The thing about Gilbert Blythe is that he's so farking popular.
Anne Shirley-Cuthbert doesn't normally concern herself with petty, nonsensical campus social hierarchies but it's somehow ridiculously impossible to be unbothered by it still when the universe promptly decided to give her the ultimate cosmic punishment of having her develop unwanted feelings— unreasonable affectations that she's convinced will lead to her ruination—for a boy whose mere presence could trigger a never ending wave of nauseating giggles.
It's odious, and preposterous and utterly unlike her and she copes the only way she knows how—by putting Taylor Swift's entire discography on repeat while the world goes absolute shit.
"You're being ridiculous, Anne." Diana says primly as she adjusts her hat—an old baseball cap some French boy from art class who she passionately insists is just a friend lent her.
"Ridiculous, Di?!" Anne exclaims, frustration bubbling inside her. "I'm currently in the midst of the most excruciating crisis here!"
Diana sighs, and shakes her head, smiling in spite of herself. "It's just a crush, Anne. You speak as if it's the end of the world."
"It feels like it." Anne grumbles from her seat.
Ruby, strategically placed in between the two girls, paid their exchange no mind and instead kept her eyes trained on the soccer field where the subject of her friend's internal torment was currently at. Sweaty and glorious under the summer sun, Gilbert Blythe, most beloved soccer captain of Avonlea High, scores and the girls from the other side of the bleachers cheer in delight.
"I can't blame you though, Anne. Sad boys are truly attractive." she says eventually, her tone turning dreamy at the sight of Gilbert Blythe in his soccer kit.
Anne gasps indignantly, scandalized by the mere notion. "You embarrass me, Ruby Gillis." she whispers vehemently. "To even allow yourself to waste precious time into thinking—"
"What of it? You speak of the woeful Mr. Darcy all the time —"
Anne gapes at Ruby, too lost for words at the unjust comparison, not to mention the most absurd statements coming out from her mouth.
Diana, however, could only laugh. "Oh my gosh, how I wish the other girls were here to hear this."
"Don't act as if you haven't noticed, Anne." Ruby continues, seemingly unaware of the stricken look on Anne's face. "A brooding Gilbert Blythe is a gift from the heavens above, don't you agree?" the blonde quips, ignoring the ensuing barfing noise from her redheaded friend, and glances at Diana with a conspiratorial grin which the latter easily returned.
"Indeed, Ruby. Plus he's the most dashing boy in his year and actually has the brain to verbally spar with you, Anne. Isn't that just the most romantic?" Diana gushes teasingly before the two burst into undignified squeals.
Anne, horrified by their display, suddenly rose from her seat. "I will not tolerate this atrocious conversation any longer lest my ears start to bleed ." She hisses before giving her two laughing companions the iciest glare she could muster and turns with a dramatic flair. She will not, under any circumstance , stand by and let her most tragic realization be the subject of their entertainment.
God. To think she even permitted herself to be dragged by her unhinged, sinister friends to watch a couple of annoying boys practice passing around a farking ball! It's not even worth witnessing firsthand the mortifying lack of skills Billy Andrews possesses in the game of soccer.
She grits her teeth.
Everything as of late has been the most maddening experience.
It's absolutely appalling how her eyes would automatically dart to any available surface in search of that person and the way she has to deal with that faint subtle disappointment settling in her chest when she realizes he's not there. It's all a farking hassle really, and she does not need this right now. The distraction is unwarranted and she just doesn't have the extra energy to deal with the emotions that come with it. What she ought to do is focus on her grades because, factually speaking, those are immensely vital and feelings are not.
She does not care for sitting on the bleachers during a farking heat wave and giggle over boys playing soccer on the field or draw hearts around their names at the back of her notebooks or even succumb to the idioticness of risking suspension for vandalizing the bathroom walls with their initials enclosed by poorly drawn hearts with a farking plus sign in the middle—no. She does not indulge in those. . .nasty, unbecoming habits, and she does not simply develop. . .feelings for someone like Gilbert Blythe.
The bane of her farking existence.
He is a nuisance, and she's convinced it's just the demonic spirit of patriarchy manipulating the farking universe into getting in her way and she loathes every second of it.
Yet.
Yet.
Somehow, in the most mysterious of ways, almost due to some sort of witchcraft, she's quite convinced— sorcery, even—there are these sudden moments of sheer absurdity where she's overcome by euphoria and that strange, tingling sensation at the mere thought of him. The inconvenience of rising brittle anticipation. It's unaccountable, how she one day woke, and her heart treacherously decided to empathize with the excitement surrounding the revival of the Notice-Me-Board and felt deeply when Mr. Knightley from Jane Austen's Emma declared in a shared moment of vulnerability If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more . She hates it, with every fiber of her being and finds the whole thing extremely ludicrous and unnecessary and nothing about it meaningfully contributes to her immediate concern which are her college admissions, and the solution to climate change.
It is, for short, a complete waste of time.
So she stomps, glares and grumbles her way out of the field and does not care if she's behaving like a petulant child because she's upset, immensely so, and has every right to be when she's endowed with such unfortunate circumstance she cannot bear another moment existing in the same realm as that boy.
She huffs, vexed as she could possibly be, and in her desperate haste to get away from it all, almost slips on her way down the bleachers. It was just the cherry on top of her growing number of misfortunes, she deduces.
She sighs, looking heavenwards. The universe truly has it for her. "For once in my life, cooperate!" She cries out to no soul in particular.
Saturdays were supposed to be hours of getting lost in between the pages of her favorite book instead of having her dignity compromised in the guise of inter level unity for the upcoming school year. Dear lord and everything that's holy, grant me the patience and the strength to endure this nonsense .
In her attempt to save face, she squares her shoulders and lifts her chin as high as she could, paying the other nosy onlookers no heed, and proceeds down the steps in a mix of grace and speed. The failure to execute both departments is not lost on her.
But like clockwork, just when she thinks the worst is over, the stars would take that exact moment to align and manifest the most dreadful scenario her brain could ever conjure.
And they do not disappoint.
It's when she's almost out of the field and into the safety of the halls of Avonlea High when Ruby and Diana holler her name from afar and in that split second she turns, she catches a glimpse of Gilbert Blythe scoring once again. His team immediately runs to him and sings him high praises, looking quite the picture with his unruly dark curls in the most charming disorder.
She steadfastly refuses to swoon.
"Anne!" Diana calls with Ruby frolicking in tow. Anne pinches the bridge of her nose. "Did you see how amazing of a shot that was?"
"No, I definitely did not nor do I care." The redhead deadpans, determined to ignore the way Christine Stuart was running towards Gilbert in her endeavor to suffocate him with her overly enthusiastic embrace. Ridiculous!
"I, for one, find it amazing how you manage to keep a straight face, Anne. I could never portray such flawless indifference in the presence of my love." Ruby says teasingly, a knowing smile on her lips.
Anne narrows her eyes and before she could give her blonde friend a stern talking-to regarding her myriad of unsolicited commentaries about her life, Diana interjects with a cough.
"Anne, he's approaching." She whispers in warning though her eyes were brimming with almost unrestrained excitement.
The redhead turns to see and true enough, the sight that greeted her was that of Gilbert Blythe, striding towards her with his duffle bag slung over one shoulder. She feels her breath hitch.
He was truly the most gorgeous boy to ever walk the lands of PEI, she thinks solemnly.
She was just lamenting over her despondent acceptance of her unfortunate fate when the impossible occurs: he catches her gaze despite the many feets and inches in between, and it's the mortifying ordeal of being caught ogling that will keep her awake at night for the days and weeks and months to come.
He's just so pretty.
Her ultimate downfall served on a silver platter.
"Anne," He breathes once within hearing distance, the corners of his eyes crinkling in an achingly familiar way that makes her want to get back on that research about cardiovascular diseases. "You're not leaving are you?"
She hastily looks away, forcibly willing to keep the flush from erupting across her face. Good god, she's embarrassed enough as it is; if he sees her getting all flustered over his mere attention, he'd never live it down, she's absolutely sure of it.
"Yes, well. Unlike the rest of you, I actually have more pressing things to attend to than play sports ." She says irritably, trying to stop her voice from shaking.
"I see." He says with a nod, hands deep in his pockets. "Which reminds me, I do recall promising Matthew and Marilla I'd help out in the Diner right after practice."
Upon hearing his words, Anne completely froze. " What? " she blurts in utter disbelief. As if being plagued by his presence at school isn't enough!
"No—" she begins to say, then winces at the confused look on Gilbert's face. "What I mean is, you're not obligated to. It's fine, truly . I mean, don't you want to go and hang with your friends instead?" she amended with a hopeful smile.
Gilbert appraised her, tongue in cheek, oblivious to her growing pains and patience wearing thin. He appears thoughtful for a split second before he takes a step forward, leaning closer to Anne. From the side, Ruby and Diana simultaneously cover their mouths in shock at the scene unfolding before them.
Anne was sure she was one second away from combusting into nothing . This close, with so little distance between them to act as some sort of buffer lest she develops some serious heart condition, she fears she'd never resurface from the depths of his earnest hazel eyes, too lost in the dreamy gold specks of bursting sunsets and many summer promises it held.
She remained frozen, too shocked to internalize the horror that has become her life. Then, without warning, as if the universe was on a personal vendetta against her, Gilbert presumptuously covers her forehead with the back of his hand. "Are you quite alright, Anne?" He says, voice deep and brows furrowed in concern. Ignorant of the redhead's rapidly increasing desire to be buried alive, he leans further to inspect her closer, defying every proper social etiquette written in existence and the concept of personal space altogether. "You look feverish."
Unexpectedly, and thank god, it was the annoying poor attempt at a come-hither voice of Christine Stuart that snaps her out of the evil induced trance that she was in.
She blinks, and as if anatomically possible, all blood rushes to her face at the full realization of what had occurred, which she knew was a total nightmare considering her god-awful pale complexion.
"Anne—" Gilbert starts, still painfully unaware of what his close proximity does to her sanity, then urgently, frantic even as Anne steps back but whatever he was about to say was left unsaid as she abruptly turns, and without a second thought, dashes for the exit as if her whole life depended on it.
Which, in hindsight, was actually true.
She barely hears Gilbert and Cinderella's evil step sisters call after her over the loud ringing in her ears.
Once at the safety of her destination, she catches her breath for a moment, then because she's fated to be impulsively stupid and easily manipulated by the inevitable onslaught of adrenaline, she chanced a glance at the boy she ran just away from and sure enough, there he was: gaze still at the direction of her escape.
That's when Anne knew, for sure, that she's truly and irrevocably done.
The dark side has triumphed and she's left bloodied and beaten amongst the debris of what used to be her life free from the illusions of curly haired summer princes with disarming smiles that should be made illegal as it could potentially become a threat to national security.
No longer was she the bride of adventure; she was now free falling into the void of misery.
Because, here's the thing:
Gilbert Blythe is just so farking popular.
And while she does not, under normal circumstances, concern herself with petty, nonsensical campus social hierarchies, it's somehow ridiculously impossible to be unbothered by it still when the universe and her treacherous heart sadistically conspired against her, bestowing her the ultimate cosmic punishment of developing unwanted feelings— unreasonable affectations that she's convinced will lead to her ruination—for a boy whose mere presence could trigger a never ending wave of nauseating giggles.
It's odious, and preposterous and utterly unlike her and she copes the only way she knows how—by putting Taylor Swift's entire discography on repeat while the world goes absolute shit.
Note: Hello friends! This fic has been collecting dust in my folders for quite sometime now so I'm extremely happy to be able to finally publish it online! lol Hope you guys enjoy the fruit of my awae hyper fixation while I was on quarantine. Keep safe!
