A/N - Hi! I'm so so so stressed with finals and I thought of updating bc your comments always cheer me up, so here it is! CHAPTER 11 ALREADY! Anyway, enjoy and don't forget to leave your vote and DON'T BE A SILENT READER!

CHAPTER XI

The Flowers

in which Anne Shirley-Cuthbert receives an unexpected present

It was the seventh day that Anne had skipped school. Marilla and Jerry had tried to get her out of her room, but it was impossible. She had not let anyone visit her. This was the first death the girl had ever experienced, considering that she did not remember a thing about her real parents. This was the first time that she was actually grieving for someone. And it felt terrible.

Everytime she closed her eyes at night, she saw the image of Matthew in a coffin. She felt guilty and mostly selfish. She was grieving for him and she could not even imagine was Marilla was going through, considering this is the second brother she had lost. The fact of knowing that Marilla was suffering too, made her feel even worse, if possible. She did not know what to do to make the pain go away; nothing felt appealing anymore.

However, she did know that there was one person in this world that could understand how she felt. But it had been a whole week since the funeral and that person had not even tried to visit her.

Ruby Gillis tried to visit on Thursday, but it was no use. She left a Sheperd's pie in the kitchen, though. Charlie Sloane and Moody Spurgeon came the following day after school. Cole had made all the way from Charlottetown to see her, since he was not able to attend the funeral. Diana Barry had hopelessly tried to get to her every single day since Matthew's death. She had stood before her bosoms friend's bedroom door each and every day, but she got no response.

That day was no different. It was Tuesday, and Diana was on her way to Green Gables, when she spotted the blurry figure of Gilbert Blythe in the distance. His heavy steps on the snow were breaking the calm silence of that cold winter afternoon.

"Gilbert" she said as she approached him, making the boy turn around quietly. He was wearing a thick coat and the scarf he always wore. Gilbert Blythe's particular playful and teasing smile had been replaced by a mournful expression. Snow was resting gently in his dark curls and his hazel eyes were worried. His nose was red from the cold and he was holding a tiny bouquet of flowers; yellow, red, blue flowers — a colour splash that made the whitish horizon of Avonlea less monotonous.

Flowers? This time of the year?  Diana wondered, studying them carefully. Seeing the silky paper that surrounded the flowers and the decorative pink ribbon, she figured he must have bought them from that expensive florist in Charlottetown, the one his father went to whenever Mrs. Barry was mad at him, which was, unfortunately, quite frequently.

"Diana, hello"

"Are those for Anne?" the girl pointed at the flowers with a small smile on her face.

"Yes" he said, griping the flower bouquet tightly. "I don't even know if we're on speaking terms but... yes"

His mind went back to the day of the funeral. He had given her the comfort he figured she needed, but they had not exchanged a single word. He had held her in his arms until Marilla was done with receiving people and came, telling Anne that they needed to go back home. The redhead did not say a thing, so Marilla thanked Gilbert for being there for the girl. "I appreciate it, Gilbert" the woman had said, looking exhausted. "You truly are an admirable young man"

Considering this, they had not really talked since the day Matthew died, and their last conversation did not go particularly well, as he recalled.

"Just go away"

"I'm not going away. Never"

"Please, tell me what I can d-"

"Go away!"

He understood now that Anne probably did not mean those words, or at least, he hoped so. It must have been the trauma from the shock of seeing... seeing Matthew in that condition. So, after having given her some space, he was making her way towards Green Gables, hoping to be able to see her, although he had been told at school that she had not let anyone in, not even Diana or Cole.

"Gilbert?" Diana's words startled him. "Uh, I'm so sorry, I was thinking"

The girl looked at him with an understanding look on her face before turning her head to the image of Green Gables not so far away from them. She sighed. "I believe you'll be luckier than me" she told him, narrowing her eyes because of the sun. She knew that Gilbert could possibly be the one to make Anne leave her bedroom.

"I really don't think so" he chuckled lightly. "I wouldn't say that girl is... that fond of me... but I have to try, right?"

Diana nodded. "Yes, I suppose so". Gilbert shot her a small smile before turning away from her, aiming to make his way towards Green Gables.

When Marilla Cuthbert looked out of the window and saw the son of John Blythe holding a bouquet of the most beautiful flowers she had ever seen making his way to the house, she smiled to herself. Anne is lucky to have him in her life, she thought.

"Why, good afternoon, Gilbert" the woman said when she opened the door.

"Miss Cuthbert, hello"

Gilbert Blythe had been to Anne's house numeroustimes over the past few years, but never had he been so nervous and anxious. The fact that he was wearing his best vest shirt and he was standing in her porch, holding flowers that he had bought just for her, seemed way too romantical. Is this too much? he wondered, suddenly regretting being so... excessive. But then he remembered how much Anne loved flowers, considering how many times he had spotted her in some clearing, picking up the most exquisite ones. He smiled softly at the memory of the girl, lost in his own sea of thoughts. He just wanted to see her happy again.

"I believe you must be here for Anne" the woman said, looking at the flowers he was holding so carefully. "Please do come in"

"Um, yes" he muttered. "But I also wanted to tell you that you and Anne are invited for dinner at ours" Bash and Mary had attended the funeral and had given both of them their condolences, but considering how the had spent Christmas together, their families were to some extent, close. "Whenever you have the time" he finally said, giving Marilla a charming smile that every young girl in Avonlea would die for.

"Thank you, Gilbert, that's very kind of you to offer" Then, the woman sighed, and her smile vanished from her face. The thought of Anne clearly troubled her. "Anne is in her room" she said, fixing her eyes on the staircase.

"May I see her?" he asked politely. "If that's alright?" he added, almost begging.

"I actually need to go to Mrs. Lynde's for a moment, if you don't mind staying until I come back"

"No problem, Miss Cuthbert" he replied as the woman made her way towards the door. "Thank you, Gilbert" she said before leaving the house. "For everything"

The boy stood at the foot of the stairs, holding the bouquet and trying to prepare a mental speech. He did not know that to tell Anne, in case she opened the door, which was unlikely. He took a deep breath as he went through the stairs whilst fixing his messy curls the way he possibly could. Once he had reached the girl's bedroom, he knocked gently on the door.

He got no response. He sighed, leaning his head against the door, closing his eyes, praying for her to reply. "Anne?" he said, knocking again. "It's me, Gilbert" A few minutes went by and the boy still got no answer. So he sat on the floor, leaning his back against the wooden white door.

The hazel-eyed boy sat there, immobile, with his eyes fixed on the old walls of the upper floor of the girl's home, perfectly knowing what she was going through. His eyes roamed the lonely corridor. Matthew's bedroom was right in front of Anne's. Seeing his closed door everyday, his new pipe on the dining table or his hat carefully placed in the hall, right where he had left it... must be appalling. He knew. He had felt the same way when his dad passed away two years ago. Grief was complicated and he knew she had to go through different stages, shock, denial, anger, depression, and eventually, acceptance.

When the door he had been leaning in for almost an hour suddenly opened... Thwack! He fell down on his back and hit his head against the hard floor. "Ow" he muttered, closing his eyes from the sudden pain. He opened one of his eyes to reveal the sight of the one and only Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. Still lying on the floor, he stared at the tiny figure of the girl. She was standing with her arms crossed against her chest, wearing her usual brown dress. Her beautiful, shiny hair was down, and the boy had to contain himself to compliment her.

"What are you doing here?" Oh, how he had missed the sound of her voice. It had been a whole week since he had last heard it, and in that moment he knew for certain it would always be his favourite sound in the whole world. However, her voice was not filled with that high-pitched and dreamy tone that characterized it. But she did not sound sad, either; instead, she sounded annoyed and heated.

"Oh, hi" he said as he groggily got up from the floor. "Um, I wanted to give you these" He reached for the flower bouquet that was now resting on the floor. He fixed it so that it would look pretty and delicate again, and then offered it to the girl. Gilbert studied her expression. She did not look sad but rather incredulous.

The girl looked at the flowers, raising her eyesbrows sarcastically. "Flowers?!" she said drily. "You're a week late" and then she turned her back on him.

"I, uh, you didn't want to see anyone, Anne" he said, scratching the back of his neck, pleading for the girl to look at him "Not Diana, not even Cole, I thought-"

"I wanted you!" she looked back at him again, suddenly regretting her words. They were now standing inches from each other. She paused for a second before saying her next words. "I wanted to see you"

"I-I'm sorry Anne" is all the boy could say. Never would Gilbert Blythe had imagined that the girl he was heads over heels for would want to see him before all her friends.

"Go away right now, Gilbert" she screamed as she pushed his chest, trying to make him leave the room.

"Anne, please" his voice cracked. She kicked his chest with her tiny fists, which did not obviously cause any physical pain to the boy. However, he was dying inside because of the girl's hurting words. "Go away, Gilbert!" she screamed, taking the flower bouquet for the boy's hands and throwing them to the floor, making a mess out of the neat present "and take these futile, stupid, meaningless flowers away from me!"

"Stop pushing me away!" he shouted back, exhasperated at the girl's behaviour. He closed his eyes instantly, knowinghe had made a mistake; he knew that he should have never talked to her that way. He looked at the girl's eyes and saw how they turned to disappointment to pure anger. Oh. She was mad. He bit his lip, completely terrified at the girl's reaction.

She was beyond mad at him. But in the end, mad or not, Gilbert Blythe had been the only person that had made her get out of her room. She was now running down the stairs, running away from him and the was chasing right after her.

"Stop telling me what to do and leave!"

"You're impossible" he scoffed, crossing his arms on his chest once they were in the ground floor. He liked this girl a lot, but his patience had a limit, believe it or not. "I've tried everything with you, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert!"

He looked at her now, her face was now turning red from the anger. "What do you mean?" she asked, now curious, although her hostile tone had not left her voice. The boy remained silenced as he studied her. And then, a preposterous, mischievous and irresponsible idea ran through the boy's mind. It was crazy, but he had to try.

Knowing that his kind, begging words would not cheer her up, he approached her, took her by both of her shoulders and pushed her softly yet hurriedly against one of the corners of the ground floor.

Anne held her breath as the boy's hand directed to her auburn hair.

They were dangerously close now. She could smell the boy's clean and familiar scent. She looked at him briefly, spotting the mix of colours in his eyes before turning her head to the stairs. She did not want to look at him. He's going to kiss me, she thought.

He caressed her hair softly, running his fingers slowly up and down. He grabbed then a portion of her hair and pulled it. "Carrots" he whispered, shotting her a naughty yet impossible-to-resist smirk.

"Excuse me?" the girl said in complete shock, looking back at him. She had just lost her father and this... this idiot, imbecile, ninny that likes to be called Gilbert Blythe just called her by the nickname she hates the most? Truth is she had joked about that nickname a few times, but she was surprised that the boy had the nerve to use it in such a delicate situation for her.

"Carrots" he said louder this time, before running away from her and storming out of the house, leaving the door open. Anne would never know if he had left the door open because of the hurry or as a challenge typical of her long-time rival; as a way of waying "come and chase me, catch me if you can".

"Gilbert Blythe!"  she said, now standing in the porch as he watched the boy's figure standing in the snow. The cold breeze of January caressed her skin and made her auburn locks move wildly in the air. "Come back here right this second!"

He looked at her from where he was standing, trying to resist the urge of obeying to the girl and running towards her. In any other situation, he would have ran to her the minute she had told him to, but for the sake of their childlike, playful yet friendly rivalry, he just waved his hand at her. "See you at school tomorrow!" he shouted , shoving his hands into his pockets as he started walking backwards, never taking his eyes off her.

Although it was incredibly cold and she was just wearing her not-so-warm dress, Anne Shirley Cuthbert stood in the porch, looking out at the snowy fields as she watched the silhouette of Gilbert Blythe disappearing into the horizon. She groaned because of the boy's behaviour, but then she thought about how she had stopped being sad for a while. For a few minutes, she had forgotten about the pain and the anguish that had been consuming her for a whole week.

This was her dynamic with Gilbert. Two crows, fighting all day. But they were also two good friends, two kindred spirits, she thought. After all, he had been the only person she knew that had made her leave her room, and as she breathed in the brisk air of that sunny winter afternoon, she knew.

She did not want things to ever change between her and Gilbert Blythe, not a single bit. Never.