"...With love, Gilbert

P.S Thanks for the pen, good luck at Queens."

Gilbert let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, as he tenderly placed the folded letter on the doily that decorated Anne's dresser. He gently put the pen on top, setting it diagonally in order for Anne's name to still remain in full view. He let his fingers graze over it one last time, before stepping back.

He felt the burden he had been carrying on his heart lift, and he became more relieved and lighthearted than he had in a long while; he had broken things off with Winifred, and kept quiet for the two weeks that she had requested, and now he had finally confessed his feelings for Anne, the girl that he was helplessly in love with.

Since he had broken things off with Winnie, that also eliminated any chance of going to the Sorbonne, and he honestly didn't have any expectations to be accepted into the University of Toronto; even Ms. Stacey had said that his admission would be extremely late, even with the help of her friend Ms. Emily Oak. But he found that he didn't mind. If it wasn't possible for him to get in, it would allow him to work more on the farm, and bond with Bash, Dellie and Hazel. And there was always next year to apply.

He turned to the doorway, preparing to leave Anne's unoccupied bedroom, but not before giving the letter he left one last longing look. He truly did not expect Anne's favor, as she had already given him her answer that horrible night at the ruins, the night that he wasn't able to keep the hot, burning tears from rolling down his cheeks on the long, dark walk home. Yet now, he couldn't help the small flicker of hope that still burned within him.

He quickly descended down the stairs after exiting Anne's room, but when he reached the bottom, nearly crashed right into a stunned Anne Shirley-Cuthbert.

Flinching at the near contact they had, Anne jumped back quickly, and took a sharp breath. Her eyes flew to the ground, averting eye contact with him, and she primly smoothed the small white apron she had tied around her green dress.

"Gilbert," She said curtly, still looking at the floor. "What are you doing here?" He detected a coldness in her voice, but he couldn't apprehend why.

"I... uh... I-I..." He found himself to be at a complete loss for words. He had literally just poured his heart out into the letter he had left, using the most romantic and sincere words he could muster, from the very bottom of his heart, but now he couldn't even manage to put a full sentence together.

"I came to return your pen," He gasped out. He grimaced at how raspy and awkward it came out. "I'm sorry I kept it for so long. I had forgotten it was in my pocket still, and then I came across it when I was looking for the ri-- for something."

"Well, where is it?" She asked shortly, finally looking up to meet him in the eye.

"It's uh... I left it on your dresser."

"Thank you Gilbert, you may be on your way then." Anne nodded, moving to squeeze past him to go upstairs.

Gilbert felt his heart drop, and suddenly realized that he was making a huge mistake. He shouldn't have left her such a letter, revealing everything to her, when she had already given him an answer at the ruins, and she obviously was none too pleased to see him now. Although he didn't expect her to accept him and his affection for her, let alone reciprocate it, the thought of further angering and displeasing her made him feel guilty. He felt selfish that he was once again revealing himself to her, after clearly being dismissed at the ruins. He felt as if he was compelling her to change her mind, which was wrong because he couldn't push her to love him, when she truly didn't. He couldn't force her into his arms, no matter how much they ached for her. It was her choice, and hers alone to decide if she had feelings for him; and that answer was as clear as crystal.

He had to get the letter back before she read it. Spare him the embarrassment and heartbreak of another rejection, and the guilt of continuing to pressure her.

"Wait!" He abruptly shoved himself in front of her, leaning against the wall to block her path.

She raised a brow. "Gilbert?"

"I'll get it." He said, feeling his cheeks begin to flush, and a sweat begin to grow on his forehead. Oh boy.

"That's really not necessary." Anne said, looking skeptically at him, brow still raised. She tried to make a bolt around him, but he once again blocked her, now leaning on the railing of the staircase. He grinned sheepishly at her, but grew slightly frightened when he saw that Anne was growing impatient.

"Gilbert Blythe, how dare you! I insist you let me up the stairs into my room!" She shouted.

"Anne, I'm sorry, but I really can't allow you to go up there." He groaned, as she tried to dash around him again.

"And why is that, Gilbert Blythe?" She shrilled.

Gilbert knew that there was no escaping this by simply talking to Anne. How on earth was he supposed to explain that he had just left a letter, that contained his heart in it, and then realized that he was getting it all wrong, and setting himself up for heartbreak? There was only one option left: Race back up the stairs, hope to be the one to get to Anne's room first, already knowing Anne would be right on his heels, and grab the letter before she could read it. That was a good plan... right?

Gilbert sucked in a breath, and turned on his heel, bounding up the staircase, and stumbling into the hall. He heard Anne's swift footsteps from behind, and knew he didn't have much time. He quickened his step, and bursted into Anne's room. He practically threw himself at the dresser, and snatched the letter, hastily shoving it into his vest pocket.

Anne appeared not a second later at the doorway, cheeks flushed in what Gilbert guessed was either exhaustion, from trying to race him up the stairs, or pure fury. He wasn't sure he wanted to know which.

He quickly grabbed the fountain pen that still remained on the dresser, and presented it to her with an apologetic grin on his face. "Here you are."

Anne eyed the pen suspiciously, and Gilbert watched her stormy blue eyes wander to his vest. His heartbeat quickened, and dread overcame him. He tentatively glanced down at his pocket, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw that half of the letter was sticking out, and Anne could clearly see the last two letters of her name.

"What is that?"

"Nothing."

"Gilbert, what is it?" She took a step closer. "It looks like it has my name in it."

He shoved the letter deeper into his pocket. "Never mind. It's nothing." He shifted uncomfortably under her fierce gaze, resisting the compulsion to anxiously touch where years ago prior he had been painfully acquainted with the consequences of Anne's fiery temper. He could almost hear the sharp smack of her slate echoing in his ears.

He realized that he still had his arm outstretched towards her, offering the pen. When it became clear she wasn't going to take it anytime soon, he brought his arm back and let it lie limp at his side. He fidgeted with the pen for a moment, twirling it nervously between his fingers, before finally placing it back on the dresser.

"Bash is expecting me back home. I.. uh... we're supposed to be doing some work in Mary's garden." He made a quick dash to the door, and somehow miraculously managed to squeeze past Anne. "I'll see you. Thanks for letting me borrow the uh, pen."

Anne didn't respond, but he could feel her harsh stare watching his every move down the small hall and down every step of the staircase. He was relieved when he didn't hear a flurry of angry footsteps coming from behind him though. He quietly slipped out the backdoor, the same door that he had come in from when the house was empty, and made his way down the back steps, trotting back to where he had tied his horse to the wooden pole. He began to untie the rope, untwisting one section after another, when he suddenly heard the back door of Green Gables slam open.

He jumped in surprise, and turned to the sound of footsteps storming down the steps, and gulped when he saw a very angry Anne Shirley-Cuthbert storming towards him, a curl in her lip, and anger flashing in her eyes. Her braids were coming undone, and a few locks of her wonderful red hair framed her face perfectly. She removed the apron from her waist as she sped towards him, and in her fury, crumpled it up before throwing it to the ground, her eyes fixed on his, burning into them.

"Gilbert Blythe, how dare you!?" She screeched for the second time that day. He felt his heartbeat quicken, and he swallowed in nervous anticipation of the wrath that was surely coming his way. But when Anne came to a sudden halt in front of him, he was startled to see that her eyes were full of tears and were pouring down her freckled cheeks.

"Gilbert, how could you?" She choked. "I leave you a note, bearing my very soul within it, and you can't even acknowledge it? You come all this way, just to return my pen. Instead of letting me down gently, you choose to completely ignore me! Unless... unless that's what that mysterious piece of paper was, t-that you were trying to hide. Did you come to leave me a note in response, containing your rejection, because you were too cowardly to tell me in person of the news of your engagement to the beautiful Winifred Rose, the girl of your very dreams, and the announcement of your acceptance into the U of T, but then at the last moment decide to spare me the grief, because you want to prove that you an have at least an ounce of decency in you after all?"

Gilbert let the rope drop from his hands, landing with a soft thump on the ground. He felt a wave of emotions come over him; confusion, remorse, guilt. But there was one thing that couldn't stop echoing in his mind. I leave you a note, bearing my very soul in it...

"Anne," He said slowly, taking a cautious step forward. "What note? I never received a note from you."

"Of course you did!" She spat bitterly.

"No Anne, I didn't!"

"But you-- you must have! W-why else are you here, returning my pen? I asked for it back at the end of my note!" She sputtered, the tears that were streaming down her face coming to a stop, but her eyes and nose still red from crying.

"I swear Anne, I never got any note from you! I had forgotten that I still had your pen, so when I found it in my pocket this morning, I came as soon as possible to return it!"

That was, mostly true. He truly had forgotten the pen was in his possession, a few weeks ago, but when he had come across it before his exams in Charlottetown, he kept it with him as a sort of good luck charm. After that, a part of him was begging for him not to give it back. It was almost like letting another piece of her go. Forever.

"Wh... What did your note say?" He found himself asking, in a voice he wasn't completely sure was his. He shifted his eyes downwards, awaiting Anne's answer, and bracing himself for disappointment. He didn't know what to expect, but considering how distraught she had become at the idea of him ignoring the letter, he figured it must have at least some significance.

Anne, who had quietly accepted the fact that he must not have received the letter, because as furious and hurt as she was, she never knew Gilbert Blythe to be a liar, took a breath, bringing her hands together to wring them anxiously in front of her. "I said that I..." She paused, and Gilbert looked up from his feet at her expectedly.

Gilbert tried to swallow the knot that was coming up into his throat. He furrowed his brows at her hesitation. "Anne?"

A soft sob escaped the redhead facing him. "I... said that I loved you."

Author's Note:

Thanks so much for reading! I currently have a severe case of writers block, but I will finish this story as soon as I can.