There will be angst and fluff and possibly new chapters! However, the piece does stand on its own. Notes: Inspired by the song below and its lyrics
Honestly, as soon as I heard this song I thought about Anne and Gilbert and how well it suits their story.
This is unbetaed and so I would like to extend an invitation towards anyone who has any suggestions! "Josh McBride"
By The Head and the Heart
"Came to the cold just to see you
Standing there in expectation
Pulling coat and blue eyes staring
Oh, this vision does me good."
"...so it's more than possible that when Gilbert finally comes back to school...he'll be an orphan."
Anne's own contemplative words kept ringing incessantly in her ears throughout the entire funeral. The regret of having never realized how dire the circumstances truly were for her schoolmate, regret of having treated Gilbert as if he would be returning to school soon enough, as if his father wasn't slowly perishing before him. Everyday-how painful it must've been for him. The weight of having to grow-up too quickly, of losing his innocence, of losing his father must be unbearable too him now. So much that he carried himself as if he physically was burdened by the weight of everything he'd lost...
"You should've been there for him."
Why wasn't she?
Within his pleasantly dark eyes, there was a sadness which resided there, deep within them, always masked by the crinkles around them produced by his boyish grins and knowing smiles.
Even now, moving towards the quaint graveyard across the sea of white, providing such a grim contrast between the mourner's black clothing and the essential incandescence of snow. Anne had never particularly cared for the winter months as the bleakness offered little to room for the imagination. After all, a grand sweeping romance never should take place in the middle of winter, not when it embodies the death of all beauty in the world. There are no more vibrant flowers winking back towards Anne as she walks to and from school, no more waving blossom tree just outside her window, no more bird songs to distract her from her own self-deprecating inner monologues, and no more youthful, exuberant Gilbert Blythe.
Anne thought it interesting to notice how if she were an outsider looking into this flock of mourners, she wouldn't be able to identify who was the immediate family member of the decreased. Gilbert blends into the crowd with such easiness, something he'd never been able to do before. To simply disappear within a sea of people; Gilbert Blythe stands out as a lone yellow daisy amid a passionate flurry. If only to Anne, who couldn't tear her stare away from him long enough to even blink. Funny, before she would've happily averted her curious eyes from Gilbert's own winking ones all day long, perhaps that is why she never noticed how he had begun to recede within himself, collapsing under his own weight. It's so clear to her now, painfully clear.
Gilbert's tendencies of being a gentleman to everyone around him has caused him to hide a fundamental part of himself and a fundamental phase of his life; him mourning his innocence. Perhaps, he had felt it weeks or months before this day had finally arrived, his childhood ending along with his father's life. Maybe, like Anne, he suffered from an abundance of the imagination and imagined what his life would be like if his father was well. Would Anne have met a different Gilbert Blythe then?
Orphan.
There is a possibility of Gilbert knowing his father wasn't going to get better and that he was to become an orphan with time when he first met Anne. When he first defended her and inquired as to whether she needed any more dragon's slain; Gilbert might've known who she was and where she had come from, causing him to feel the ghostly presence of the empathy to come.
Anne tried to maintain her composure throughout the service, she hadn't registered when the party had become still or when the priest had begun to deliver Mr. Blythe towards his final journey; her eyes began to water. The icy chill thankfully prevented her from crying, as the arctic winds quickly dried all humidity from her reddening eyes. She struggled to blink back her tears as slowly as possible as to not shed them in such a public manner. This was Gilbert father's funeral and he stood as still and as pale as his father was lying in his coffin, before his son's distant downcast gaze. It wasn't Anne's place to cry for a man she barely knew or for his son's sadness- a boy she had actively been pushing away. If anything, Gilbert needed those around him to be strong, just as he was being in the face of such a personal tragedy.
Gilbert possibly wouldn't have been as eager to befriend her; Anne, the pale, skinny, red-haired, orphaned girl, if he wasn't already experiencing the beginnings of being all alone in the world. Anne had no way to gauge the true nature of Gilbert's friendly advances and general chivalry, not then and not now. How could she? Anne barely knew him, even after having visited his home to deliver books and homework, she still scarcely knew anything about Gilbert Blythe.
Perchance he'd been reaching out towards the only person who'd be able to fully and absolutely understand what he was going through. But of course, Anne being the socially inept girl she had always been, she brushed the well-meaning boy off. Based off of all of the anecdotal accounts from schoolmates that Anne had involuntarily received and her experiences with him, Gilbert is a good person. He doesn't deserve this and he certainly doesn't deserve the way she has treated him.
Gilbert Blythe deserves a clean slate just as much as anybody else—no pun intended.
A silent solemn promise was the way Anne wanted to end her stretch contemplating her time with Gilbert; she promised to be a better friend to him and most importantly- a more understanding and compassionate one as she observed how Gilbert painfully clenched his jaw and tightened his fists as the service ended with the priest's final mournful words, signaled by the gentle closing of his tattered Bible, and he never once glanced towards his neighbors and friends once they began to unhurriedly disperse towards the Blythe residence for the reception.
Marilla was too overcome with the funeral to notice Anne's reluctance to leave with her, but nevertheless she blindly headed onward with the rest of the congregation of people. Anne almost followed suit, Gilbert needed time to process alone. At least, that's what she told herself to justify leaving, but she moved at a snail's pace, blaming the rough fallen snow of being a primary hindrance to her movement, but couldn't help herself from glancing over her shoulder towards Gilbert. Mathew took a few moments to release his sister in order to whisper to Anne if she wanted to meet them inside. This shook her from her reverie enough for her to catch Mathew nodding towards the now orphaned boy, as if he knew exactly the cause of Anne's hesitation.
They were soon becoming the last people left in the clearing and so Anne quickly delivered the most convincing nod and smile she could materialize at the time, not wanting to break the sudden silence around them, when in truth she wanted nothing more than to run and hide. Mathew knowingly nodded towards the house and reassuringly gripped her shoulder. Before long, everyone had disappeared into the Blythe house, now filled with the glaring absence of both Blythe men.
Gilbert gave away no signs of being aware of Anne's lingering presence as he leisurely made his way towards a stone bench on the other side of his father's grave and the men who now deliver Mr. Blythe back to the earth for eternity. Anne decided to continue towards the house to make her way around full circle towards Gilbert, without having to approach him forthright and to give off the illusion of her deciding to join the Cuthbert's inside.
In that time, Gilbert had extended his palm towards the graying heavens, effectively capturing a single snowflake. Somberly, Gilbert watched it melt and slowly slide from his palm and onto the ground at his feet, as though that single liquefied snowflake were the tear he couldn't bring himself to shed.
Rose had mentioned how the sadness within Gilbert appeared to accentuate his already handsome features and although that statement may be true…
Snap out of it, Anne Shirley Cuthbert!
Before Anne could realize, she now stood beside Gilbert's bench as the men too began to retread towards their respective modes of transportation back to town, but the boy before her paid them no heed as they expressed their condolences before departing. Anne didn't know what to do or what to say but she oftentimes found that the most profound thing anyone could do for a hurting friend, is to simply express their earnest support and to listen. For once just listen… Yes, that'll have to do.
The already barely above freezing temperature was beginning to drop even lower and Anne wished she had the good sense to bring her gloves along as she watched Gilbert place his own pair on, as if getting ready to leave himself.
Just before he could do so, Anne interrupted him, "Hey Gi—I…" Anne cleared her throat, she didn't want to begin the conversation in such a nonchalant manner, but she was becoming noticeably uncomfortable at the moment and just like in most situations, Anne could feel a nonsensical nervous rant coming along.
"Do you mind if I join you, Gilbert?" she asked, awkwardly reaching for her braids to place them on either side of her chest, only to remember they were in a pretty ribbon at the moment. Gilbert glanced upwards and quizzically raised an eyebrow at her ministrations, she quickly made as though her intention was to straighten her knitted cap and once again cleared her throat.
"Sure," he replied, moving further down in order to give her more space and to Anne's surprise, she thought she detected a faint twinkle in Gilbert's dark eyes, as though he were about to crack a half-smile at her antics.
Suddenly without words, Anne straightened her skirts as best she could once she sat down to avoid the incoming chill and in an attempt to maintain her freezing hands occupied. Still they shook and so she decided to simply hug herself as though it could aid her in keeping her wits about her without spilling her guts all over the place. It was comfortable, more so than she had imagined, it was nice just to sit next to Gilbert, without arguing about school or him calling her "Carrots". Not even with Anne's extensive creative capabilities could she have envisioned such a peculiarity.
Then she remembered what she had mustered all of her courage to do, the constant fog emanating from her mouth without words to follow, ripped Anne from her musing. She turned her contemplation towards Gilbert, who had returned to clenching his jaw, his nostrils visibly flaring, perhaps from the cold. But they were in the presence of his father's freshly dug grave and Anne couldn't imagine what she would do in his situation.
"I wanted to express my sincerest condolences for the loss of your father, Gilbert," Anne said, nervously clasping her hands within each other, Gilbert nodded pensively and his eyes settled on her shaking hands, "I'm fine," she reassured him, but next thing Anne knew, he was removing his gloves, "No I'm fi—"
"Anne, you're shaking," Gilbert scolded, handing her his black woolen gloves. Anne couldn't help appreciating how comfortable they looked, but she instead quickly grasped Gilbert's warm bare hands, "Anne?" His brows were furrowed and she could see his chest rising and falling with greater speed.
Anne ignored her creeping blush and breathed in deeply, "Although I hardly knew Mr. Blythe, I do know that he was a good father to you and that you love him deeply. I cannot fathom what you must be enduring now, Gilbert. I know that because of my pride, I haven't been as good a friend to you as I should be. I want you to know that if you ever need anything at all, you can come to me."
Anne's hands had become warm from griping Gilbert's as if he were about to be enveloped by the earth itself if not for her anchoring him to her, "I'm so sorry, Gilbert."
Her last words came out as a whisper now, she felt light-headed and relieved and proud of herself for finally moving on. Anne beams now and is at the brink of tears as she witnesses Gilbert's own smile, "I appreciate that Anne."
Precipitously, Anne removed her hands from Gilbert's and immediately missed their warmth, but settled on keeping them within her coat's pockets.
"You know," Anne grinned fondly in the direction of Mr. Blythe's grave, "When I met your father, when I was delivering your books from school that first day, he complimented my hair."
"He didn't call you carrots did he?" Gilbert questioned, causing Anne to friskily nudging his shoulder in mock indignation, "I don't imagine you had your slate on you that day."
Anne's already swollen cold face flushed from her shame at the notorious memory and she fought the strong urge to bitingly retort back.'
"Seriously, Gilbert! I'm trying to invoke fond memories you have of your father. You didn't give a eulogy, but I know there's at least one memory of him you never want to lose. Sometimes, when I really miss someone and I'm overcome by the grief of it all, I remember the best bits I never want to forget, in order to preserve them and keep them with me," Anne turned to Gilbert expectantly, giving him time to remember something good, "You don't have to tell me what it is."
"Thanks, Anne. Really, but there's too much of him I wish I could still hold onto," Anne nodded, distracted by the snowflakes in Gilbert's dark hair and how much he resembled his self from a few weeks prior during her first visit here. Gilbert noticed where her gaze had fallen and he quickly rustled his locks, ridding them from the snow, "I think I still have a lot of things to sort out when it comes to my father and what he would have wanted."
Gilbert now stands before Anne, he brushes off his coat but he fails to offer her his hand and instead motions towards his home. Anne gladly obliges and let's herself drift towards the now brightly lit Blythe residence. Gilbert hesitates before approaching the door, his expression reserved.
"God, you're really freezing Anne. You should go inside," Anne regards him curiously, suddenly aware of how cold her nose and cheeks had become and she was indeed shaking, but is about to retort, "I can't—I can't go in and face everyone right now."
"I understand," she relents and is about to turn towards the door to leave him be, but then is overcome with the tragedy of leaving Gilbert outside all alone in the cold, "Could I be so bold as to ask if I may hug you?"
Now it is Gilbert's turn to be caught completely off-guard, a slow blush coloring his cheeks, and something told Anne, it wasn't just due to the cold. He simply blinks at her for several beats, as if assessing whether or not she was being serious or if it was just something that had slipped out of her mouth without her thinking, but he doesn't find any hesitation.
"You may…"
With that, Anne wraps her scrawny arms around him, gripping the back of his cool coat to her fingers. She slowly becomes more comfortable once Gilbert's own arms encircle her and he tightens his hold ever so slightly, as if still unsure as to how to progress. She immediately becomes engulfed by his earthy scent and his warmth as she breathes him in, pulling him ever so tightly to her, burying her face into his chest, "You're going to make it through this Gilbert Blythe. I'll be here, whenever you need me…"
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