You opened your eyes slowly, making out the details of your bedroom in the morning light. Since you hadn't slept much the night before, you went back to sleep after doing the morning chores. It was probably about noon now. Somehow, you mustered up the willpower to sit up and stretch. You were still wearing your clothes, but your hair was sticking up in all directions.

Ms. Cuthbert was downstairs, alternating between preparing lunch and sipping on a cup of tea. She was a bit caught off guard by a light rapping at the door, as they seldom got visitors at green gables. Smoothing her apron with her hands, she answered the door.

"Ah, Gilbert, dear! Wonderful to see you again. What can I do for you?" To Marilla's surprise, standing on the front porch was none other than Gilbert Blythe.

"I was here to see Oliver, if that's alright." Gilbert smiled politely, taking off his hat.

"Of course! Come in, it's terribly chilly." She ushered him inside, closing the door. "Oliver is up in his room, I'll fetch him for you." Walking over to the bottom of the stairs, Marilla called after you. "Oliver, dear, your friend Gilbert is here."

GILBERT?!

Why on earth was Gilbert here? After last night's revelations you weren't sure if you would even be able to look him in the eye, let alone talk to him. You shot out of bed, quickly smoothing your choppy pixie cut in the mirror. Taking a deep breath, you swiftly descended the stairs to see Gilbert standing in the kitchen talking to Marilla. He smiled brightly when he saw you.

"Well, I was wondering if Oliver might like to come out for a few hours." He looked at you hopefully, then at Marilla.

"Oh, yeah, I'd love to." You, too, turned to look at Marilla. "May I?"

"Well, you've already finished your chores, so I don't see why not." Marilla cracked a soft grin. "But be careful, and be back by supper time. And take a jacket!" She called after you, but you and Gilbert were practically out the door already.

"So, what did you want to do?" you mused, walking next to Gilbert as you two traveled down the long dirt path that wound through the forest all the way to the lake. This was the first time you'd seen him outside of school.

"I'm not sure, I just wanted to see you. I thought we could maybe walk down to the lake, if you want to." He replied. Your heart fluttered at his words for a moment, but those butterflies soon sank down into the pit of your stomach. He didn't mean that he way you wanted him to.

"Yeah, sounds good." You replied quietly, eyes trained on the ground you were walking on.

He looked at you with slight concern. "Hey, I brought your book. The one you let me borrow," he stated, pulling the leather-bound volume from his jacket.

"Oh yeah, how did you like it?" You lifted your head to look up at him in mild curiosity. A few weeks ago you had loaned him your copy of Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman, a collection of Whitman's poems.

"I loved it. Whitman has a very romantic gaze, you have good taste," he chuckled lightly. You smiled to yourself, sort of happy that he enjoyed it. It was sort of ironic how some of the poems in that book described your exact feelings right now.

The two of you walked around for hours, making it down to the lake and circling back. You skipped rocks, climbed trees, and talked about all sorts of topics, some deeply intellectual and some stupid, but funny. He had quite a good sense of humor, and made you both laugh until your stomachs hurt. It was the perfect afternoon, but the golden sky was slowly turning a pinkish hue as dusk grew near. Though you had already made it back to green gables, neither of you wanted the day to end. Making sure no one was around to see, you and Gilbert snuck into the barn and crept up to the hay loft. There, you continued your conversations about anything and everything.

"That Billy Andrews has really got it out for you, doesn't he?" Gilbert asked, looking over at you. You and him were laying on your backs in the hay, staring up at the rafters.

You snorted. "Yeah, it would seem like it. He's not very quick-witted, but he tries. Poor guy."

Gilbert laughed at your remark, but his smile soon faded. He sat up, deep brown eyes fixated on you. You sensed a change in the tone of conversation, and sat up too. "Oliver, I've got to tell you something."

You nodded. "Anything."

"I feel bad about what happened yesterday. There was something I wasn't telling you." His expression was grave, and there was a twinge of guilt in his voice. "My dad is sick. Like, really sick this time." He paused, and you thought you heard a slight sniffle. "I'm pretty scared."

"Gilbert, I'm so sorry." You leaned over, putting your arms around him and hugging him tightly. He rested his head on your shoulder. You pulled away, your hands still on his shoulders as you studied his pained expression in the lilac twilight that was seeping in through the uneven slats between the wood panels of the old barn. "Please let me know if there's anything I can do to help. Or if you ever need anything, I'm here."

"I know you are." he grinned softly at you, misty-eyed. There was a momentary silence, which was broken by you inhaling to speak.

"There's something I need to tell you, too." You swallowed against the lump in your throat, making eye contact with him. This was not going to be easy. What if he didn't want to be friends anymore? Or worse, what if he didn't want to be more than friends? What if he didn't want anything to do with you at all? No, you thought. This had to be done. "I'm going to show you something," you croaked, swallowing.

He nodded, clearly not sure where you were going with this.

From inside your jacket, you pulled out a small, ornate gold locket. It was a family heirloom from your great grandmother, and you always carried it with you for good luck. You carefully opened it and handed it to Gilbert. Inside was a photo of you and your dad before he had passed away- you were about seven years old, wearing a white dress with your long (H/C) hair in curls.

"Who's this?" Gilbert looked a bit confused, but smiled softly at the cute photo.

"It's me. And my dad."

"Funny, you sort of look like-"

"A girl." You stared at him gravely, hot tears beginning to well up in your eyes and you watched his expression change as he slowly realized what was happening. You could see the dots connecting in his mind.

He was silent, still holding the open locket in his hands as he struggled to process the information. "Why? and How did you- Do the Cuthberts know?" he didn't seem angry, only very concerned, and he spoke in a soft, hushed voice.

You shook your head. "There was a, well, sort of mix-up at the orphanage. I knew if the Cuthberts saw that I wasn't the boy they asked for they'd send me back." You sniffled, trying your best to hold back tears. "So I cut off my hair. I made up a new name and tried my best to pass for a boy."

"So...what is your name, then?" His eyes looked slightly teary too.

"(Y/N)."

He nodded. There was a heavy silence.

"Gilbert I'm so sorry. I wanted to tell you," you sputtered, trying to wipe away the tears as they came. "I was afraid of losing you." You looked down at your hands, a single tear rolling down your cheek. "I'm so sorry."

He didn't say anything at first, but then leaned over and gently put his hand on your shoulder. You lifted your head to meet his soft, warm gaze. "You're my best friend, (Y/N). That's something that transcends gender. You're still the same person to me." He smiled gingerly but kindly, his deep brown eyes making direct contact with yours. "I'm glad you told me."

"You are?" you asked, wiping your wet cheek with the back of your hand. "Why?"

"So I can do this." Before you could even register what was happening, Gilbert leaned in and his lips crashed onto yours like a gentle wave lapping onto the shore. Your body, tense at first, soon relaxed as you fell into the kiss. When he pulled away, he held your face in his hand, gently wiping your tears with his thumb. You simply looked at him, your cheeks warm and blushing madly. Neither of you knew what to say.

"Gilbert, I-"

"Oliver?" Suddenly, you heard Marilla's voice calling out to you from the front porch.

"I have to go." You sniffled, wiping the remaining wet streaks from your face. He nodded, and watched you go in silence. Both of you were still reeling.

It would be another sleepless night tonight.