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"Marianne?"

Had it been anyone else's voice calling out to her, she probably wouldn't have stopped. But this one is Gilbert's, so now Marianne is waiting for the boy to catch up to her, cold pinching her cheeks already.

The fact that she is about to face Gilbert alone fills Marianne with dread. She wasn't ready to meet the states of their classmates this morning, but now she's feeling even more miserable. Because, the thing is, she doesn't really care that much about their opinion (though Josie Pye was especially keen on expressing her own the first chance she got).

Gilbert Blythe, however, is a different case entirely.

Perhaps she should have followed in Anne's footsteps and rushed back home as soon as the schoolday came to an end.

Too late for that now.

"Are you alright?" Gilbert's question is asked in a soft voice, but it's quite an unnecessary one. Marianne is clearly not alright, and he must be well aware of that, because he adds, "I'm sorry, but you seem upset and, as a friend, I would like to able to console you."

"I-"

"Unless you wish to be left alone, at least allow me to walk you home."

Marianne tries unusually hard to keep her eyes anywhere but on him, his eyes being an object she takes the most care to avoid. She's already feeling quite unhappy and humiliated, a little betrayed, too. And spilling her heart's contents to Gilbert Blythe is nowhere among her intentions, not today.

And yet a pitiful sound escapes her lips, something between a sigh and a sob, and then words are spilling soon after.

"You're not supposed to be here! You wrote to me that you weren't coming back yet, and for some reason I cannot explain it made me feel sad. But then again, it also brought me relief, because it gave me time to think about how I should act and what I should say. And you're back now, standing right in front of me, and I have no idea what to do, because I am so... so very embarrassed by the mere thought of you having seen that dreadful drawing. And I was a fool to make it in the first place, because, honestly, what was I thinking? And now you must think me a fool, too, a pathetic one at that, and I know for certain that I won't bear to see it all displayed on your face. And I was, oh, so awful to Anne - I shouted at her and accused her of doing it all on purpose, and blamed her for my own mistake. And she deserved none of that, and shouldn't forgive me, because that is something that I do not deserve. And I felt bad for being a terrible friend, so I acted on emotions and cut down my hair so she wouldn't feel so miserable. And everyone was staring at us, and I didn't really think it through-"

"Sorry, I-"

"-and now I look like a boy," finishes Marianne, having run out of breath. And then, as she becomes aware of her outburst, her eyes widen in shock and she turns away from Gilbert, starting to walk as fast as her limbs allow her.

She cannot be the only one surprised by her behaviour as it takes the boy a few seconds to react before following after her.

When he falls into step at her side, Marianne is even more afraid to look him in the eyes. If she had been embarrassed a few minutes ago, there are no words to describe her feelings in that moment.

"I, uh, I'm sorry, Marianne. It seems my abilities to judge the circumstances fail me now, because, frankly, I don't really know what to do." Mariane doesn't have to look at him to know that he's running one hand through his dark hair, a focused look on his face. "If that is what you need now, I shall leave you be. But I would like to speak my mind first, yes?"

An unnamed sound of approval is the only answer he gets.

"Well, to begin with, I don't think you look like a boy. You are far too pretty for anyone to mistake you for one, Marianne."

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