A/N: I do mean "girlfriend Anne" as in the romantic sense.
This is a story by a trans author for trans readers; it may be a little confusing to other readers. To those readers: in this case, Gil has realised only in the past few months that he is a boy instead of what people have thought he is his whole life.
To trans readers: I chose to use one instance of "her" in quotes when referring to Gil in the past-as a nonbinary person myself, I know it can be confusing to try to refer to one's past self before realising that one is trans. I hope this usage won't offend.
Finally, my various Anne stories don't take place in the same universe unless otherwise noted. I like peering into many different parallel universes.
Shout out to elizasky, who has encouraged me so much, especially when it comes to lgbtq Anne content.
Gilbert Blythe is nervous.
He shouldn't be, in theory, but that knowledge has never before made his anxiety vanish, and it sure won't now. Even though Anne hangs out in the lgbtq space on campus sometimes and she'd be totally fine. Probably. Totally.
(Gilbert, it should be said, is ordinarily in possession of a strong and decisive mind. It's a sign of how nervous he is that he's going back and forth on this matter.)
He's studying with Anne now. She finished her homework nearly forty-five minutes ago and is now reading an Austen novel, but Gil is still slogging through a math assignment, plagued as he is by his overactive nerves.
Depending on what you consider the beginning of such a story, it had all begun a few months ago when Gil had shaved "her" head for a cancer fundraiser. Everyone had really liked it, and then when Gil got home and ran his hands over his head, something had just clicked. It was surprising in some ways, but in others, it felt as though he'd just come home.
He collects his thoughts and turns to Anne. They're lying flopped on the grass outside the cafeteria, where they'd just had lunch, and it's a beautiful clear day. No better time, Gilbert thinks, to tell his girlfriend that he's sort of a boy.
"Hey, Anne."
"Mmm?" Anne doesn't look up from her book. She has a highlighter in one hand and the book in the other, and the sunshine makes her squint.
"What do you think about boys?"
"What do I think about boys? I think they can be very nice, though they usually aren't kindred souls." She highlights something. "Why?"
Here goes. Gilbert picks up his pen and twiddles it between his fingers. "I think I might be one." He resists the urge to babble on and explain. The Gilbert Way is to dole out perfectly proportioned sentences.
It takes a second for Anne to absorb that. She shuts her book and turns to Gil, who is laying on his stomach in front of her. She takes his shoulders and pulls him up and into a hug. Gilbert has hugged her a million times before. He knows exactly how her lily-of-the-valley shampoo smells, how her hands fit between his shoulder blades, how her soft cheek brushes against his own. But this time it feels almost new. He re-memorizes the feel of her breasts against his own, the itch of her sweater, the smell of her soap.
"Thank you for telling me," she says, moving away but holding Gilbert by the shoulders. "You were wonderful before, you delightful-man, and I very much look forward to getting to know you as a boy." She pauses, realises her mistake. "Well, getting to know you now that I know you're a boy."
Gilbert laughs. "I know what you mean." He can't stop laughing, as relieved as he is.
Anne wrinkles her nose. "What's funny?"
"Nothing," Gilbert says, leaning forward to kiss her nose. "Nothing at all."