Anne Shirley-Cuthbert had strolled through life not giving the slightest damn what Gilbert Blythe had thought of her.

But now that she was standing not 100 yards away from him, she couldn't find the way to approach him.

From Green Gables to here, there was only one thought in her mind, to find Gilbert.

Now that she was here? She didn't know what to say.

Anne stared at his back as he continued to walk away from her, to the town barely seen in the distance. She was sure he could feel the holes she burned into his back with her stare.

The sun was low in the sky now, painting the landscape in shimmering gold.

'How romantical.' Anne thought. She couldn't help but remember something she had once read, perhaps in one of her many novels, 'Everything is beautiful when you are in love.'

In a different story, this delicious stage could be less devastating.

She clutched her pinafore, wringing it in agitation while she once again brought her attention to the boy walking away from her.

Her heart lurched and soared when she thought of him, his crinkled eyes when he laughed, his diplomatic personality, his intelligence, his... everything.

Memories flooded her busy mind, and Anne didn't stop them.

She remembered that first day when she'd met him in the woods, how she practically ran from him. And again when she hit him across the head with her slate. Anne cringed at that.

'Oh, Gil, how could you ever forgive me for that.' She thought to herself.

But oh how he said that! She still remembered how he delicately whispered to her, like a lover confessing their passion to each other. He cradled the words like they were the most important thing to him in the world.

Anne shivered.

She could still feel his warm breath fan over him as he confessed, and the gentle tug on her hair.

She felt as if she could cry. Anne held her braids now, running her fingers over the free tresses.

More visions swarmed her mind as she stood there staring.

His father's funeral, Church, Christmastime, Mary's death, the protest.

Memories of his laugh, his smell, his smile, his tears, his arms around her, his loves, his fears, him.

Anne felt all the memories rush through her, and she felt herself grip tightly on to each one.

She didn't want to let go.

And then her mind came to a schreeching halt.

The party.

Even though it was mere hours ago, it felt as if it was a lifetime ago.

She could picture the fire dancing up, up, and up and kissing the moon.

All of her friends around her, laughing, cheering, rejoicing. She remembered the distinct warmth of liqueur in her tummy, rushing to her cheeks. She could remember the way she felt she could soar to the highest star and prick it right out of the ink sky. The carefree feeling.

And then she saw him.

The jumping light framed his face, giving life to his sorrowful eyes. The glow made him look positively radiant, his brow and jaw looking as if they were carved from stone.

She recalled how he looked at her, with such a grim, despaired stare. How she wished she could smooth that brow with her thumb and kiss his sadness away at that moment.

Once again he used that voice, the passionate whisper, now plagued with sadness.

'Can I talk to you?' Dream Gilbert asked.

Anne relived the look he had given her, full of desperation and love after he had proposed. Her heart gave a painful wrench in her chest.

'Oh! My dear Gibert!' Anne cried to herself, 'Why do I have to be so daft!'

If she'd had thought for just a moment, or chased after him, she wouldn't be in this situation.

Watching her beloved walk away from her.

Then she looked back at him. Really looked.

His tall slender figure was dressed in his best clothes a pair she'd never seen before. A pale grey suit and boots that looked just freshly shined. He oozed charm and intelligence as he walked through the field.

And then she remembered.

Winnifred.

Anne could feel her heart jump into her throat once more, tears welling up in her pale blue eyes.

Her chin began to tremble as the feeling of hopelessness returned.

'He's going to propose.'

She found herself clutching at her face, her desperate fingers wiping away the heavy fat tears rolling down her freckled cheeks.

'I'll finally get my tragical romance.' Anne thought grimly, not quite as enamored with idea as she once was.

Her heart was heavy and tired as she felt herself start to lose him.

With every step he took farther away from her, the less of him she could feel in her heart.

As he left her life, he took all the memories of him as well.

Anne felt every trace of him start to slip, to become unstable, and fly back to their owner.

And before she knew it, she was chasing them back to him, desperation clouding her senses.

She couldn't lose him.

Her feet had the mind to stop not but a few feet away from him, when the boy had turned to look at the approaching sound.

His expression went from suprise to uncertainty in the blink of an eye.

Anne locked her eyes with him, and all the air whooshed out of her body.

She then just realized how she must've looked. Hair all windswept, far from the neat and tidy braids she had set it in this morning, face red and puffy. Her lovely green dress stained with mud.

Anne felt ashamed and looked down at her shoes.

And then she heard him speak.

"Anne?"

She heard his footsteps crunch in the leaves as he made his way closer and she lifted her head to look at him.

His brow was furrowed, concern ebbing at his eyes as he searched her's for an answer.

Well, she decided she would give him one.

"I- I didn't know what to say." Anne started, her voice quivering with emotion. "And I suppose I still don't. But-"

She stopped to swallow the block in her throat.

"-I, I don't think that I can live without you Gilbert."

She watched as his eyebrows lifted and his lips parted.

"So, if there's a chance, even the slightest, that you would still consider what you proposed last night, then, I will take it gladly."

Her voice became nothing short of a whisper when she uttered those words, but from his heavy stare, she knew he heard her.

He was silent for what seemed like an eternity, searching her eyes for any trace of mischief. He found none.

And so, without a second thought, Gilbert Blythe took his dear beloved's face into his hands and kissed her, with all of the passion he could muster.

When they had parted, Gilbert set his forehead against Anne's and whispered, not unlike the way he had before getting his head smacked with a slate:

"Marry me then, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert."

Anne whispered back,

"Of course."