Good morning everyone!
Our body still hurts after Gilbert's exercise. He might be walking funny and all... He did run a fair bit. But today is a new day! What will the nurses say (if anything)? Fred?
Today's chapter is special. It's a personal favorite and I don't have a running list for them :) We hope you enjoy it and that it helps bring something nice to your day.
Music to set the tone:

-Who is He (And What Is He To You?) - Bill Withers

-Bodega Shuffle - Sam Blakelock

-The Place Where Lost Things Go - Jamie Cullum

-Eyes in My Pocket - Simon Smith, Maria Rodés

-Sweet Plaid Shirt - Elly Pradelles, Alexandre Prodhomme

-I Was Just Thinking - Teitur

-Childhood - Croupnoop

-Corners - Octave Lissner

-Long Time Ago - Sitting Duck, Otaam, Philantrope, No Spirit

-Better Kind of Better - Peachy Pavement, Jobii, L.M. Styles, Milva

-Emotion Rollencoaster - Gogo, Paul

-Please Speak Well Of Me - The Weepies, Deb Talan, Steve Tannen

-couch - yuraka hisayaka, paniyolo

-Honesty - Pink Sweat$

-feel the same - fjc, Chevy

Chapter 15

callmecordelia tagged you in a post.

The notification sat on his screen for a while before he got the chance to see what the photo was. He did notice a couple of the student nurses (and then a couple of the senior ones) gave him weird looks, a couple of the more forward ones complimenting him on the new haircut, but he tried to ignore the whole situation.

**Josie Avongang (10:55): I want a full explanation of how this happened and what is going on in Hamilton [link of Anne's post with Gilbert's haircut].

**Ruby Avongang (10:57): You look so nice, Gilbert! Love the new look! 💞 💞 💞 And first picture together in what, ten years?

**Charlie Avongang (10:58): I just want to know how the payment was. After all that suffering...

**Fred (11:03): Blythe, where are you? I have to see this with my own eyes 👀

**Tillie Avongang (11:03): I just want to know if we can finally celebrate. When can we have a call?

**Gilbert Blythe (11:04): Sixth floor. Doing rounds.

**Gilbert Blythe Avongang (11:04): All of you. Shut it. Call whenever you like, no mention to my hair.

**Fred (11:10): You're a sensation, right now. I'm telling you- found out about your haircut thanks to a groupie of nurses who don't know if they're more in love with you or your wife.

**Cole Avongang (11:12): Nice cut, Anne! Gilbert, you finally look like a respectable real doctor!

**Gilbert Blythe (11:20): Don't tell me Would have never noticed.

He decided to open the instagram notification to see what the fuzz was about.

callmecordelia Quarantine cut, here we go! Will this pouty face get a happy ending or a fresh new buzzcut? Swipe to see! Personal favorite: suffering face in the middle of the process. You would think hairs actually have nerve endings.

Bashfromtrini: Queen Anne! Finally someone to get him presentable! I bow to you!

Beardad: You're my hero Anne! Maybe the patients will stop coming to therapy because of his mop!

Jerryofgreengables: Sis, you've outdone yourself.

Kimsta1999: samrobertsoon look at Dr. Blythe!

Dianabaynard: Bosom friend, your talents surprise me every day 💙

Josieandthepyes: Will you please get your act together, callmecordelia and gilbertblythe? Or are we having happy news?

Janethelawyer: Overdue happy news, mind you! callmecordelia gilbertblythe confess!

He swiped back and forth between the three pictures and glanced at the comments. As the nurses looked at him and giggled and then looked at their phones, where was Anne's publication. That had more likes than anything she had ever published before. And more comments. And the gang going crazy on their group.

**Fred (11:21): Have lunch with me? I want to see how you're walking after your ridiculous exercise from yesterday.

**Gilbert Blythe (11:22): Walking perfectly. Two advils and a paracetamol and two hot showers did the trick. And maybe I'll have a tramadol if it gets any worse. Parking lot next to the big tree? Weather's nice.

**Diana Avongang (12:33): To be respectable he would have to wear something else. But agree with the cut, at least you look your age.

**Carrots Avongang (12:34): Thanks! Now can you please convince him not to let it grow into that mop again?

**Carrots (12:34): Full success. Here I declare myself your main hairdresser, until I go back to PEI.

**Gilbert Blythe (12:35): Just stay here and you can claim to be that for longer 😉

Gilbert arrived first and sat on the bench next to the tree, waiting for his friend. He appeared not a minute later from the side door. When he looked at him, he smiled. Then his smile turned into a smirk as he got closer. Then into a huge grin.

"You're a new man!" Fred greeted him as he got close. Gilbert shook his head. "Who would have said, mythical Anne has actual mythical superpowers? You look good, Blythe! Even better than the pictures."

"It's not even that noticeable," he answered. Fred grabbed him from the shoulders and turned him to one side and to the other. "Wright, stop it."

"I won't. And it is. Now I understand the nurses. Head nurse Ms. Patricia wouldn't shut about it in the lab. Now dress according to look like an adult," Fred finally let go of him and opened his bag, which he had left on a bench. "Want to share? My sandwiches are nice."

"What did you put in them?" he asked, before accepting. He would never tell Moody or Charlie or Jerry, but he was starting to like this not-eating-meat-thing.

"Seriously, Blythe? Cured ham," Fred answered.

"No, thanks. But I'll share dessert, I do know what your motivation was," Gilbert answered, opening his salad with hummus, nuts and lots of fresh veggies. Fred smiled at him and Gilbert laughed. He was so easy.

"So…" Fred started and Gilbert put a bunch of stuff in his mouth to be able not to answer, because he could see where this was headed. "how was having her as your hairdresser? And chew, Blythe, you already eat fast enough without actually trying." Gilbert ignored him for a second. "Believe me when I say I can wait for you to swallow."

"I didn't actually want to get it cut by her," he confessed.

"What? Why? If I wasn't already bald, I would want to get it cut by her!"

"That you walk around with a shaved head is only your fault. You're not really bald. And I didn't, because she doesn't have a history of good haircut skills. At least she didn't before," Gilbert explained.

"Do tell!"

"Well, she was… I don't know, fifteen or something. And she actually hated her hair back then, at least until this happened. So there she was, complaining about how red was dreadful and so on..."

"But her hair is so nice!"

"Believe me, I know that. I love her hair. Always have. But she didn't, so one day she bought this really cheap dye in Dollarama. Like a dollar for the tub or something. And… she said she followed the instructions to the letter, but I still don't believe that. I don't even know what she was aiming for, but next thing I know she's texting me her hair is green as I'm about to enter hockey practice," he said, laughing at the memory. Fred looked at him, spooked.

"Lovely Anne with green hair?" he asked, starting to laugh. Gilbert answered, trying to compose himself. "How did she even look?"

"I never actually got around to see it. I was about to go to her place after practice to see if I could help with anything and then I see a new text. It just said something along the lines of all gone now, never look at me again or something. As if I could ever do that," Gilbert shook his head, chuckling at the memory.

"Hair all gone? What do you even mean?"

"What did she mean? Well, I went anyway and her adoptive mother, Marilla, let me in. She had this tragic expression as if someone had died. And then Anne was locked in her room and didn't allow me in. So eventually I left, but she couldn't avoid school forever," Gilbert explained.

"You're killing me, Blythe! Continue!"

"She buzzed it off. As in, you're sporting the same haircut she had. Exact same," Fred's expression was everything and Gilbert laughed again but tried to stop just to be able to finish.

"How did she…"

"She went and took Matthew's, her adoptive father, shaving machine and cut it all off. She had the cutest round head ever and everyone petted her for luck for weeks afterwards."

"Are you serious? No hair?"

"No hair. Then she had a pixie for a while. It did look very good on her. And eventually it grew again, just a tad darker than before. After that, believe me, she loves her hair. Red or not," Gilbert ended, a silly smile on his face. Oh, those had been good times.

"Well, it seems she has perfected her skills over the years," Fred said, looking approvingly at him. Gilbert's hand went to his hair. "Stop it with your nervous tick. You look like a teen and finally that cut makes you look your age. Seriously, Blythe, and I'm not even joking anymore. What about you look like a grown doctor and stop wearing those things? I'm sure Anne would appreciate it. And I'm pretty sure you're the only med student in history who didn't look forward to stop wearing scrubs"

"They're practical," Gilbert defended himself.

"Of course they are. Hence medical student uniform. They're not professional," Fred insisted. "Look like a grown doctor and maybe then you can even look into grown's doctor's schedules. As in, no more shifts."

"I don't mind the shifts. I'm used to them," Gilbert commented. But he had thought about it a couple of times since Anne started talking with him and he began to consider maybe there was a chance of this working out.

"Well, maybe Anne does? Just saying… Look the part, and maybe do the part as well, dr. Blythe. You're a good doctor, everyone says so. You know more than most of the gits in your department. McMaster is even trying to get you to teach. You can't go and teach wearing that, they won't take you seriously," Fred insisted, and Gilbert could tell he was indeed being serious.

"So… you're suggesting I dress up?"

"I mean, how much is up to you, Blythe. But at the very least a shirt or something, you're bound to have something other than scrubs in your closet."

"I do. You'd be surprised, but I actually do have nice clothes. I just never use them unless there's a business meeting or something," he said. He had a whole area in his closet he only used when he went to Montreal and PEI to business meetings with Bash.

"For your cider thing?"

"If you appear more professional they don't take you like a millenial trying to get over a fancy. Even if the fancy is the family orchard that's been around 150 years. So yes, Wright, I even own bowties and suspenders and the whole show, because if I'm going to dress up, I do it well," he said. "I just like old, trusted scrubs to come here, it's not that I have zero taste."

"Sooo? Tell me! What did people say to you at the hospital?" Anne asked him as soon as he crossed the door. He slowly took off his shoes, purposely delaying his answer.

"Isn't instagram enough for your curiosity? What were you thinking, publishing that thing?" he asked, feigning annoyance, but she saw he was actually smiling.

"I knew it! See? You did need a haircut," she stated proudly.

"Now don't get so smug. You were not even the first one to suggest it," he teased her as he went to the kitchen to wash his hands and grab a glass of water.

"I don't even care. I got what I wanted. You look… more professional, now. Keep it up, dr. Blythe," she said.

"Yes. About that, Fred has been on a mission about changing my wardrobe since we graduated and he is finally succeeding. You still need space in the closet? I was just going to reorganize some stuff, get rid of some things, and I could probably clear a couple of shelves for you," he commented.

"I could, actually. Those boxes…"

"They don't bother me but you did mention something about them the other day. So I'll leave you the space, sounds good?"

"I could help you, if you want," she proposed, as she didn't have anything planned for the afternoon. He shrugged. He didn't care one way or the other.

"Have you even been out today? Weather is so nice I don't really understand how you're wearing a hoodie?" he commented, putting the glass on the dishwasher and going to his bedroom. It was around 30 degrees outside. She flushed and one of his eyebrows went up, questioning, which made her cheeks get an even deeper shade of red. She had decided she was going to live in hoodies from now on. He shook his head and went to the closet. "You still have everything jammed on just the one shelf? Now I'm sure I'm the worst host ever," he said looking around.

"You're a good host. Really. Closet space doesn't make a difference," she commented. He shook his head, not agreeing. He sighed. Where to begin? Anne looked at how lost he was. Had he never cleaned his closet? "What's the purpose of this?"

"Me, looking as a grown up doctor. Fred's words. And I do know I have what it takes to do so around here, somewhere… Just all these things are in front."

"So you're not wearing scrubs any more?" she asked, excited about the prospect. Well, that made the whole activity more interesting.

"Well, I'm sure I will, sometimes. You can't always avoid them. But not every day," he accepted. She went forward, motioning the closet, and he nodded. She took all the pile and left it on the bed.

"Start there. You won't need as many, then. Keep the best ones and donate the rest. Then we move on to the next thing," she said, sitting on the bed. He sighed. This was going to take much more work than he had thought. He looked through them and kept the two that were newer. Anne nodded and put a stack of workout clothes in front of him, putting the pile of discarded scrubs next to the door.

"What? Exercise clothes?"

"If you're organizing your closet, do it properly, Gilbert. I'm sure there's stuff in there you don't even remember," she said, folding neatly the two remaining scrubs. He looked through the pile of pants, shorts and workout t-shirts and realized she was right. He kept the things he used. And then she replaced the pile with the next category. The donating pile grew bigger as he found things he hadn't worn in so long he had completely forgotten about them, and the space looked airy and spacious for once. "Well, we're almost done with this side, there's only these boxes left," she said, bringing them to the bed where Gilbert was folding a t-shirt.

"Oh, great. I was actually wondering about these," he said, picking Anne's curiosity. She received the folded t-shirt and lingered a few seconds as he opened one of the boxes, revealing… suspenders? Gilbert owned suspenders? He wore suspenders? What? "Were they way in the back?"

"Um… yes, very back," she answered, trying to imagine him in suspenders. The image made her blush, for some reason. He looked at her, confused by her reaction, and then focused his attention on the other box. He opened it. A couple of rolled ties and some bow ties. He always preferred bow ties, they didn't keep tangling in everything. Maybe he was just clumsy, but bow ties were low maintenance and looked good. He nodded, took out the ties he knew he was not going to wear ever again, and gave them to Anne, who received them. She looked at them. They looked like nice enough ties.

"These can go," he said, as he got up to put the boxes near the front of the shelf. After everything he had thrown, there were now three whole shelves more for Anne's clothes or whatever she wanted to put in there. That was good. And he had already gone through his shirts and pants. So there was that. Pants, shirts, suspenders. Maybe the bowties were too much. He would ask Fred. He couldn't even remember if any of the doctors wore ties.

"You don't wear ties?"

"I actually hate them. Since I discovered bow ties have the same function and are easier to handle I haven't gone back. Actually, give back the ties, probably Fred might get some use out of them," he said. He took out his phone and snapped a picture to send him later. "So, finished?"

"We still have that door to go, mind you. We're not doing this half way," she said. He looked at her.

"But that's the winter coats and… stuff area. It can stay like that. I have like three winter coats and I'm not getting rid of any. And the rest of things are staying as well, I don't even need to look through them," he said. Not because he wanted to keep them from her, but only because he was tired.

"But we're so close!" she said.

"But it's already seven! We've been at this for hours!" he said. "Let's eat something and then we can continue, yes? I haven't eaten since lunch." Gilbert looked so adorable in his new haircut, pout and everything, that Anne laughed.

"So what do you want to eat?" she asked.

"Cereal?"

"Really?"

"You asked! I'm hungry, I want something quick and easy. That's the best bet," he defended his choice, as he put the clothes to donate in a big bag. She shook her head. "And I like cereal. You're not taking that away from me. So I'm having cereal. What are you having?"

"Something yummy and delicious, and I won't give you any of it," she said.

He laughed, following her to the kitchen. Anne didn't give it much thought and prepared herself a sandwich with hummus, sun dried tomatoes, spinach, avocado and almonds that did look much better than his sad bowl of cheerios, but he was not going to say anything. Or ask for a bite. Or anything. Even if it looked that good. They ate in silence.

Anne saw Gilbert and thought about how before she knew every single item in his wardrobe and now she was surprised with most of the things. Teen Gilbert wouldn't have been caught dead in suspenders and bowties, of all things, and adult Gilbert had a small, but tasteful collection of both kinds, all neatly organized. Like all of his closet, that had been stuffed, but neat. At first, she was surprised about the revelation of suspenders and bowties, but now only wanted to know how he looked in them. It sounded so sexy. If anyone knew and would tell her about that, it was Cole.

**Anne S-C (19:08): Hey there

**Cole (19:08): Nana! That was quite the good haircut you gave to Gilbert, congrats!

**Anne S-C (19:08): Thanks! I'm actually proud. Not even with Matthew it ever turned out this good. And he looks so damn good. Photos don't do it justice. Wanted to ask you (and please don't judge), how does Gilbert look in suspenders? 🙈 🙈 🙈

**Cole (19:08): So freaking hot you can't even imagine. I've only seen him wear them at formal events, but gosh, please convince him to use them with everything. Your life will change.

**Anne S-C (19:09): I just can't get the image out of my mind.

**Cole (19:09): Because it's that good and you know it. How are things going with him?

"Everything alright?", Gilbert asked her when he saw her flush suddenly as her phone buzzed. She nodded, trying to think of how to answer Cole.

"Just Cole being Cole," she said, not giving details. But he could see she was actually covering her screen. What were they talking about?

"If you say so…" Oh yes, picture for Fred.

**Gilbert Blythe (19:08): [Photo] Fancy some ties? They're either for you or for the donating pile.

**Fred (19:10): Yes to the blue one and the stripped one. No to the others. What are you doing?

**Gilbert Blyhte (19:10): Organizing my closet so I can use my grown up doctor clothes. Wasn't that the purpose of your lecture today? 😑

**Fred (19:10): Why give me the ties then? Grown up doctors use them. At least some days.

**Gilbert Blythe (19:11): Don't like them. I have bow ties 😉

**Fred (19:12): Hipster dr. Blythe. I'll see how that goes. Nurses will go wild.

**Gilbert Blythe (19:12): Shut it. I still haven't donated my scrubs. Can always go back to them.

**Anne S-C (19:12): I don't actually know. Good, I think. Just on the verge. I'm undecided about taking the leap.

**Cole (19:13): Where's the doubt?

**Anne S-C (19:13): Losing him again? We're finally in a place where I think we could keep talking, after all this is over. I can tell he wants more. Sometimes I do, too. God, you should have seen him yesterday. I almost died. Too hot. But I don't know, Cole. I'd rather stop this here and have him as a friend than getting together with him for a bit and then it not working out and losing him again.

**Cole (19.14): Have faith, Anne. Both of you have waited for years for the other. You don't even have to agree with me, I know it to be true. I can't tell you how to do it, but you need to learn to trust each other.

**Cole (19.15): And fuck each other already. I have told you this for months and I will keep saying it: once you guys finally sleep together, everything will be so much easier. The unresolved sexual tension is a thing that is not allowing either of you to think clearly. Once you do, you will realise many things. Believe me.

"Anne?" Gilbert called her again. She was blushing so brightly, completely absorbed in her screen, and hadn't heard the first time he called her. She looked at him. "I was telling you, if you're serious about continuing, then we better continue or else we won't finish."

"Yes. That. Let's go," she said, blocking her screen. What was she writing about with Cole that had her all flustered?

They went back to the bedroom and he opened the final door of the closet. The one he almost never opened. Anne sighed, looking at the mess. Maybe it was better to leave that for another day. But then she saw some familiar red on the back of the rack and couldn't help but to reach for it. It was calling her. The softness of the wool she knew by heart. The plaid she had made fun of at the beginning, just to hide how much it affected her how good he looked in it. The thickness of the fabric that was so warm it made her steal the jacket all through autumn, winter and spring, to the point Gilbert sometimes just brought an additional one for him.

Gilbert stood next to her, watching her eyes brighten and look so absent and sad as she caressed his old jacket, not even grabbing it. He never had the heart to get rid of it. Not even when he hadn't worn it in years. It probably didn't fit him anymore. But he just couldn't let it go. He saw her swallow.

"I can't believe you still have this thing," she mumbled.

"Of course I do. I would never get rid of it," he whispered, putting an arm around her waist. She felt her eyes get wet. She had gotten rid of absolutely everything and for the first time wasn't sure it had been the right decision. She leaned into him, breathing his familiar scent. "You ok?" he asked softly, not expecting this kind of emotional reaction from her while cleaning his old things. "I can look through this some other day. There's no rush," he said, because he didn't want her to keep spiraling down. If his plaid jacket had her like this, he didn't want to think about the rest of the content in there.

"No, it's fine," she said, trying to be strong. Fake it 'till you make it, right? He looked at her, not sure at all of this. "So, where do we start?"

"Well… I don't even know, to be honest. There's just so much stuff. Not much clothes, just… stuff," he explained. "I'm probably not going to throw anything away, so we might as well leave it as is."

"We can at least organize it a bit, the space is not really optimized," she said. He chuckled, shaking his head.

"You're mental. Ok, let's do this. Probably let's just take everything out? I can reduce the boxes to similar things and that'll probably cut down on the clutter," he said. They started taking out shoeboxes (apparently what he used the most to keep stuff in). "Wait. Before we take everything, because clearly we're not going to get any space… Let me check through this quickly."

Anne nodded, sitting on the bed. She didn't want to appear overly curious, but she was a bit nonetheless. She had always known behind Gilbert's rational, calm demeanour he was sentimental at heart, but he didn't show it much around. She was sure it was part auto protection, part wanting to appear thought. It was too endearing for her to handle. It had always been. So what was he keeping in shoe boxes in his closet?

Gilbert opened the first one. Well, nothing much there. Old receipts, some papers that didn't make sense anymore to keep. This one was trash. Out it went. Next one… most of the contents of the next one should probably be trash, he knew. When he saw what it was, he didn't open it all the way. It would not do that Anne saw how he still kept the flashcards she had helped him make for his studies, the doodles they made in class when in school and random pictures and stubs. He closed it quickly.

"This one stays like this," he said, not looking at her. She frowned, confused, but didn't ask nor force the issue and put the box on the floor, away from the others. He sighed, looking at the rest. He should have thought about this better, looking through his stuff with the one person that had prompted him to keep much of it in the first place… Not by asking, but by merely not being around, was hard. He swallowed.

"You ok?" she asked. He nodded.

"It's just- I guess there's a reason I keep everything stuffed in there," he said, for a lack of a better explanation. He grabbed another box at random, opening it slightly. Pictures. Ok, he could open this. Pictures were a slightly more normal thing to keep. He skimmed through them, smiling sadly. Most were of his childhood, when his father was not yet ill. A much younger Bash started to appear when he was around eight, when his dad had met him, freshly arrived from Trini. Anne sat next to him and he didn't push her away. This she could see. She put her hand on his back as comfort, noticing how evidently emotional he was.

"They're lovely," she commented. It was not the first time she had seen the pictures. When he was sixteen, newly orphaned, she had helped Gilbert look through most of the stuff in his house. "I still stand by what I said- you should put them in albums."

"No, they're fine like this," he said. For some reason, he loved the photos, but wanted to keep them close. Not in an album that could be passed around. "So, this whole box stays like this. Next," he grabbed the next one and opened it without thinking, his mind still in the snow fight with his dad in Alberta.

Gilbert blinked, trying to understand what he was looking at, Anne's hand frozen in a place in his back. Well, so much for keeping his weird boxes away from her eyes. He closed his eyes, cursing silently. Of all the things… Of the six boxes, he had to open this one. Not another one full of receipts. Maybe he could roll with it? Anne's hand slid off and then he knew it wouldn't be that easy.

When he had given her the small wooden fox from some obscure toyshop he had tracked down, he never told her he had gotten a set and kept the rest of the figures. In his mind, at the time, he was going to give all of them to her, at different times of their lives. He just never got the chance: the fox was the only figure he gave her before their falling out. But it was really evident the relation between all the figures: the light color, soft, waxy feeling, size, the roundness and timeless style of the shapes. Even with eyes closed anyone would guess the fox and the rest of the forest animals were related. He cleared his throat.

"Well. Long overdue, I guess," he mumbled after a moment. "These were all meant for you, you might as well have them now," he explained. Anne frowned at him. He was not going to explain the whole thing that was behind it. "They are yours, if you want them," he insisted, passing her the box without even noticing what the small animals were on top off. She took out the elk, tentatively, caressing the wood with her thumb.

"I don't understand," Anne breathed. What were these toys? How come they existed and what did they even mean? How were they meant for her? She remembered the fox, how delighted she had been. How she used to carry it around as a good luck token and how it had burned to ashes in Green Gables' fireplace.

"I know," Gilbert answered. "You don't have to. Maybe I'll explain, some day," he declared, closing the subject and moving on to the next box, trying to ignore her heavy silence. If he had opened the wooden animals and his highschool trinkets, there was not much left now that could cause any sort of sorrow. Yep, this one was trash. He noticed as she put back the elk and closed the box carefully, leaving it next to her. Next box? Uni trinkets. His first stethoscope. First ID at the hospital. Some pictures. Fred when he still used to leave his hair with any sort of length. "Look at this," he passed the picture, trying to change the subject. She chuckled, but covered his hand with hers.

"Gilbert?" she said, and then looked at him in the eyes. "Thank you. I hope you can share the story at some point," He nodded curtly, smiling sadly. He felt a knot on the throat. She looked at the picture he was showing her, because probably he was just trying to escape the emotion of the situation and appear as calm and composed as he usually was. "Can't believe he had hair, at some point," she commented, which made Gilbert laugh in relief. She didn't comment on how the smile didn't seem to reach Gilbert's eyes in the picture.

"Ok, so there's only this left," he said, grabbing the last box. This one he knew what it had, it had been the one at the front of the closet and thus the lowest on the pile they had made. He smiled as he opened it and bright colours greeted them. "Delly's drawings. I just love them," he explained to Anne, who was watching each sheet carefully, feeling her heart swell. He picked one. "This is my favourite," he said. He was going to return it to her, but refrained at the last second. "You know what? I want to see this. There's no point in keeping it in a box, I just love it so," he explained and got up. He went to the kitchen and put it on the fridge with a magnet. When he came back to the room Anne was looking through a stack of recipe cards. "Mary had hopes of teaching me how to cook."

"How did that turn out?" Anne asked, stifling a laugh, trying not to sound too skeptical.

"Well, terrible, of course. You've probably managed to do more in these months than she did," he replied.

"I haven't taught you that much. Just maybe a couple of salads. That doesn't even qualify as cooking," she answered. He shrugged. It was cooking, as far as he was concerned. "Some of these look nice, I could try them one day," she commented. The swaps to adapt the recipes for her diet should be easy enough. "May I?"

"Of course, it's not like I'm getting any use out of those. Mary would be happy," he said. And he would get to eat the result, which was even better. "Ok, let's put this back in there. Should we call it a night?"

"If you want. But I feel we've done so much, it only makes sense to finish," she answered. She would not push it- he was clearly more emotional than he would ever admit, as she was, but there again, if he ever was going to clean the space… He nodded, sighing as he scratched the back of his neck. He had only wanted to find his suspenders, not this marathon down memory lane.

Anne got up, taking a couple of boxes to the almost-empty closet. Other than the hangers with the winter coats and the red plaid jacket, there was not much, the boxes had been the bulk of it. He had some folded clothes on a top shelf they had somehow missed before and a black something towards the far end. She put the boxes in a neat stack, receiving the next set from Gilbert. He saw the top shelf and hoped she wouldn't notice. Those… he knew those would only lead to problems.

"What's that on the back?" Anne asked.

"Just my guitar. It can stay there," he said, dismissively. He never thought about getting rid of it, but never played it anymore. Her eyes lit up and he saw how something was forming on her mind. "I don't play anymore, Anne. It is staying there."

"It must be like riding a bicycle! Please?" she looked so excited. And he had never been able to say no to anything excited Anne asked of him, even if he didn't really want to.

"I'm sure I don't even remember the chords," he tried, his resolve waning.

"All the more reason! You can practice again and remember them! Please, Gil?" The prospect of seeing him play his guitar again made her giddy inside.

Anne had always been mesmerized by how he did it, his voice always soft and quiet as he sang, only for himself. He had never performed anywhere, just a quiet hobby he had with his dad and she had discovered only by accident, when she arrived at his room one of the first times she went to his home unannounced. John had opened the door and urged her on upstairs, telling her to be quiet, his eyes telling her there was something good there. She had stood a good five minutes, heart in her mouth, watching him play and sing and noticing how handsome he was and how deep his voice had become, before he ever noticed her. There had been no way for him to deny he knew how to play after that, but she had agreed (reluctantly) not to tell anyone. Only all the gang eventually found out, some years later, only by chance, and she wasn't sure if they had seen him play.

"Ok. But not tonight. Or we leave this thing as it is," he said, motioning to the closet. Anne pursed her lips, divided between ending the task at hand and seeing him play.

"Leave it out? That way you can't get out of it. And you should keep that in the living room or somewhere you can see it, so you don't spend god knows how long without playing it," she said, reaching to it and pulling it from its corner.

The case still had the exact same stickers as it had when they were in highschool. As if it hadn't been touched since. Which it hadn't, he had just kept it when he went to medicine school but never got around to play it. Studies were always the excuse, never exactly the reason. She examined it for a few seconds and left it propped against the doorframe. Then she reached for the last shelf left to do and he prayed it wouldn't end on a fight- another one.

"Maybe I should look through that," he said quietly. She handed over the smallish stack, not thinking much of the generic university t-shirt it had on top. He sat on the bed, unsure of what to do. "You know what? This is going as it is back to the closet. I know what's in there and everything will stay," he decided, getting up and putting them back on the shelf.

Compared to perfectly folded clothes on the other side of the closet, this looked positively shabby, but Gilbert was not going to refold any of his hockey jerseys in front of Anne. Not when they had caused so many issues before. He didn't even know why he kept them, when they no longer brought out the good memories they used to before Winifred. Maybe as a reminder? As if he needed any. Anne reached for them.

"At least let me fold that," she said. He put her hand on hers.

"Please don't," he insisted, and then Anne realised there was something there he didn't want her to see. She frowned but didn't say anything and stood back. "So, we're done. Finally. I'll put this next to the door to take out in the morning, I can drop off the donations on the way to the hospital," he said, grabbing the bag in one hand and the couple of boxes in the other one. He went back to the room and she was still pensive, quiet, as he chose a change of clothes for the next day, in case she would still be sleeping when he went out.

"Some tea?" he offered at last. She looked up to him and nodded, following him to the kitchen. What was in there that he so wanted to hide? They sat down on the couch, and she crossed her legs, cup on her lap as she was lost in thought. Gilbert turned on the tv, willing to distract his mind of everything at least for a bit before going to sleep.

"Gil? What was in there?," Anne finally asked. He scratched his neck uncomfortable, trying to think of the right words. But there weren't: there was no way to get around it.

"My hockey jerseys," he finally answered, his voice sad and quiet. Anne didn't look up, but he felt how she shrank. He turned off the tv. She stayed silent for a moment, remembering how Winifred had appeared one day clad in that, the 05 and Blythe on her back, and she had felt her heart shatter all over again. "Before you get any ideas- at first I chose to keep them because they reminded me of good times in highschool, and in uni I was all about reminders that there had been a good time at some point. Then they just kept lying around and I never got around getting rid of them, until… eventually they turned into a reminder, not of good times but of mistakes not to make again." She still didn't say anything, her eyes fixed on her cup, and for a second he was scared they would actually go back to her being locked in his room. "Anne, please look at me?" She did, reluctantly, because by then she knew she couldn't well hide if she wanted any kind of friendship with him. Eventually they'd have to face every painful memory, one by one. Even if it hurt like hell. He felt some relief when she acknowledged him. "I never gave it to her. She took it, and then I gave her a piece of my mind because she had no right to do so. I ended everything with her not two days after, when I realized how messed up was everything. But I never offered your jersey, never condoned it when she wore it that one time, and… it probably doesn't make that much sense to you and I understand that. But it was like that," he said.

"Ok," she said after a moment.

"Ok?" He repeated, not really understanding her reaction.

"I always thought you had given it to her. But if you say you didn't, I believe you," she said, lowering her gaze to her tea. "I can actually picture her going for it, so it makes sense," she explained.

"Thank you," Gilbert said, feeling a weight come off his shoulders. "Come here?" He said, and Anne went willingly to rest on his chest, relaxing what she could. It got easier after a few moments and she curled on him as he turned the tv back on.

Notes:

Had anyone missed the suspenders so far? I mean, they're on the tags :) It was about time we lived up tot them. And try to picture him... We trust Cole's judgement.
Anyway! A bit of a trip down memory lane for these two, plaid jacket and all, but at least no one is yelling for now. We hope you liked it as much as we do!
Take care, stay safe :)