'...the marigold light setting the hazel forest of his eyes on fire. It was selfish of him really, to take something she loved so dearly as the woods and complicate it with... with them.'
The Avonlea Class of 1898- heading towards futures far away f...
//"And here everyone knows you're the way to my heart"//
- a/n: you can play the song, if you like <3 -
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Clouds, marbled grey, rolled rapidly across a sky scattered with uncertain fleets of light. It painted the park below a frail sort of pale-gold, empty but for the two boys. Evening rushed across Toronto, along with the chill that stowed away alongside it- Gilbert felt it brush at the vulnerable skin along his palms, worn-sleeves ending just short of his wrists. Opposite him, Fred began to recount the story. Quietly, as if touching on something quite fragile.
"I suppose they were in love Gilbert. The naïve, unblemished sort of infatuation that was so new and exciting." His face is distant, remembering. Then his small smile, as he says as if speaking to himself.
"It's stupid, because you're told as a kid that a young obsession such as theirs would render them fools, senseless or somewhat. But Phil and Tom, they were as solemn as anything. They were both the serious sort, mature I guess. Maybe I half-made it up, but I remember when Tom told me- earnest and kind of blunt- that he had fallen for Phillipa Gardener, and there would be no-one else in the world for him but her. He was eleven, maybe twelve for goodness sake. I laughed, brushed it off- we all did. As the years went on, he was loyal to his word. I swear he stuck to it." He laughed.
"Wouldn't entertain any other girls. Phillipa on the other hand, her family forced her into a dozen different courting arrangements before they decided that she was to marry some fellow, I can't remember his name. It was possibly the first time she stood up to her mother- refused to commit to a life with, with that stranger. I don't know if the engagement was ever officially called off, but it didn't matter. Tom and Phillipa courted in secret, barely anyone knew."
"Did you know?" Gilbert asked.
"Wasn't meant to. But I found out, one-way or another. Inevitable really. I think Phil's friend could have known as well, but that was all." Fred answered, avoiding his gaze.
"You must have been close with Tom." Gilbert murmured, quiet enough to not directly merit an affirmation.
"Tom could have been fifteen, when there was an argument. Petty, seems so inequivalent now. With a few slammed doors and curses, Phillipa left- left Toronto for a week in Summerside. Tom fell ill and died unexpectedly before it's end."
He was so matter of fact, he spoke it bluntly.
"Oh," Gilbert exhaled.
"Yeah. As far as we know, Phil received the news over seas. But she hasn't come back since."
"That's... terrible. I mean, for you, if you knew him. And Phil as well."
"We were young, you know? It's blurry." Fred shrugged it off.
Young. Tom was basically Gilbert's age, and Phil only a little younger. Fred talked about it as if it was five, six years ago. But it had only been two. He suspected there was something a little more behind Fred's passive expression. But Gilbert decided he wouldn't push it.
