Yours truly, Gilbert | 𝐆𝐈𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐓 𝐁𝐋𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐄

thirteen

In that moment, my heart hurt for Gilbert Blythe. The same hurt I felt that day I ingored him, but this time it was worse. He just admitted he cared deeply for me, and I'd have to crush it. Because during this, my mind constantly wondered back towards the mystery boy, and how I'd done the exact same thing.

That's another thing that made this so hard. I knew how this felt. Feeling rejected, or finding out the person you love, loves someone else.

Love. Did I just admit I loved him? My partner? Whoever he was? I thought I'd feel more overwhelmed, but it felt refreshing to be sure of my feelings.

I loved him.

I looked back up to Gilbert with teary eyes, and when he saw this, it was as if he already knew. He started to pull his hand back, and took a small shaky breath.

"Gilbert, I'm sorry." Was all I could whisper. "Trust me... I— I know how this feels."

"No you don't." He said in a low tone, his gaze was down too. He shook his head, gradually getting faster.

"Yes Gilbert, I do—"

"What boy would reject you?" He asked loudly, shrugging his shoulders. It felt as if he would explode at any second.

I closed my eyes and felt more tears swell. When I opened them again, Gilbert was walking back slowly, hanging his head low.

I ruined it. I ruined our relationship, our friendship over stupid unrequited love. Love over a boy who doesn't know who I am, and doesn't want me back.

When I walked into the classroom, my chin was tucked into my chest, and I had faintly pink tear stained cheeks. Gilbert kept his eyes on the board or his desk.

I was thankful Josie nor anyone tried to say anything.

"Good morning, take out your pencils, we're writing to our pen-pals." Mr. Phillips said.

My heart sank, what on earth could I say now? I had to hear his response first, I had to hear his reaction. I couldn't write anything yet.

When Mr. Phillips walked by my desk and saw an empty page, he huffed. "Ms. Clarke, you need to participate in my class." He said sternly. A few kids turned their eyes, but most went back to work.

He exhaled loudly, "Ms. Clarke if you don't—"

"Fine." I interrupted loudly. There was a few seconds of silent before Mr. Phillips nodded and stalked off, checking the rest of the pages.

Before I read your letter, I'm writing you this. One, I know you read the note I placed under the mat yesterday because it was gone this morning.

And two, I did mean what I said. Everytime I think of your notes, my cheeks redden, I get a warm feeling in my stomach, my heartrate quickens and I can barely talk. Your words make me happy so whoever you are, yes, I care about you.

There I said it. I know you love someone else, but I just had to tell you. I had to get this weight lifted off my chest. So go ahead and tell everyone. Wave it in the air during lunch. Brag about it to Billy Andrews. I just wanted you to know.

I didn't realize my breathing was so loud. When I dropped the pencil, Anne, Diana and Josie were all staring at me concerned.

"Headache." I mumbled, looking at each of them. "It might be because of my arm."

My arm injury happened long ago, but it still worked well enough as an excuse.

They shrugged, and went back to writing as Mr. Phillips started collecting the letters.