth below.
Ruby and Diana are at her side before Gilbert can make his way over, and Anne holds a hand up as though to assure her friends she’s not done herself any permanent damage.
“Don’t mind me— I’ll be alright once the room stops spinning,” Anne says, lying back onto the floor. “It’s actually quite nice down here— I think I’ll just rest my eyes a bit…”
“The room?! Anne, we’re outside, you silly goose!” Ruby giggles, kneeling down by her side.
“Hmm?” Anne stirs as Ruby gives her shoulder a little shake.
“So we are!” she giggles.
“How much has she had to drink?” Gilbert asks.
“I don’t even know how much I’ve had to drink,” Ruby replies unhelpfully.
“Maybe we should take her home…” offers up Diana, clearly sobering up quick given that the situation seems to demand it.
“What about the Cuthberts? They can’t see her like this— Marilla will have her head.”
“They’ve gone to Nova Scotia to see a specialist about Miss Cuthbert’s eye troubles. They won’t be back until tomorrow,” Diana assures him. “I can walk back with her.”
“No no no!” Anne interjects, shakes her head vigorously. “Don’t stop the celebration on my account— I couldn’t bare it!”
“Stay, Diana— I can take her home— it’s on my way anyway,” Gilbert offers.
“Yes! Gilbert can take me home— Gilbert can…when did you get here?” Anne shoots him a puzzled look as she notes his presence for the first time.
“Just now,” Gilbert holds a hand out to help her up. “Can you stand?"
Anne ignores it, hoisting herself off the floor before making a big show of throwing her arms out. “Ta-da!”
The girls clap as though Anne has just delivered the performance of a lifetime, and when she loses her footing a bit as she curtsies in response to the cheers, Gilbert’s hand shoots out to steady her.
“Okay,” Gilbert chuckles. “I think that’s enough of an encore for tonight— what do you say we get you back to Green Gables?”
He takes advantage of the grip he’s got on her forearm to draw her closer and loop her arm through his so he can start them off down the path toward home.
“Farewell my fair maidens! I’ll miss you all something terrible!” Anne cries out, blowing kisses in the direction of her friends, as Gilbert pulls her away from the raucous gathering. “I shall, of course, miss you most of all, my darling Diana— until we meet again!”
“You…” Anne says once when they find themselves among the trees. “missed a great party!”
“I’ve noticed,” Gilbert says, eyeing her affectionately. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.”
“I am too— s’not the same when you’re not around.”
He turns his head to look at her, a single eyebrow quirking up in response to what she’s just said, loving that the moonshine has done nothing to quell Anne’s penchant for speaking her mind. “Carrots…are you trying to tell me that you miss me when I’m gone?”
“One…you’re not supposed to call me that," Anne retorts as she jostles her shoulder into his (whether by accident, or on purpose, Gilbert will never know…)
“Two…if this is news to you you’re clearly not as smart as everyone thinks you are, Gilbert Blythe— do you think I would have bothered to write while you were off traveling the world if I hadn’t?"
She claps her free hand over her mouth and lets out a gasp. “Oh no— did I say that out loud?!”
“Don't go trying to take it back now,” he goads.
“Ugh! You’re the wooorrrst!”
Gilbert laughs heartily, enjoying the comfortable familiarity of their rapport. It’s almost enough to make him forget he's walking her home because she’s had too much to drink, and not just because he very much enjoys her company. But Anne’s slurred speech and her current inability to walk in a straight line serve as a great reminder of her inebriated state.
“D’you know what else you missed because you were late to the party? All my brilliant jokes!” She says as they continue down the path. “Like, why does it take a pirate so long to learn the alphabet?”
Anne doesn't wait for him to answer before launching straight into the punchline. “Because he spent years at C! Get it, Gilbert? Get it?”
She laughs uncontrollably at her own joke and Gilbert can't help but join her.
She tells him another, and another, and another until they’ve reached the side entrance of her house.
Anne lets go of his arm to fiddle with the key and unlock the door. She’s not been gone from his side for a second and he already misses her previous closeness.
Gilbert’s not ready to say goodbye, and his heart thumps wildly in his chest at the realization that doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready to say goodbye to Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. He’d have to figure out how to though, if he chose a life with Winifred. And suddenly, Mr. Rose’s words are back, ricochetting around in his head.
It’s Anne’s hands reaching out to grab either side of his face that pulls him away from the convoluted thoughts running through his mind. She cocks her head to the side as she studies his features for a moment before she slides her fingers down and pulls the corners of his mouth up into a forced smile. Gilbert hadn’t even realized he’d been frowning.
“What are you doing?” he laughs, Anne’s antics coaxing a real smile out of him.
“You looked sad…I don’t like it when you’re sad,” she says softly. “Were my pirate jokes that terrible?”
“No,” Gilbert says quietly. “I like your terrible jokes."
“Is it the entrance exam?” Anne asks. “I’m sure you did splendidly.”
“It’s not the exam…it’s…”
There's a clarity in Anne's eyes that hasn't been there the whole time they've been together tonight-- as though her concern for him is working overtime to battle the effects of the alcohol in her bloodstream. And maybe that's what prompts Gilbert to do it-- to ask if he can speak with her for a moment before he heads off in the direction of his house.
Anne’s hands drop from his cheeks and she wastes no time in waving him inside. She gestures for him to sit at the kitchen table before flopping down across from him, pegging him with a serious expression as she waits patiently for him to tell her what's wrong.
And then, before Gilbert can stop himself, the events of his night come pouring out.
“Then her father laid it out on a sliver platter…the Sorbonne, Paris, the money to do it— my future if I want it…permission…to propose,” he explains. “I don’t know what to do.”
“It’s everything you want isn’t it?” Anne says bluntly. “I don’t understand…what’s holding you back?”
“Just…one thing.”
Anne’s breathing heavily now, her chest heaving as she struggles to catch her breath as the true meaning of Gilbert’s words wash over her. She flinches away when he tries to lay a hand on her arm in favor of standing so quickly she has to steady herself on the wall behind her.
“Gilbert, you can’t just say something like that and expect me to…what am I supposed to…and everyone, everyone is…and now you just…and I’m so, soooo— you let me tell you pirate jokes all night for Christs sake!” Anne bursts out. “I can’t…I can’t…”
“Anne...” Gilbert starts before she cuts him off.
“I can’t do this Gilbert— you….you just show yourself out!” she cries as she stumbles for the stairs.
Gilbert follows despite Anne’s protest, fearing that she might just come toppling down if he doesn’t spot her.
"He doesn't even get it," he hears her mumble under her breath. "He doesn't even know how long I've...and he doesn't understand why I-- I--"
For a moment Gilbert thinks she doesn’t even realize he’s right behind her, that is until she rounds on him once they’ve both made it up to the landing.
“D’you wanna know what the worst thing is?" Anne asks, words slurred as she pauses a few steps away from him, whirling around so she can face him square on before she continues.
“The worst thing…” Anne starts before pausing. She’s swaying a little on her feet due to her sudden movements, and Gilbert makes to steady her, one hand reaching out to grab her shoulder. She swats him away before he can.
“The worst thing is that I fucking love you.”
Anne pokes him square in the center of his chest when she says it. There’s not much force behind the action, but to Gilbert, it feels as though she may as well have just shot him straight through the heart.
"Did you hear me?" she asks when Gilbert says nothing in return. "I said I fucking love you Gilbert Blythe-- in spite of everything-- in spite of the fact that I know that I shouldn’t.”
His mouth goes dry at Anne’s declaration. It's all he's ever wanted to hear her say-- but not like this. Not after he's caused her so much distress.
"Why shouldn't you?" he chokes out.
“Because it’s easier if I don’t! Because it’ll ruin everything! Because you have Winifred, and Paris, and the Sorbonne, and it's all waiting for you!”
She draws in a rattled breath before she continues. “Because even though most of me thinks you should go, there’s still a small piece of me that wants to tell you to pick me instead— to love me instead.”
Gilbert can’t think. He can’t breathe. And the more Anne stands there, drunkenly spilling her heart out, the more it feels as though his is shattering…
“Isn’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard, Gil?” Anne’s voice is a whisper now, her eyes wide with fear. “That there’s a part of me that’s so wickedly selfish, it would have you throw everything else away?”
“What if I want to throw it all away?”
It takes all the strength Gilbert has to let his declaration hang there in the silence between them as he waits for Anne to say something— anything in return.
Desperately, he finds himself hoping that she’ll put him out of his misery and tell him she takes it back— not the ‘I love you,’ but the part about how her love will ruin everything.
He wants to tell her that it would do no such thing— that her love could never do anything but make everything better. And suddenly, Gilbert starts to wonder how he could have ever been stupid enough to convince himself (or Anne for that matter) that there was even a choice to be made here. There was never a choice because it had always, and would always be Anne for him.
He wants to say all of this, but the words get stuck in his throat and suddenly, Anne’s opening her mouth to respond and so, Gilbert stays quiet, thinking that he at least owes her the courtesy of letting her speak first.
“Gilbert, I…”
“Yes?”
“I…I…think I’m going to be sick” is all Anne chokes out before she actually does get sick all over the floor between them.
Gilbert doesn’t think twice before kneeling down next to her, holding her hair back with one hand while the other rubs soothing circles across Anne’s back.
“Go away!— Don’t look!--“ Anne gasps in between retching up the contents of her stomach.
Gilbert does eventually leave her side— but only to fetch a few washcloths for cleaning up, and a cup of water. He helps her wipe her mouth before holding the cup up to her lips, which Anne finally accepts after a few feeble attempts of pushing both the water and Gilbert away.
He figures there’s something to be said for the philosophy of better out than in, but he starts to panic when a choked wail escapes from Anne’s lips.
“What’s wrong— do you need to throw up some more?”
“I’m tired, Gil— I’m just so tired— of everything.” she sobs as she slumps against the wall.
His heart breaks at the realization that he's the source of her heartache. It takes another moment for Gilbert to realize that despite the tears streaming down her cheeks, the alcohol has now caused Anne to doze off.
“I’m sorry…I messed this up so bad, didn’t I?” he whispers, reaching out to gently wipe the tear stains from her face.
Anne stirs, but the steady rise and fall of her chest clues Gilbert into the fact that she really has fallen asleep right there on the floor of the hallway. And so he does the only logical thing he can think of and picks her up, one arm under the bend of her knees, the other holding her upper body close to his chest.
He lays her gently on the bed when they reach her room, carefully removing both of her boots before pulling the blankets up over her and taking a seat at her side. He can’t help himself from brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face, frowning at the way Anne’s brows furrow when she feels his fingertips graze against her forehead.
She doesn’t wake, but a mumbled string of words falling from her lips has Gilbert feeling as though all the air has been sucked straight out of his lungs.
“Don’t…Gil….marry…me…”
It’s the last thing she says before the only sound left in the room is that of her steady breathing. The ache he first felt when she told him she loved him is back, piercing his chest with such fervor, Gilbert finds himself rubbing at the spot right over where his heart lies under his ribcage.
"You've really put your foot in it now, Blythe." He mutters to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose.
He doesn't know how yet, but he's going to set things right with Anne if it's the last thing he does. He'll start with heading straight over to Charlottetown at first light to tell Winifred that he can't marry her-- not when his heart already belongs to someone else.
Before he leaves, Gilbert steals down to the Cuthbert’s kitchen to write Anne a letter— does his best to let the contents of his heart seep into the ink and pour out onto the blank page before him. When he’s done, he folds it up and clips it to the pen she’d let him borrow just a few days prior before quietly bounding back upstairs to place both pen and note on her nightstand.
He can only hope it’ll be enough for now…