She watched him stand alone beside his father's grave in the quiet of the snow covered evening. The mischievous twinkle in his eye had vanished and in its wake she saw his clenched jaw, the pale determined face of a boy turned man overnight. He just- looked so sad. Far from the boy who'd offered to slay dragons for her before even knowing her name. Far from the boy who'd tugged at her pigtails and called her "carrots". Far from the boy who'd let her beat him at advanced spelling because he could see she wasn't feeling well.
After asking permission of Marilla, Anne gently trudged back through the snow towards Gilbert Blythe. She stood by him a while, feeling awkward and uncertain and positive that she had made a mistake. He sensed her presence but said nothing. He had nothing to say. His dark eyes flickered down to meet hers and she was grateful to see they were beautiful as ever, even when they were sad, and that they held no distaste for her within them. So she slipped her thin, warm fingers between his cold ones and silently prayed that he would get through this and manage to remain the Gilbert Blythe she secretly liked so much.
When he did return to school several weeks later, he was surprised to find that Anne had taken to walking him home. He wasn't sure how this development had come about but he sure as hell wasn't complaining. She filled the cold silence that often threatened to envelop him with her incessant chatter. She would describe the trees with her too big words, or talk about their lessons in school that day, or how beautiful Ruby Gillis was and how charming a wife she would be (although he was certain the little blonde had put her up to the latter). Ruby was sweet but held no interest for him, she didn't have bright red hair or exuberant eyes, or little dimples when she smiled. She didn't read school poems with passion and she had no big ideas in her head other than which boy in the classroom she could wrangle into being a decent husband.
Gilbert missed his father deeply, couldn't bear to look into the now empty room with its untouched sheets. But Anne helped bring a little colour back into his world, how could she help it with that hair like freshly peeled carrots? He couldn't bring himself to say much to her in return, but made sure to smile at her whenever he was able to catch her eye so she wouldn't stop accompanying him home.
As the winter melted into a beautiful crisp clear spring, he came to know Anne Shirley Cuthbert like the back of his own hand. By this time he could predict just where in her freckled cheek, a dimple would appear if he made a joke (and he made sure to do this as often as he possibly could, feeling very rewarded indeed when she flashed him her teeth). He knew that she used big words because she couldn't express the numerous thoughts in her head with the plain, simple ones they were taught in school. He knew she had suffered before, knew it every time she flinched away at a loud sound or sudden movement. And he knew she was special, Anne Shirley Cuthbert, whose friendship was hard earned but worth every fist fight, every rejection, worth the small indentation near his eyebrow from her chalk slate.
"Why do you want to leave Avonlea so much, Gil?" she asks, her plaintive voice breaking through his thoughtful reverie. He liked when she calls him that, adores the familiarity it suggests, this small intimate thing that links him closer to her. He looks down at her, his heart leaping at the thought of telling her that she is the only reason he remains here, his brain reprimanding the very idea. "My father always reminded me it's a big world out there, Anne. I want to know it. See it all. Avonlea is so small".
She looks thoughtful, as if she had never even considered the idea of a life outside of Avonlea. "It is small, but it's my whole world" she tells him. "I love it here".
"So there's nothing that could persuade you to leave Avonlea just for a while, just to see what's out there?" he asks carefully, peering at her furtively through thick, dark eyelashes. Her reply is just as careful, equally measured. "Well there might be someone- I mean something, but I hate the thought of leaving Green Gables, I love Marilla and Matthew so". She stutters her way through the sentence and trails off when she sees him watching her intently. They hold the contact for a moment, grey-green piercing deep brown, till she startles backwards, losing her balance. He reaches for her elbows out of instinct, stabilising her against his chest. This causes her to startle even further and in the kerfuffle they both end up on the ground, amid the long sweetgrass that surrounds his house. Anne laughs as the grass tickles her pretty, freckled nose and he joins in, unable to help himself. They sit there in the damp grass for awhile and he inches his fingers closer to hers. She intertwines her fingers with his and he can't help the way his heart speeds up as she rests that red, glorious head against his shoulder. The afternoon sun warms their faces and the presence of the other warms their hearts.