Devoted To You || Gilbert Blythe

XLV

~𝒜𝒹𝒶~
Incurable. An adjective. Meaning, not curable; that cannot be cured, remedied, or corrected:
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It's been a few days and Mary hasn't gotten any better. Nor has the awkward tension between Gilbert and I. Sebastian was right, he is in a funk. I mean one minute he is kissing me and falling asleep in my room, the next he is making gravy in the kitchen completely ignoring my existence.

Bash opens the front door, knocking me out of my trance. I look up from my book to see him with a basket. "Some inspiration, Blythe. After three days, even you must have a taste to make something different."

He opens the basket to reveal baby chicks. Gilbert's eyes widen at him, "A bit drastic, isn't it?"

"Calm yourself." He laughs. "I ain't that desperate yet." He shows me the chicks, I pick one up and cuddle it. He whispers to me. "Please help him out. That oatmeal is looking rough."

"I thought it was gravy." I snicker before standing to my feet. I hold onto the chick and it chirps in my hand. I watch as Gilbert stirs the pot of oatmeal, the awkward tension between us palpable. There's a distance he's maintained, and it feels like an unspoken challenge to decipher what's on his mind. I decide to break the silence, a playful smirk on my face.

"So, oatmeal again?" I remark, trying to inject a light tone into the conversation.

He glances up, meeting my eyes briefly before returning his attention to the pot. "It's a reliable choice," he replies, his voice carefully neutral.

I lean against the kitchen counter, crossing my arms. "Is it just me, or have we entered an oatmeal loop since Mary fell ill?"

Sebastian, sensing the tension, chimes in with a teasing grin. "Gilbert's trying to perfect the art of oatmeal. It's an ongoing process."

Gilbert shoots him a look before sighing. "Sorry if my culinary skills haven't been up to par lately."

"Or ever." I mouth to Bash making him turn away from me to keep from laughing. I reach out, gently placing a hand on his arm. "Gilbert, you're a great cook. I was just teasing. Besides, we all have our comfort foods."

He nods, but there's a guardedness in his expression. "Yeah, comfort food."

The baby chick in my hands squirms, perhaps sensing the subtle shift in the atmosphere. I glance at Sebastian, who raises an eyebrow, silently encouraging me to press further.

I respond with a subtle nod. "For Mary's sake, maybe tomorrow, we can venture beyond the realms of oatmeal."

Gilbert manages a small smile, a mix of gratitude and something more complex. The air remains charged with unspoken words, but for now, we navigate the awkwardness, our words carefully chosen, like ingredients in a delicate recipe waiting to be unveiled.

I decided to bridge the gap by offering my assistance. I moved closer to Gilbert and leaned against the counter, the baby chick still perched in my hands.

"How about we make this oatmeal a bit more exciting?" I suggested, a playful glint in my eyes.

Gilbert looked at me, a hint of curiosity breaking through the reserved expression. "Exciting oatmeal? Is that even possible?"

I smirk. "My culinary adventures might just revolutionize our breakfasts." I scanned the kitchen for potential enhancements. "We can add some cinnamon sugar for flavor and perhaps a handful of apples for a fruity twist. Ooo! Maple syrup would make this ten times better. What do you think?"