Chapter Text
Gilbert Blythe doesn't know this yet, but this night is about to change the rest of his life.
It’s curious the way things work, the way events arrange themselves to compose our future. The same way there's no action without a reaction, every moment will have its consequence. And the night of May 13th will be filled with moments that are about to change everything.
The truth is, Gilbert doesn't believe in fate, at all. He has always considered himself a man of science, someone determined to find the true reason behind things, who is not fooled by childish concepts, such as destiny or soulmates. However, several years from now he won't be able to avoid looking back to this night and thank whoever orchestrated his destiny for making things happen the way they did.
The night Gilbert saw Anne Shirley for the first time he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
He was supposed to be asleep at least three hours ago, after he had set his alarm to go to work the next morning and had curled up in bed after the most tiring day ever.
Now, three hours and four meditation youtube videos later, he was, if possible, even more awake than before.
He wandered around his house, desperately trying to find something that would save him from another night of insomnia. On a normal night one of his meticulously crafted playlist would've filled the air, with Bowie or Robert Smith’s voices echoing from his computer. However, this night he had the most terrible migraine, the result of multiple sleepless nights like this one, which made any sound multiply by a hundred and hit his head like a punching bag.
The house, therefore, was completely silent, and that’s why he could hear the subtle scratching on his door that began to sound as he heated his second cup of milk.
Gilbert froze and looked at his door. He reminded himself that he was, in fact, not scared of ghosts; he was actually the kind of kid that made up ghost stories in summer camp that made Charlie almost piss his pants with fear. However, while he walked to the door to find out what was causing the noise, he couldn't help to think that, if a vengeful entity did kill him that night, he would be stuck with the worst ghost outfit imaginable, as he was wearing his old and torn Spider-man pajamas.
But, to his relief, when he opened his door there wasn't any ghost there to end his life, just a rather fat cat with brown hair and deep blue eyes that looked at him with annoyance. And before he could even process what was happening, the cat ran between his legs and entered his apartment, with the attitude of someone who hasn't been denied anything in their whole life.
Twenty minutes and a few scratches in his arms later, Gilbert stood in front of his neighbor's door, tentatively holding the brown cat in his arms. He rang the doorbell, hoping his neighbor was actually the owner of the cat and that they wouldn't be mad at him for knocking on their door at such an impious hour of the night.
The thing was that, even if it had been months since he moved to his apartment, Gilbert still hasn't seen the person that owned the apartment across the hall. He always imagined them as an old and reclusive man.Perhaps an old widower withdrawn from life after the tragic loss of his wife, or an hermit who had preferred to cut himself off from the outside world completely.
However, when his neighbor opened the door, it was definitely not an old man that Gilbert saw.
In front of him there was a girl, a really beautiful girl, Gilbert will specify when he thinks of this interaction later, with the most interesting eyes he had ever seen. They were really big, crowned with blonde lashes and with a color between gray and green. He couldn't remember ever seeing someone with eyes like that; so big and expressive they would’ve been uncanny if they hadn’t been somehow perfectly balanced with the rest of her factions.
Though the thing that drove his attention instantly was her hair. It was the most beautiful red, arranged in two twin braids, and a bit messy and disheveled, as if she had been sleeping, which complimented the tired look in her eyes and the yawn she let out while she opened the door.
That tiredness, however, vanished the moment she saw the feline who was struggling to escape from Gilbert’s arms. The girl opened her eyes widely and rushed to get the cat.
“Brontë!” She exclaimed, while hugging it tightly. “I can't believe you got out again, what did you think you were doing? I told you a thousand times you aren't made for life in the city, all the other cats would be terribly mean to you” Then she turned to Gilbert, as if she was just now realizing he was there, and smiled widely at him.
“Thank you so much for bringing her home” she said “she must’ve got out while I was taking the trash” And as she balanced the cat on her left arm she held out his hand to Gilbert “I’m Anne, spell it with an e please”
____
The second time Gilbert sees Anne it felt like a present.
Almost two weeks had gone by since their first encounter and despite his efforts (that definitely didn't involve spying her door with alarming frequency to see if he could force a fortuitous encounter in the elevator) they hadn’t seen each other again.
That, until a dark and foggy afternoon, when Gilbert opened the heavy iron door of his building and found a cat in front of the mailboxes.
It was a different cat than the other night; this one was considerably thinner, had sweet green eyes and its fur was a beautiful mix of ginger, white and black spots.
Gilbert came close to the cat and tentatively stroked its head, which made the cat purr with gratitude. He took the opportunity to take a look at its necklace, where he saw a small gold plate in the shape of a heart with the name “Austen” written on it.
He smiled while shaking his head, he could only think of a neighbor who would consider naming his cat after dead writers. He didn’t even get to her door this time, because he nearly bumped into her as she ran down the stairs.
“I just noticed she was gone” She said, breathing heavily from her run “please don’t think I’m a bad owner, I swear they’re like ninjas”
Gilbert smiled while he handed her the cat, a shy smile in his lips. “I promise I didn’t think that” He said “I grew up in a house filled with cats, trust me, I know how malicious they can be”
Anne laughed while shaking her head. “They are not malicious! They're just… really curious.”
Gilbert nodded and shifted his weight from one foot to another. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around?” he asked tentatively
“Definitely!” She said, and with a last smile at him, she disappeared up the stairs.
____
The third time Gilbert sees Anne, he starts to wonder if he might have crossed a line of no return.
Until that day, everything in his life had been very easy. He woke up, he went to work, he read some guilty pleasure fantasy novels in his free time, and maybe he watched a movie or two before going to bed and doing the same thing over again the next morning. Three weeks ago there were no allusive redheads to haunt his thoughts, he didn’t fall asleep thinking about prosaically named cats and girls with eyes of sapphire, and he certainly didn't daydream about his neighbor while he should've been focusing on his work.
That afternoon, he was walking home from work when he saw a rather ripped cat toy that had definitely seen better days. It certainly used to be a cute stuffed orange carrot with embroidered eyes and a big smile, but after being bitten over and over by little fangs it had faded and crumbled in certain spots.
Now, Gilbert could've just walked away and left the toy there and get into his apartment, but a quick look up told him that the toy was placed directly below Anne’s balcony, so it wasn’t a big stretch to assume that one of her cats might’ve accidentally thrown it down. He could just pick it and ask her if it was hers, it was the polite thing to do. (Gilbert kept repeating it to himself as he went up the stairs, trying to ignore the fact that picking up an old and dirty cat toy just for the possibility of talking to a girl for a few seconds was a rather desperate thing to do).
He knocked on her door and she opened a few seconds later, a hesitant smile on her lips.
“I found this outside” He said, before she even had the chance to say anything “I’m not sure if it’s yours, but I’m pretty sure it’s a cat toy and since it was right below your balcony I assumed one of your cats might have thrown it”
Now that he was saying it out loud standing on her doorstep, he realized how crazy he must’ve looked. Bothering her just because he saw an old toy on the ground. She’ll probably get weird out and will never want to see him again, laughing with her friends about the crazy neighbor that was obsessed with her.
He was already expecting her to close the door on his face when she leaned over and signaled the inside of her house.
“Do you want a cup of tea?”
____
Anne’s kitchen couldn’t have belonged to anyone but her.
She had painted her cabinets a vivid yellow and you could see different flowers and dried orange slices hanging in strings from the ceiling in front of the window. The fridge was filled with small notes and doodles on pieces of paper, and what seemed to be magnetic poetry with different words arranging verses.
Gilbert suddenly felt ashamed of his apartment. He had been living there for more than half a year, and the only thing he had done was buying a sofa in questionable conditions in a second-hand store and hanging the Star Wars posters that have decorated his room since middle school.
Anne put water to boil in an old brass kettle and Gilbert cleared his throat, somewhat uncomfortable.
"Do you have more cats?" He asked, mostly to break the silence, "I only ask to know if I should keep an eye open for future feline fugitives"
Anne laughed "No, it's just them, just Brontë and Austen, I don’t think I would be able to take care to more, two of them is already an odyssey"
Gilbert smiled, nodding with his head "I love their names by the way" he said, desperate to keep the conversation going.
Anne smiled wild, little sparkles shining in her emerald green eyes, "Thank you! I'm kind of a literature nerd"
Then she leaned towards him and tilted her head, as if about to share a secret with him that no one else could hear. "Actually, those aren't their full names"
"Really?"
Anne nodded with graveness.
"When I was younger I read a poem T.S. Elliot wrote about how every cat must have three names" She began explaining, as she removed the kettle from the fire and poured the water into two comically big cups, "so obviously I gave three names to my cats".
She handed the cup to Gilbert. It was blue, with little gold stars drawn all over it.
"Basically the first name is the one of daily use" Anne continued saying "so these are Austen and Brönte. But the second one must be a really special name, one that makes them stand out from other cats, something more peculiar and more dignified that fills them with pride"
Gilbert nodded, although he really didn't know if he was understanding it.
"Brontë's second name is Amaltheia and Austen's second name is Medea” Anne continued explaining. “It took me so long to decide those, I knew I wanted them to follow a theme, and I finally chose names from Greek mythology, because you can always find amazing names there, don’t you think? I know it’s technically cheating, after all I’m sure that T.S. Elliot implied that the cat should be the one to choose its name.” she smiled playfully at Gilbert, as if she had been caught in a scheme.
Gilbert laughed. “I’m sure Austen and Brönte are more than pleased of the names you chose for them”
Anne’s face light up after that “Just for that you won a cookie”
Almost an hour later, after they both had finished their tea, and he had tasted the delicious cookies she kept in a mushroom shaped jar, Gilbert was ready to go back to his apartment. But just as he was walking through the door, he remembered something.
"You never told me what their third name is" He said, turning back to face her.
"What name?" Anne asked, leaning towards him.
"You said all cats have three names but you only told me two of them"
"The third name...is secret" Anne said, with a mischievous grin. "It's a name only the cat knows"
And then she recited "When you notice a cat in profound meditation, the reason, I tell you, is always the same:/ His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation/Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name”
Then she closed the door with a "Goodnight Gilbert" and he stayed there, looking mesmerized at the door and thinking about this incredible girl who quoted poetry about cats and lived in a house out of a fairy tale.