Chapter Text
Christmas Eve this year
Love.
Gilbert Blythe knew what love was.
Gilbert was familiar with lots of different types of love. The love for a parent, or brother or a friend. He had read about love that had faded and dwindled, or love that was tragically lost, he knew about that kind of love, but prayed that he would never experience it or understand it.
But real love? True love? He understood well.
He had understood it since her atlas had come crashing down on his head, that fateful first day when he had met her seven years ago when he was just 14.
Shakespeare said “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the East, and Juliet is the sun.”. To Gilbert, Anne was his sun. The celestial entity that he always gravitated towards, sometimes getting burnt when he got too close. Shakespeare also said “Love is blind” and that was something Gilbert also knew to be true.
But the kind of love that Gilbert knew the most about was unrequited love. The cruellest kind, the one that almost kills its victims……...of that he was an expert.
Most love stories are those about people who fall in love with each other, but Gilbert’s story was different. He had fallen in love alone, and was the victim of a one-sided affair.
He had willingly loved Anne Shirley for seven years. Seven turbulent years. Some days he almost felt as if he had been cursed, by falling in love with a woman who does not, and will not love him back. Just the sight of her as she entered a room - whether it was in his old hoody that swamped her small frame with her hair in a messy bun, or whether she was dressed up ready for a night out, with her stunning red hair falling in smooth, shiny waves over her shoulders and her kissable lips painted red – made his heart pound and his mouth go dry. He could almost feel his pupils dilate as he tried to drink every inch of her in. Every time she would press her body to his to hug him goodbye, or every brief kiss hello to his cheek, he would try to imprint upon his brain to memorise how soft her lips are and the smell of her hair, so he could file away those sacred memories and revisit and cherish them later.
But now as he stood in the grand ballroom of the Winter Gardner Hotel with a tray of champagne glasses in his hand in his waiters uniform of a crisp white shirt, black trousers and a black apron tied around his waist, watching Roy Gardner get down on one knee in front her in the middle of the room, her small hand clasped against her mouth and the other in his hand as he presented a huge diamond engagement ring to her, Gilbert’s hand began to shake, causing the glasses on his tray to start to rattle together. He suddenly felt as if he was drowning, as though he would never be able to breathe freely or with ease again.
The crowd of assembled guests gawked at the spectacle playing out in front of them, whistling and cheering. None of them noticing the handsome waiter who quickly turned around, gently placing his tray on a table as he left the ballroom and walked briskly down the corridor as he untied the apron wrapped around his waist, ripped his tie and name badge off and threw them on the floor. He increased his pace as he banged out of the hotel doors and ran out into the snow, tears running down his cheeks, the freezing cold air making his lungs burn as he gasped for air as he ran through the blizzard. He didn’t care though; it didn’t hurt as much as the pain radiating through his soul as his heart broke again, just as it had last Christmas……