Chapter Text
Anne breathes in. Anne breathes out. She focuses on straightening the pleats of her skirt, each blue plaid aligning perfectly with the others. She ignores the clanging murmur of the entire school talking amongst themselves as they take their seats in the school theatre. She pulls out the notebook she has written all her trickiest words in and traces them with her finger as though that will subconsciously engrave their letters into her mind while it’s busy catastrophising the disaster she’s about to face.
In another dressing room behind the stage, Gilbert sits on the couch, legs crossed underneath him as he tilts his head back to the ceiling, unable to stop himself from thinking about the redhead in the room over, even after a week of practice. A week of scolding himself every time his eyes flit to her as though it was as natural and necessary as blinking and breathing. A week of replaying their months of memories as sweet and hot as chilli honey, and pausing them just before she admitted that she lied. A week of reminding himself that she lied and she always has lied and she always will lie, just in case he was in danger of hearing out some more of her lies that she calls apologies.
It’s been a long week, and so to start the next they go face to face in their biggest and final battle of their six-year war. There are a thousand unsaid things between them, but they don’t need words to know that the other will want to win just as much as they do. Anne will want to see green banners, ribbons, confetti and balloons fly in the theatre, Gilbert will want to be hoisted on his yellow peers’s shoulders, and both will want what they’ve wanted for six years long: to see the loser’s face when they win.
II
Unlike other end-of-year competitions of the past, this year’s requires no equipment aside from two microphones. Just Anne and Gilbert standing alone on a very large stage in a very bright spotlight, in front of an entire school of teachers and students on the very edge of their seats.
“You will give a word for your opponent to spell,” Dr Montgomery says as the competition becomes all the more real, “and either define it, or put it in a sentence. Your opponent will spell the given word, before giving their own. You will give twenty words each, and whichever house belongs to the captain who spells the least wrong by the end will be declared this year’s inter-house victor!” Dr Montgomery smiles, turning to the captains. “Good luck to both of you. Anne, you may begin.” She walks off the stage, her pink heels clicking on the black floor as she disappears into the wings.
Anne gulps as she stares into the sea of green and yellow ribbons, her heart racing in her chest as her mind whispers to her: this is it. This is everything you have worked for. She faces Gilbert and focuses on his eyes, taking one deep breath and finding familiarity in the opposition of his curls, his tight jaw, his expectant brow, his eyes on hers. It calms her somehow, steadies her, the rush of I want to beat you flowing in her veins as she blocks out everyone watching and it’s just the two of them. Talking the way she’s been trying to all week, and he’s been trying not to.
Anne clears her throat, lifts her chin and her mic. “I want you to spell avoidance.” She watches the twitch of his eyebrow, confused at the easy word she plays. “Avoidance hurts,” she bites out, “when one is truly trying to apologise.”
The letters fly out of his mouth like niceties before he fires his own word back. “Disingenuous. Disingenuous apologies hurt more.” A clench of his jaw, a flick of his brow as if to say your turn.
Twelve letters, one ding, a roar of applause from the Halla supporters that Anne cuts off. “Necessary. It’s necessary to forgive if one wants to move on.”
He stumbles on the spelling and it almost makes Anne smile. But within this competition is another that she will not throw off balance with a smug tilt of her lips. “Hypocrisy,” he throws back, and she watches his chest rise and fall under his blue jumper, the flash of his eyes. “When one indicts another of a crime they themselves are guilty of.”
Anne’s heart seizes in her chest with protestation, her eyes snapping back up to his as she spells, careful not to forget the competition in the conversation. “Precedent,” she practically begs him to see from her point of view. There have been many times she has not forgiven him, but that’s because there have been many times he has committed crimes only forgivable by time… and love. “It’s unfair to label one a hypocrite when her- uh-“ she blinks the falter away, wincing at the ground and blocking out the taunting sounds of Caska supporters. “-one’s beliefs are based on historical precedent of six years.”
Gilbert swallows before spelling, his eyes not leaving hers as he offers, “Fallacy. A mistaken belief based on a flimsy argument.”
Flimsy? Anne thinks. Flimsy? She wonders if he lived through the same six years of hatred as she did. Flimsy?
A harsh ba-bum interrupts Anne’s spelling and she backtracks, hearing her voice and only one ‘l’. Her heart sinks in her chest and she feels like crumpling to the floor like all her dreams, but she spots Diana’s large green ribbon in the wings. Her co-captain gives two thumbs up and mouthes, “It’s okay.”
It’s okay, Anne repeats in her mind. It’s only the beginning of the competition. He has plenty of time to stuff up like she has.
But when she re-focuses on Gilbert, he is not smiling like she would be. His eyes are on hers, his brow dipped a little in concern and she hates it because she loves him and she doesn’t understand! All the tricky words she has sharpened to throw at him fall from her hands.
“Confusion!” Anne raises her voice, her eyes accusatory. “There is confusion when one does not understand why another is avoiding them, especially when all one wants to do is apologise so that everything can go back to the way it was two weeks ago!”
“Trickery,” Gilbert replies, his face like thunder, and it takes her back to that night on the jetty when all was stormy because he cared too much. Cared too much to realise he did not spell Anne’s word, cared too much to notice the confused and amused silence in the theatre, cared too much to stop.
“Maybe because after six years of ‘historical precedent’ including a very recent and blatant incident indeed,” Gilbert says, “one is completely convinced that the other is full of trickery and dishonesty and one might never trust her ever again so what’s even the point in hearing her out anymore?”
He watches it hit her. Her eyes go wide, her mouth go lax, her heart practically stop and he wonders if she’ll ever stop acting, if she’ll ever stop proving him right.
“Miss Shirley-Cuthbert? Mr Blythe?” Miss Stacy’s voice comes over the loudspeaker. “Let’s stick to words, please.”
“Sure,” Gilbert barks, his eyes trained on Anne, watching her eyes fill with tears as though this wasn’t all entirely her fault. “I can give some words. Callous. Insincere. Betrayal. Embarassment. Stubborn.”
“Stubborn!” Anne interrupts, a red flush blooming in her cheeks as raged as her hair. She shoves at his chest, pushing him backwards. “Unfair! Unforgiving! Self-sabotaging! One must be full of self-sabotaging tendencies not to forgive another when one sincerely apologises! Especially when the reason for the recent incident is because one’s mind was clouded with unclear messages from the six year precedent!”
“Unclear? I told you I loved you!”
Their breath is ragged and loud, but not as loud as his words. They echo through each and every single mind in that theatre, a silence as loud as a flat heartbeat hanging in the air, tense and static. No one speaks, everyone’s eyes fixed on the two rival house captains who have just revealed they are the exact opposite of what they seemed.
Miss Stacy’s footsteps on the stairs. Her nervous chuckle. “Alright, everyone.” Her voice is calm and soothing and completely unwelcome in the vulnerable stare off Anne and Gilbert hold, each trying to untangle the others intentions through sheer looking. “Maybe we should pause-”
“No!”
“No!”
The two captains whip around to face Miss Stacy, their expressions identical with outrage, so powerfully paired she sighs. Pulling a mic from the mesh electric cupboard in the wings, Miss Stacy says, “Fine. But I’ll be giving the words.”
She steps out onto the stage, slaps on a smile and her best teacher gaze and says, “Gilbert: acquiesce.“
The two spell obediently and correctly, but none of the tension is sucked out of the room. No one has forgotten what they said. Especially not Anne.
If he truly believes she’s just tricking him by apologising, if he truly doesn’t trust her - and she can’t say she blames him, what with how she took back her ‘I love you’ and then changed her mind again and tried to applogise - there’s nothing she can say to make it so because he doesn’t believe a word out of her mouth.
Word by word, time inches further until Miss Stacy announces that she will be giving the final two words, which will be worth two bonus points each. If Gilbert spells his correctly, Caska will win. If he doesn’t… Halla is back in the running.
But he is bested by liquefy, closing his eyes slowly as Halla stand up on their feet and cheer and clap because now they’re up for a winning chance. It all depends on the word Anne is given.
Anne, however, barely registers he’s spelt it wrong, so wrapped up in her thoughts of ‘What can I do to make him believe me?’ She figures that he’ll believe her if she does something she really doesn’t want to do - something he knows she really doesn’t want to do. Losing something dear to her is the only way to make him believe she’s not just trying to trick him, that she’s not just playing a game.
Losing. What can she lose that will make him believe her?
“Anne,” Miss Stacy says, trying to hide her excited smile.
Gilbert watches Anne’s eyes flick to Miss Stacy, shivering like a small puppy in front of a hungry lion.
Miss Stacy takes a deep breath. “If you spell this word wrong… Caska wins.” A roar from the stands, hundreds upon hundreds of students cheering out their house’s name. “If you spell it right… Halla wins.”
Gilbert is practically deafened by the wall of sound that the Halla students build, screaming and stomping and clapping before hushing to hear Miss Stacy say, “Anne, your word is… indict.”
And he knew that was it. It was over. He can practically hear Anne singing, “There’s a silent ‘c’ between the ‘i’ and ‘t’.” Practically see the red of her dress, the darkness of the Maple library, the lies between her teeth as that word - that stupid word - brings him back to that night - that stupid night.
It’s her gaze on Gilbert’s and he’s done for and he knows it, heart sinking deeper into its stone casing because if he couldn’t win her love, he’d be happy just to win. But of course, Anne Shirley just has to win everything, doesn’t she?
However, he watches with hyper-vision Anne struggle. Her ragged breathing is amplified by the mic, the wispy red hair sticking to her temples with sweat, her knuckles clenched white as she swallows. And he doesn’t understand what’s so difficult for her, what’s going on in her mind. She looks so like she’s going to faint that he wants to call the whole thing off, sweep her up in his arms, take her back-stage and lay her down on that couch, barking demands for water and space.
But he doesn’t because she speaks. The microphone squeals and everyone winces, clamping their hands to their ears except Anne and Gilbert, their gazes locked on each other as she spells.
“I.” A clench of her jaw. “N.” A swallow. “D.” A flick of a gaze towards Diana in the wings. “Um, I.” Anne closes her eyes tight, shakes her head once, and stands up straight before looking Gilbert in the eyes. She smiles on one side, shrugs on the other and says, “T?”
Ba-bum.
It blurs. As though, with that misspelled word that he knows Anne can spell, she’s swiped a hand over the wet painting he’s so carefully crafted around himself, and nothing makes sense. Or maybe, it’s finally starting to.
It blurs. The screaming of the people in the audience as they rush the stage, the yellow confetti and balloons that rain down upon them all, mixing with the matching streamers that teachers throw from the back. The Caska banners fall from the scaffold bridges up in the rafters, B-L-Y-T-H-E is spelt out in deafening cheers, the Caska captain himself is lifted up on the shoulders of his peers, but it’s blurred.
Overwhelmed with happiness, confusion, sights, sounds, touches, colour, light, and the need to find her. Anne. Anne who gave up everything… for him.
When the room erupted into yellow, cheering his name and rushing towards him, Anne drifted into the background, away from the focal point, and found it was hard not to be happy for his happiness, even if it was tinged with a bit of bittersweetness made from every dream she’s had where the yellow was green and she was him.
Diana watches in befuddlement as Anne walks quietly towards her, her eyes on the floor, a small smile on her face, apparently leaving the victors to their victory. But then Diana’s face clears in surprise as she watches Gilbert push through the thick crowd, catching Anne’s wrist and pulling her against his chest in a crushing hug.
Anne gasps, stiffens for one moment before wrapping her arms around his waist tightly and pressing her beaming cheek against his chest.
They hold each other close, and tight, and it feels like everything has clicked into place. Apologised, proven, and forgiven.
“Why?” Gilbert says when he pulls back, his face finally softened with tenderness, a fond smile gracing his mouth.
“Because…” Anne’s eyes bounce around his face, trying to fathom that he really is looking at her like that again. “It was the only way you would believe me.”
His brow crumples, touched. “You gave up everything,” he murmurs.
Anne shrugs. “Winning is sweet, don’t get me wrong, but… in the end, it was an easy choice.” She smiles up at him. “What’s the point in winning, if I’m not doing it with you?” Anne shakes her head fondly, her eyes tender and sincere. “Because I love you, Gil, and I mean it.” Gilbert sighs sweetly, but Anne pulls at her fingers, wincing at the ground. “A-A-And I was stubborn and-and stupid and awful and I’m so sor-“
He swallows her words with a fierce kiss, bringing her to him with a hand gripping the back of her neck. It’s short, but the point is made. “If there’s one thing love and hate have in common, Shirley-Cuthbert,” Gilbert says, kissing her chastely again and making Anne laugh with the confident PDA shock of it, “it’s that you never have to apologise.”
Cat-calling whistles descend upon the couple as the focus finds its captain again, the teachers rolling their eyes fondly as the students cheer for a kiss.
Anne laughs into Gilbert’s chest and he hides her with his blazer, shouting playfully to everyone to leave them alone and get a life. Anne grabs his hand and they go to walk off stage but he had his moment with his win, and Anne figures she can have hers too.
Last second, she pulls him back onto the stage and into a deep, smooth kiss with her hands deep in his curls that has the whole school cheering and whistling (minus some few jealous crushers). Once the pleasant surprise wears off, Gilbert slides his hands around Anne’s back and dips her close to the ground, making her smile into his mouth at the sheer momentous joy of him and her and success at last.
———
Gilbert’s eyes fling open wide and he pulls his hand back from his bedroom-door handle as though it’s electric. “Changed my mind,” he says, chuckling nervously and squeezing Anne’s fingers like a bribe. “Let’s go back to your place?”
Anne squints her blue eyes, takes her hands from his and places them on her hips, urging an answer from him with a tilt of her kiss-reddened lips.
“Anne,” Gilbert says, his best persuasive eyes on hers, as honeyed pet names spill from his lips. “Sweetheart, darling, baby, trust me when I tell you, you do not want to go in there.”
“Do you have another girl in there?”
The question is so unfathomable it takes a moment to process in his mind. “…what? No! How could you ask that?” His eyes seem so hurt by the question that Anne immediately buries her face in her hands.
“Gah! I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I just-“ she resurfaces, “-why else would you not want me in there?” She fixes her gaze on him, curious and accepting but unwilling to be dismissed.
“I-“ Gilbert groans, dragging a hand over his face. “I can’t say.”
Anne frowns. “Gilbert Blythe, this relationship starts with trust, so tell me the truth.”
“Anne Shirley Cuthbert,” he responds, “this relationship starts with trust, so trust me when I tell you there is no living person in there.”
He watches her eyes double in size with horror, her chest heave with a gasping breath, her hands contort into claws as though that will help her better grasp the situation. “WHY HAVE YOU GOT A-“ Anne shouts before pausing thoughtfully, stepping closer and whispering steadily, “Gil, why have you got a corpse in your bedroom?”
He’s so sure she would remain calm and brave in that situation that it takes him a second to freak out at the guess. “Nonononono,” he rushes to say, arms reaching out for Anne’s shoulders. “That came out wrong!”
There’s a moment of eye contact before Anne swiftly turns around and barges into Gilbert’s bedroom where she is immediately faced with… herself. Multiple darts stuck into the photograph of her face, the rest of her pocked with black dots from the hundreds of other marks Gilbert has hit on his dartboard. Never did she ever think she would see her face on her boyfriend’s well-used dartboard. But then again, never did she think Gilbert Blythe would be her boyfriend.
Gilbert’s heart freezes as he watches Anne’s eyes land on the dartboard resting upon his desk, but it starts up again triple time when she grabs his wrist and drags him down the stairs and out the back door.
“I told you so!” He says eventually, when they’re halfway between properties and he’s finally found his tongue from behind the fear of his terrifying girlfriend.
She doesn’t respond, just marches him through the gate and up the driveway as he babbles, “Please don’t kill me. Anne. Anne please, you don’t want to do this. If you felt bad about what you did to me before, I promise you’ll feel a billion times worse about this. I know you think illegal schmillegal, but this will actually ruin your life. Forever!”
As they stride through the Green Gable kitchen and up the stairs, Anne manages to maintain a calm tone. “My face is on your dart board,” she says, “and you’re defence is ‘I told you so’?”
Gilbert watches his footing as he trips up the stairs, mumbling sheepishly, “Well, it might take a little while for me to reprogram my mouth now that we’re dating.”
Anne sighs as approach her gable room, pausing outside her door and facing Gilbert with a quiet smile that surprises him. “Well don’t reprogram all of it,” she says, lifting her nose into the air. “There are some things it does that I quite like.”
Gilbert risks a cautious smile, his eyes scanning her face for danger. “Like… this?” He ducks down to press a light kiss to Anne’s mouth, standing back up quickly to see Anne close her eyes and reply haughtily, “Maybe.”
But he can see the smile she tries to hide and playfully exclaims in outrage, “Maybe?!”
Anne giggles, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“So you’re not mad at me?” Gilbert asks, wincing a little sheepishly.
Anne smiles mysteriously before opening her bedroom and gesturing to the dart-board hanging on her wardrobe door, Gilbert’s own face taking pride of place upon it.
“Aw,” Gilbert says, slinging an arm around Anne. “Hashtag couples goals.”
“Kindred spirits.” Anne leans up on her tip-toes to press a smiling kiss to her boyfriend’s cheek.
“You got a bull’s eye,” he comments, pointing to the board.
“Yeah. Six years of practice makes me hell of a good shot.”
“Six years of practice makes me better.”
“Aha!” Anne scoffs a laugh, turning to Gilbert and crossing her arms daringly. “Wanna bet, vegetable boy?”
“You are so on, Carrots,” Gilbert says, sliding his hands around Anne’s waist.
“Keep calling me that and people are gonna think it’s a pet name.” Anne’s hands slide up to Gilbert’s shoulders as she steps closer, a smile curving both of their lips.
“Good. Because it totally is…” He murmurs, and meets her in the middle with a slow, loving kiss.