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It was the last thing that she had expected to see on the other side of the door, her heart jolting violently inside of her chest. It was one thing to see him in her dreams every night, and it was another to have him standing in front of her in a bulky winter jacket, scarf tied around his neck in order to keep warm. Her body started heating up as if she was being boiled from the inside, rich anger swirling through her veins. It made her so angry, how he could just stand there looking at her in such a way and with that stupid chin. How he could be stood in front of her as if nothing had ever happened, as if he had not brutally torn apart her heart with a pitchfork and ignored the contents of her letter (which practically included the contents of her entire heart). And worst of all, he looked absolutely fine. He did not take in a stuttered breath at the sight of her, he was simply there with a polite smile while she almost stumbled back, part of her wanting to scream - no, not you, you're not supposed to be here. Her lungs started to burn and she had to remind herself to breathe, his eyebrows starting to pull together tightly as if he was wondering why she wasn't letting them inside.
When he started to take a step forward, she slammed the door right in his face.
"Anne Shirley-Cuthbert!"
She made a beeline through the parlor and entered the kitchen, hearing heavy footsteps behind her. Once she heard Matthew opening the door on the other side of the house, she turned and hissed, "Why is he here? Y-You never told me that he was going to be here with them, I-I-"
Marilla huffed, placing her hands on her hips. "I told you that we had three guests coming over for Christmas dinner."
"Precisely!" Anne argued, counting the names off on her fingers with panicked eyes, "Bash, Delphine and Elijah."
She received a sigh in return, "Elijah has gone to visit Mary's friends in The Bog, he hopes to make amends with them after his mistakes. I told you about it last night but I now assume that you were not listening after all! I know you might have been a little bit surprised, but you cannot shut the door in their faces, they are our guests."
"Marilla, you don't understand..." Anne cried out, "...I-I didn't know that he was going to be here and-"
They both stiffened at the sound of nearby voices and Marilla turned back to her adoptive daughter, raising her eyebrows. "Anne, you brought your own guest for dinner tonight and I don't see how that is any different."
"Charles has nowhere else to go!" she argued in a hushed voice, looking nervously to the other side of the room that led to the dining table, "...that is completely different. I wasn't aware of his family's situation and I only felt it fair to invite him to our Christmas so that he wasn't left alone at his own boarding house. But Gilbert-"
"Gilbert is practically family" Marilla reminded her in a stern tone, "...I suggest that you go back out there and apologize to our guests. I'll have to tell them that you were worried about the food burning."
Anne's face turned blank as she looked down at the floor.
It took a moment for her to realize the truth behind the situation but once she did, Marilla's resolve weakened as she placed a hand on Anne's shoulder, "I know it might be difficult to see him, but you cannot avoid him forever...especially not when he is staying for dinner! I'm sure that it will be okay and in time, you'll start to feel better about how things worked out."
"I-I'm fine. I just didn't expect him to be back..." she sniffed defiantly, blaming it on the winter breeze, "...I assumed that he would still be in Paris."
Marilla's eyebrows furrowed, "You two really haven't spoken at all?"
Anne shook her head sadly.
"When I spoke to Miss Stacey last week, she told me that Gilbert ended up at the University of Toronto. She said that she wasn't sure of the details behind the last minute change, but it seems that he never made it to Paris after all."
Her voice turned rough and bitter, "I'm sure that his lovely fiance did nothing but support his decision."
Marilla let out a forlorn sigh, sympathy settling on her face as she glanced back towards the hallway, "Come on, let's welcome them in."
Anne had never found such simple words so difficult to swallow. It sounded easy enough, to walk across the room and look him straight in the eyes, but then maybe it wouldn't be so hard if her heart wasn't still bleeding. Perhaps she would find it effortless if her shoulders didn't still tense at the sound of his name. It was just another name, known to many others, but there she was - feeling sick to her stomach because of seven letters. After all, she knew that those seven letters meant nothing until he tumbled into her universe and gave them meaning. She refused to notice the way that his own hands were fidgeting, or that he was wearing that stupid black suit that was once illuminated with the light of a bonfire. But oh god, as soon as their eyes met, she nearly fell to her knees. He had the nerve to smile at her like they were nothing more than old school chums, and her lips clamped together so that she didn't say something that she would soon forget. Anne had never thought of herself as anything less than strong and independent, but perhaps she had just been tricking herself all along. His eyes looked the same as they always had, intense and warm and she wanted nothing more than to let out a terrible sob.
If you don't take your stupid eyes off me, she wanted to snap at him, I'll whack another slate straight over your head.
When she first entered the room, Gilbert wanted to compare her eyelashes to butterflies. He wanted to hold up the sweet apples from his orchard against her flushed cheeks, or ask how her eyes managed to hold all of the destructive beauty of a storm. As she stepped closer to them, he wanted to look up to the heavens and plead for mercy. There she was, stood with her chin sticking upwards, pointedly deciding not to look in his direction. A few extra inches of velvet fabric flowed down to the floor in the most beautiful cerulean blue, a dress that he had never seen but wouldn't soon forget. She looked so different with her hair partially up and with a defined shape that he had never let himself notice before - yet she was still somehow so Anne. She had the same splattered freckles, the same bounce to her walk, and she still made him want to recite poetry. He had never been focused on the importance of color, but his eyes would not stray away from the river of fire that spilled down her back. He had to stop his fidgeting hands from tracing the red tendrils across her neck and down to her shoulder blades sprouting like wings from her pale skin. Instead, he stood there like a fool and smiled stupidly at her.
God, it's good to see her, his own thoughts retorted, maybe this will be easier than I thought it would be.
If he was being honest with himself, he had been expecting his heart to crack at the mere sight of her. Oh, it was still there in his chest, aching at the thought of her being so close yet so far away. It was aching at the thought of never being able to call her his, and more than anything, he wanted to be hers. But deep down to his veins, he knew that he would always be Anne Shirley-Cuthbert's, for she had ruined him and nobody else would take him now that his heart belonged solely to her. Despite the constant throbbing in his chest, he couldn't be anything other than grateful to see her standing in front of him.
"Anne, aren't you going to introduce your guest?"
His face fell, maybe not.
---
The clouds were just beginning to part when Anne Shirley-Cuthbert found herself another kindred spirit. It had been raining all day and Mrs Blackmore had been keeping her residents inside so that they did not fall ill. But as soon as the raindrops grew lighter, the red-head was running out of the door to complete her exploring of Charlottetown, continuing her search to find if she could ever truly call such a place home. She soon found herself bumping into a familiar face from one of her first classes, almost hitting him in the face with her parasol. Charles Miller was one of the tallest people that she had ever met, complete with a lanky build and rich golden hair that reminded her of summer corn. The pair had never found themselves indulging in conversation before, but that day - they couldn't stop talking. Charles was a like able character that made her feel less strange and while others gave her odd looks, he often found himself laughing along when he heard about whatever grand scheme she had gotten herself involved in.
Smile, Gilbert tried to remind himself, he seems nice.
He sat there at the dinner table, listening to the pair tell stories of their many adventures, trying not to glare at how Anne's hand would frequently place itself absentmindedly on her suitor's arm. He told his face to smile but it was coming out as more of a grimace, fingers tightening around his fork. It was true that he had no reason to feel any ownership over her, she was not an object and he knew that she would never truly belong to anyone but herself. But he would be lying to himself if he didn't want to reach across the table and place his own hand over hers, begging her to explain how he had got it all so wrong. There was a heaviness in his bones and he had never felt so powerless, sitting there with the punishment of having to watch her smile at another man in such a way. It wasn't that he didn't want to see her happy, in fact there was nothing in the world that he wanted more than to hear her laugh like that every day. She deserved love more than anyone he knew and he was trying so hard to convince himself that he was okay with someone else earning her love. But there was a nagging feeling inside of his chest that told him, if he didn't act like such a fool for so long, maybe he would be the one sitting beside her, making her laugh like that. There was no other word for it, he just felt miserable.
"So Charles, why aren't you spending Christmas with your own family?" his words came out harsher than he wanted.
"Gilbert!" Anne hissed.
He met her eyes for the first time that night and realized that it was only so that she could glare at him with disappointment, his shoulders slumping immediately. Well done, Blythe, he muttered to himself, make her hate you more.
"It's okay..." Charles smiled politely, sending Anne a comforting glance when she mouthed an apology, "...my family are visiting relatives overseas this year, I was planning on spending the holidays inside my boarding house as I couldn't join them but Anne was kind enough to invite me to join you all instead. I must say that it's better than being alone, even if you aren't just with your own family, don't you agree?"
An unpleasant feeling filled his stomach, speaking through clenched teeth, "The Cuthbert's will always be part of my family...", he softened his voice and received a fond smile from Marilla and a nod from Matthew, "...whether proven on paper or not."
"You could always marry Anne."
There was an awkward silence that instantly settled in the air, everyone deciding to focus on their plates for the first time. But across the table, two eyes met in the middle. The same thought was exchanged, a tragical tale of a golden ring that was destined for a different finger, such a small object that created such a huge divide between them. It was a story of everything that they were and everything that they could ever be, the intertwined paths separating along the way until they were no longer headed in the same direction.
Charles backtracked slightly, putting on an amused tone, "Well, I...I just meant that if you two got married, it would make you family on paper, right?"
"Well, that would never happen" Anne snapped, almost cutting him off instantly. The atmosphere was heavy between them and she finally met his eyes, raising a single eyebrow to challenge him into disagreeing, the memory of his beautiful fiance in her mind.
He clenched his jaw, the memory of his letter on her dresser still fresh in his mind, "Clearly not."
Gilbert had never been much of a fictional reader, but he knew a thing or two about those books. He knew that it wasn't as straight forward as it seemed - that sometimes the entire world would fall away if you found yourself getting lost in a beautiful story. He knew that if the book touched your soul in the correct way, that it would leave a strange feeling within your heart after finishing it - as if the real world around you suddenly felt unrecognizable. In really special cases, you would find a book that changed your entire world - a story stitched into the lining of your soul. It was not always easy to find that book, and sometimes it would feel different after reading it over and over - as if the plot had changed completely into something that no longer made your heart hum along to the words. There was simply so much hidden between the expanse of a few pages, something very special encompassed between the cover - a completely different universe.
When he first met Anne, she had touched a small part of his heart, right at the back so that he could barely recognize it. He somehow knew that she would be a story worth remembering, a book that he would constantly pull down from the shelf to go back to - something that held a particular lesson for him to learn. Over time it seemed challenging as they never saw eye to eye, as if she was going to be placed at the back of the bookcase, forgotten and left to collect dust. But as soon as he saw her dancing in the firelight - he recognized her, he knew. He knew deep down in his heart that she was that story - the special kind of story that would always make the world disappear around him.
He just didn't expect their story to end so soon.
"So, Charles..." Gilbert tried to keep his tone light and his smile friendly, "...is Anne still as competitive as she always was?"
"She was always that competitive?" her friend nudged her in reply, "...I think she scares most people in our class enough, she doesn't even need to study all of her hours away."
Anne managed a small laugh, rolling her eyes.
"She almost fell out of her chair by how high she was raising her hand whenever we were asked a question", he chuckled and glanced at her, "...whenever I would get picked first to answer, she would just glare at me for the rest of the day. I kept trying to tell her that it wasn't my fault, but she just threatened to smack her slate over my head again."
"Again?" Charles' eyes widened, leaning forward in his seat, "...now, I've got to hear this story."
Anne narrowed her eyes across the table, fighting the urge to shrink down in her seat and hide from the world, "Gilbert, you don't need to-"
"I'm just making conversation..." he protested quietly, his face falling.
She looked away, gritting her teeth.
Marilla stood up, brushing off her skirt hem with a tense smile, "How about I get my plum puffs out of the oven?"
What do you think you're doing? Anne wanted to scream across the table, how can you just sit there and be so friendly? Her eyes were glaring at him harshly, wondering how he could be acting so nonchalant, exchanging pleasantries and stories of their school days. Although it had only been a few short months ago, she knew that things had changed between them a long time ago, and they had been ignoring them in the hopes that it would just go away. But she couldn't pretend anymore, she couldn't pretend that she hadn't been hoping that he would storm across the table, begging for forgiveness and fighting for her honour. Instead, he was being polite and it was killing her.
"I uh...I always used to get Anne to look at my essays for me...", Gilbert chuckled sadly as he picked up a plum puff, "...she never had any trouble telling me when I was doing something wrong."
Anne scoffed and muttered under her breath, "It wasn't hard when you got so much wrong."
Gilbert met her eyes, "I guess you could say that we were always on the wrong page."
"Completely different pages" she retorted, hiding her distaste behind an almost too-bright smile.
Gilbert straightened up slightly, furrowing his eyebrows at her tone and intense gaze. He felt heat creeping down his neck, a familiar irritated frown taking over his face as he thought back to the night at the ruins. "Well, Anne here..." he started in a bitter tone, ignoring Bash's warning glance, "...always used to tell me that I rambled too much in my essays, that I wasted time and avoided the question but I think that she always made the same mistake."
Anne bristled, "Maybe I wasn't avoiding the question, Gilbert-"
"And in the end, I think that maybe my words were too forward..." he retorted, scowling at her.
"Or maybe the question was never clear enough!" she snapped.
Marilla ran a hand across her face.
"So what would you determine as being clear enough?" he challenged, leaning across the table slightly, "...getting it all out in the open, like leaving a note...a letter, for example?"
"Precisely!" she spat.
Gilbert shook his head, "Well, I wouldn't say that you find letters clear enough, because some people even go as far as ignoring them!"
"Well, maybe some people were still waiting for their answer..." she clenched her fists on the table, glaring at him, "...and they didn't want such...important contents...to be dissected on paper! Maybe some people couldn't give them an answer to face to face because they were too scared."
Matthew glanced anxiously around the table.
"Too scared?" he seethed, "...what if there was never a question in the first place? What answer would they be looking for?"
"You know which one!"
"Maybe some people are just too scared to take a risk!" Gilbert argued as he tilted his head, "...maybe they just always run away and make up lies so that they don't have to admit what was right in front of them all-"
"And what was right in front of them?" she exploded, throwing her hands up in the air, "...everything that they ever wanted, the perfect future written on paper? How could someone not be scared of coming between two people that have their future written out, someone with a sparkling ring in their future!"
"Anne, I-I...what are you even talking about?"
"Your mother's ring that she is now-"
"I never proposed!"
The air was so brittle that it could snap, twisting and tugging painfully just like the thin thread that they were hanging by. No one spoke - and what was there to say? Marilla resisted the urge to bury her head into her hands, Bash looked lost for words for once, Matthew desperately wanted to escape to the barn and Charles just looked extremely confused. But the two eyes that were locked across the table, they were the most lost. They had both run out of steam, shoulders heaving as they tried to collect themselves, sitting there dumbfounded. Neither knew what to say, trapped in this moment that could either make or break everything in seconds. Anne kept opening her mouth and then closing it as if she couldn't navigate through all of her clustered thoughts, while Gilbert was just tired of fighting.
"I-I...I think we better start cleaning up" Marilla finally instructed.
Bash stood up quietly with Delphine in his arms, "I'll help you."
"I-I...barn."
Anne shot up from the table like a lightning bolt, almost knocking her chair over completely on her way over to him. She grasped Gilbert's sleeve and pulled him up with all of her might, not leaving any room for argument. Nobody bothered to say anything to stop them, watching with wary eyes as she headed straight for the door with him stumbling along. "I need to talk to Gilbert."
They ended up right underneath the cherry tree beneath her window, the lovely Snow Queen watching over them, blossoms falling down like sprinkles of possibilities. Anne swallowed her pride and turned to face him, her eyes softer than they were before as he automatically shrugged off his jacket. He wrapped it around her shoulders gently and for once, she didn't try to fight him, just watched as he took a step back and heaved a sigh. His guard was up and she knew why, because the walls that she had tried to build around her heart were higher than ever. She looked up wistfully at the moon, wishing for it to pass on some of its strength, suddenly wondering how it still rose within such darkness every single night when Anne could barely keep herself standing. Not when he was standing in front of her, hands within the pockets of his dark trousers, shoulders tense and closed off. While his body language warned her to stay far away, he searched her face as if he was trying to find all the answers to the universe within her eyes. His shoulders lifted up slightly as if he was going to shrug, to question if it was all worth it, and she had a sudden urge to keep him standing there - to keep fighting.
"I-I don't understand..." she finally mumbled, "...I thought you were engaged. You came to me that night at the ruins and practically told me that you were, that you were going to-"
Gilbert scowled at her. "Anne, I-I can't take it. Just stop lying I-"
"I'm not lying!" she argued, "...how was I supposed to know when you never even spoke to me or told me otherwise?"
He shook his head, looking down at the ground beneath them, "How could you not know? I wrote it in my letter, was that not clear enough?"
Anne flinched back slightly, remembering the piece of paper on her dresser that had been waiting for her, just another victim of her temper. She closed her eyes, wanting nothing more than to go back to such an ordinary moment, unaware that her entire future was lying within the contents of that letter. She bit her lip and sorrowfully looked up at him, "I-I ripped it up."
"Of course you did..." he muttered under his breath.
She felt the anger spike back up in her at the way that he tried to pin all of the blame on her, raising a finger to poke his chest, "I was angry! How can you act as if this is all my fault? I was angry because you couldn't face me after what I wrote to you and I expected more from you!"
Gilbert frowned down at her hand on his chest, finally shaking his head and looking back into her eyes, "I-I really don't know what you're talking about, Anne. You...You never left me a letter."
"Yes, I did!"
"No, you didn't!"
"Why would I lie?" she exploded, glaring at him once more. "Gilbert Blythe, you're being ridiculous."
"Then what happened to it?" he challenged, raising his eyebrows and crossing his arms across his chest, "...did you rip that one up too?"
"How am I supposed to know?" she cried, "I left it on the table in plain sight, right underneath the water pitcher so that it wouldn't get lost! I-I didn't know where your room was otherwise I would have-"
Gilbert huffed. "I didn't read it! Maybe if you-"
She scoffed. "I don't want to argue with you right now."
"You do nothing but argue with me..." he retorted bitterly, turning away from her and stepping away.
"I don't understand you!" she spoke through gritted teeth, "...you've been trying to get under my skin all evening, telling our stories and acting like this is all some stupid game to you! You wouldn't stop talking to Charles and you just tried your best to make me-"
He raised his eyebrows, "Is it a crime to be friendly?"
"Yes!" she backtracked, groaning, "No! I just didn't...I thought that you-"
"You thought that I what?"
She wrapped her arms around herself and if it wasn't for the bitter wind, she would have stomped on his stupid jacket. "I thought that you cared."
Gilbert clenched his jaw, turning back to her and stepping closer than what was appropriate, "You think I don't care? Do you think I liked having you rub your new suitor in my face...watching him make you laugh and nudge your shoulder every five seconds? I was trying my best to be polite because he seems like a nice guy, I-I wasn't about to stand in the way of you being happy. But I-I...hated it, Anne. I wanted it to be me!"
"W-What did you just say?"
His shoulders drooped, fists loosening as stopped hiding the pain behind his eyes, "I...I wanted it to be me."
Anne could barely breathe and she wanted nothing more than to run upstairs to her childhood bedroom and scream into her pillow. She wanted to curse Gilbert Blythe for crawling his way into her heart, making a space for himself there that felt so right, until it felt like there was a hole in her chest when he left. She wanted to whack another slate across his head and curse the day that he was born, but she couldn't when his eyes were keeping her stuck in place. She had always wondered what was within his eyes, if he had cast some sort of spell while she was sleeping, applying a peculiar potion to her eyelids that would weaken her defenses. She wrapped the material of his jacket tighter around herself, clutching it desperately as she whispered, "...what did your letter say?"
He licked his lips nervously, resisting the urge to anxiously graze his fingers over the place that was once acquainted with the consequences of her temper. "I wrote it after I broke off my engagement with Winifred...I couldn't say anything to you when we got our results, I had to give her time to make arrangements, it was the least that I could do a-after everything. But I had to say something, Anne...before I went the rest of my life without saying a word. I told you that I wasn't engaged and that I wouldn't be u-unless-"
"Unless?" she noticed his shaky voice cutting off.
Something fluttered within her chest and with the way he was looking at her, she knew that he didn't even have to say the words.
"B-But..." she started, eyebrows pulling together, "...you didn't see my letter that said I love you...and you still-"
Gilbert shrugged sadly, "It was still true, Anne, it's always been true...and if I knew that you wrote me a letter like that, I would have changed my mind right away. I promise you, I would have fixed everything earlier, I-I would have thrown everything away because I know...I-I know I've always felt like something has been missing...", his hand reached up and grazed fingers across her freckled cheek, "...someone that I think could be the better half of me."
"G-Gilbert..." she whispered, eyes trailing down to his lips.
He pulled away from her suddenly, keeping the same distance but making sure that he wasn't touch her in any way. "But Anne...I know that he makes you happy and I-I don't want to stand in the way of what makes you happy. I couldn't stand it if you didn't laugh like that every day and I just...", he shook his head and his eyes were pained, "...I'm just sorry that I was too late."
A small giggle escaped her, "Gilbert..."
"What?" he frowned.
She pressed her hand against his chest again, but it was soft, maybe even loving, "Charles is only a friend."
"Oh."
"Yeah", she laughed, biting her lip, "Oh."
"Oh, thank god..." he looked up at the sky for a moment, as if he really was praying up to the stars and it made her laugh. Anne watched the relief within his eyes and remembered how she always thought of praying as reaching her hands out to the sky, spinning around in the middle of an open field, feeling all of the hope and possibilities dancing around her. It was in that moment that she realized that standing next to Gilbert Blythe in the middle of a cold winter, it made her feel like she held all of the hope of her most sacred prayers.
She was so caught up in her thoughts that she suddenly felt Gilbert's finger touching her cheek, wiping moisture away with furrowed eyebrows, "Hey...why are you crying?"
Anne touched her wet cheek and giggled, "Oh, Gil..." he sucked in a breath at the nickname and felt it leave him altogether as she stepped even closer, reaching up to touch his own cheek, "...we've been such fools. We wasted so much time because we just didn't...talk to each other like normal people. I-I just can't believe it...we've been so...so-"
"Stupid?" he offered, laughter swimming in his own eyes.
"Yeah" she laughed, resting her head against his chest and closing her eyes, "..really, really stupid."
His arms wrapped around her without a single thought, pulling the dark jacket around her form tighter as she burrowed into his chest. It made him feel like he was holding a storm cloud, something that had always felt so unachievable, so far away - yet there she was, right there in his arms. He looked up to the stars in the night sky and thanked them that she was right there, begging for her heart to always stay so close, even if distance often kept them apart. The night sky was how he came to wish that he could fly, feeling the stars vibrate and twinkle above him as if they were trying to whisper secrets in his ears. He brushed a hand through the river of fire that had captured his eyes all evening, wondering if Anne had the same hopes to someday soar far away from the world that they knew until they were whispering their own secrets to the stars. What he didn't know, was that he already made her feel like she was flying.
When she finally looked back up at him, they both shared the same gasping breath as their lips brushed. It was accidental, the smallest movement that they both didn't expect but so desperately had been wishing for. But they just stared at each other for a moment, as if they were partaking in a silent argument. They were daring to make the first move, wondering if they should raise or fold against the cards that they had been dealt. Anne knew that she had always been stuck in a conundrum when it came to Gilbert Blythe, the moment that she met him he had struck a chord in her heart, playing his own music so tenderly and so quietly that she almost missed it. But it was right there, playing along whenever she looked into his eyes and she wondered if that is what made every glance feel so magical. When her lips met his for the second time, it was no accident. Perhaps she was curious to see whether they could compose more melodies together, creating a symphony so beautiful that their hearts couldn't help but harmonize.
His hand was splayed right underneath the soft skin of her ear, her own pulling him in closer so that she could feel the beat of his heart against his own - sharing their music. And when they found themselves rooted in the dark curls brushing the nape of his neck, she wanted the earth to swallow them whole. Does it always feel like this?, she wanted to ask the universe.
Gilbert slowly let their lips part, resting his forehead on her own as they tried to catch their breaths. "I-I..."
"I know" she whispered in return, letting her eyelashes flutter against his cheekbones. "I...I don't know if I can say anything else."
She could feel him grinning against her hair, fingers tugging playfully at the red curls that fell down by her waist, carrots, she could almost hear him whisper playfully. "I never got an answer to my question."
"You never asked the question..." she teased, looking back up into his eyes that were dark with desire, a warning.
"Anne."
"Gilbert."
"Why must you always be so stubborn?" he laughed against her ear, finally giving in, "...I concede...pen pals?"
Her face fell slightly. "T-That's it?"
"What else did you expect me to ask?" he questioned, but his eyes were alight with mischief and something told her that he knew exactly what she wanted.
She looked down at the ground, trying to hide her disappointed frown, "Uh...yes. Pen pals...let's hope that we actually read these letters."
Gilbert pulled her in for another kiss before she could ask anything else, and it was enough to distract her. Damn you, Gilbert Blythe, she wanted to whisper to him, for stealing her heart away under the guidance of the stars. But perhaps he had stolen it long before then, maybe it went all the way back to his hand tugging on her red braid, to the moment that he offered to slay her dragons, or maybe even the moment that their eyes met for the first time. Perhaps the universe just knew, waiting for them to map out the future that it had created for them, trusting in the love that they would always carry. The stars above continued to blanket them within their grasp, sprinkling sugar and magic over their future, promising only sweetness.
"I love you..." he murmured when they parted, a knowing look in his eye as she sucked in a breath, "...and that is not something that you ever need to question."