#made this in retaliation to the Big Sad from a fic i read earlier today.

[eeboshmeebo]

I'm a monster...

Was the first thought she had when she finally got out of that godforsaken lab. Skinless and covered in eyes, with teeth hidden between sinewy muscle and thin lines of pale fat.

She still had her bones, thankfully. Stolen from the real monsters that locked her up for so long.

"Ah... fresh air."

Blood, concrete, pollution. Yet, it was refreshing despite the unpleasant smells. No chemicals or alcohol-disinfected metals in the air. No painfully bright lights. There was color, not the color of her eyes, flesh, and blood, but wonderful blues and gentle off-white clouds and... and... hmm.

No longer human. She knew she wasn't, after her power had awakened and her skin sloughed off from her body. Where her skin was now...

"Not good."

It wasn't good to think about that at all. It's a distraction, like the pain in her bones and heart.

Time to get supplies and a disguise. Rich people can provide both. Easy choice.

Western architecture in an Asian country? Must be rich people. Target those first.

She walked around behind the alleys and between the shops, in the cracks of the walls and the stalls. Sometimes stealing things, too. An obvious choice to make.

"There it is."

A large mansion in the bougiest neighborhood she could find. Not too blatant, and a bit unwelcoming unlike the other houses that seemed like they were practically saying 'Come inside and wail at how your peasants can never afford any of this!'

Nope, this house was like 'If you dare step on my porch I will use my gem-studded security systems to kick you out' kind of bougie. Damn.

A perfect target. No law enforcement officers would cause trouble and get sued by an offputting rich person just for stepping onto it, so there was no worry of being discovered for a short time.

In through the windows... ugh, she'll never get used to slinking around like this, squeezing like a roach through cracks and such.

No security cameras. Odd. However, rich people like these probably had no worries about being robbed, so minimal security.

She stiffened at a distant baby's cry. Probably in another room.

She should ignore it. She really should. The baby would compromise her, get her into danger..! And yet, her limbs were moving quickly towards the baby's room.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She opened the door quickly in her panic to find the small, wailing lifeform, and upon seeing it...

...she knew that every plan she had was thrown out of the window.

"Beautiful, beautiful boy..."

She scooped him up from the lavish crib he was nestled in, holding him close as she took a sniff. The diaper wasn't soiled, so he must be either cold, scared, or hungry. She wiped away his tears and wrapped him in the blanket

"Oh, your nanny must be asleep..."

Kill the nanny and take care of the child. But first, food.

"Can babies drink blood? I don't have milk..."

Too much of a risk. She had too many chemicals in her blood she didn't flush out yet. However, she had something else. Sweet adzuki bean paste from a daifuku she stole should be a good replacement for now.

She unwrapped one, peeling away the chewy skin and breaking off a small piece to feed to the baby.

"Uuuu... bwaah."

Seems like he's satisfied. This won't do, sugary items aren't good for babies so she'll have to make this last.

"All better now?"

"Uwaa, buh, wah!"

"Seems so."

She couldn't remember the last time she had a tone so gentle and quiet. However, that was something to think about later.

She stepped out of the room, content baby in one arm and a fist in the other. Looking left and right to make sure there weren't any servants or maids around to get rid of... none? Odd. Well, not odd, maybe they hire a cleaner once in a while.

"You're quite unfortunate, little treasure... but I'll take care of you."

She rubbed the baby's cheek, eliciting a coo from him as he grabbed onto her finger. She kept walking, avoiding looking at any mirrors in the hallway despite how the baby giggled at the sight of his own reflection.

"I don't like mirrors."

A small comment. He probably won't remember it later on in life, since his memory wasn't fully activated yet.

She continued navigating the mansion, pocketing a few valuables along the way and feeding more of the bean paste to the baby.

After making her way to the refrigerator that seemed to be the newest and only had a simple sticky note on it that said 'Milk', she knew that she had found the right place.

She opened the fridge examining the contents.

"It's all breast milk. I guess your mom can't be bothered to feed you herself, huh?"

A twinge of pity, but mostly rage flared up in her organs at the neglect that this child's parents had the time and money to buy a fridge full of breast milk, but not the time and money to find a competent nanny.

Makes her job easier, at least. An incompetent nanny means an easy nanny to replace.

She looked through the various pouches, finding the freshest one by color and the printed date. Of course, she didn't know what day it was, but chose the one with the furthest date than all the others. And that it didn't have a weird color.

"Buwuuwu. Wwwah!"

"Yeah, I know. I'll get it all warm and nice for you, little treasure."

Ahh, baby babble. Such a thing warmed her heart and the various items she had stored inside her torso.

She searched the cupboards for a suitable baby bottle before choosing a plastic one on the larger side and a silicone nib. She couldn't breastfeed, but... she could imitate it, right?

================================================

Twenty minutes later...

================================================

Safe to say, that was one of the weirdest experiences in her life.

The silicone nub went unused, basically. And that babies had really strong grips and bite force, especially for being so young.

"You're a strong one, huh? I think you'll be a very, very strong boy when you grow up."

Of course, it wasn't a certainty that he'd be a boy when he grows older, but that's something to think about later.

She burped the baby's back a few times, like how she remembered seeing others doing, before humming as she walked back to the nursery room.

She read the name on the crib, looking down at the baby that was now sleeping as she smiled.

"Monoma Neito, huh? Well, don't worry. I'll take care of you like a treasure to be loved."

She walked away from the crib, casting one last soft glance before closing the door and walking to the Nanny's room.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She put on the skin that fit her like a glove, the outfit made of comfortable cotton and the bones fit quite nicely under her flesh. The clothing was a bit tight, and all the passwords needed to be reset with a quick fingerprint ID for the password unlock on her newly-acquired phone, but otherwise, there was no trace that anyone else was ever there.

Hana Hikari, Light Flower, huh? A nice name, it reminded her of another name she couldn't remember. She wondered if Monoma would call her by that name one day once he's old enough. Calling out 'Hana' instead of 'Mama'. An amusing thing, really.

She's a monster, but there were many cases of monster mothers. Perhaps she'll be one of them.

[machihunnicutt]

whoops i kind of failed fic-vember (so have an Anne fic)

Hey ya’ll. Finals happened and then the holidays happened and I gave up on the last week or two of fic-vemeber. Here’s an Anne fic to say sorry.

Like My Heart is Hitting the Ground

(Or read on ao3.)

Anne had been firm in her demand not to work the same shifts as one Gilbert Blythe. She’d managed to get away with it, most of the time, eyieng the schedule every time her manager made it and adjusting her availability as needed. Her intense dislike of Gilbert (Diana called it a grudge but Diana wasn’t there at the inciting moment) began his first day on the job, when, while she was dusting a new batch of scones with powdered sugar, he pulled her braid and called her “carrots.” He got a face full of powdered sugar in retaliation.

But it was Christmas (and therefore winter break at the university) and Anne and Gilbert were the only two in town to run the shop.

“This will work out just fine if you stay over there and I stay over here,” Anne said, gesturing to the imaginary line that divided the back of Avonlea Coffee and Bakery.

Gilbert’s dark eyebrow rose into the mess of curls that fell over his forehead. “So I take all the orders and you’ll make everything.”

“Yes, exactly.”

“What if you need help with something?”

“I won’t,” she said, tightly. “I can handle myself.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t, Anne,” Gilbert said, meeting her eyes. She hated it when he did that. It reminded her that Gilbert Blythe wasn’t bad to look at. He had a crooked, self-satisfied sort of smile and his gaze was effortlessly warm and guarded by long lashes. And if she was being completely honest with herself (which she wasn’t, she usually counted on Diana for honesty) he was entirely her type: big knitted hand-me-down sweaters, dark cuffed jeans, Converse, messy hair, and a plastic watch with a million pre-set alarms. Anne was attracted to exclusively nerdy wannabe hipsters.

Gilbert Blythe had apologized for the carrots incident, profusely in fact, but Anne wasn’t in the habit of trusting too easily.

“Good, then count the cash in the register and I’ll wipe down the counters,” she said.

“The spray bottles are on my side.”

“Fine, will you please hand me a spray bottle Gilbert Blythe?”

“Why do you do that?”

“What? Say please?” She crossed her arms over her chest and planted her feet firmly on the tile. Her apron had a few leftover stains and one of her braids was starting to come undone, but she maintained her show of authority.

“Call me by my full name, like it’s some sort of comic book name,” he frowned.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” she replied.

“You know, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Peter Parker, Charles Xavier...Gilbert Blythe,” his mouth quirked up into half a smile and Anne rolled her eyes.

“Give me the bottle, Wonder-boy,” she said, and he obliged. “And to answer your question, I’m just trying to maintain a professional work environment.” She began wiping down the countertops, briskly, with the intention of ending this conversation.

“Could’ve fooled me, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert.”

Anne had started working at Avonlea Coffee her second semester as an education major at the university. Her scholarships covered housing and a good portion of her tuition, and Marilla and Matthew had sent her off with enough money for textbooks, but she realized her summer job savings weren’t going to cut it the hard way. The second week of spring semester her card got declined when she was buying groceries. Luckily she was there with Diana (angel among men), who covered for her. The next day she sent out a slew of applications. Now she’d been at the shop for two and a half years.

“Welcome to Avonlea Coffee and Bakery. What can we get started for you?” Gilbert’s smile when greeting customers managed to hide the bags beneath his eyes.

“I can’t believe you’re open on Christmas,” the woman at the counter said. She was the twelfth to say so in the last two hours. Nevertheless, Anne had a steady stream of orders to make.

“If you want to switch, let me know,” Gilbert said, halfway through the shift. It was the third instance of Wham’s “Last Christmas” on the shop’s holiday playlist and Anne was tired.

Gilbert was counting the remaining scones in the case. They were down to five and she desperately hoped she wouldn’t have reason to put in another batch.

Outside it had begun to snow, big white clumps that reminded her of walking in Green Gables, at dawn when the snow was heavy and untouched, blanketing the grass.

She hadn’t been back to Green Gables since school started, though she called Marilla and Matthew at least once a week. She’d tried to get them set up on FaceTime, but neither was technologically savvy enough to complete a successful video call. The longer she was away the more her gable room showed up in her dreams: fluffy white comforter that smelled of lavender and detergent, tiny wood desk where she’d studied for her slew of AP exams, Marilla’s lacy curtains that just managed to keep the sunshine out in the morning, and of course the cherry blossoms outside.

“Do you have a ride home? Or are you walking in all that?” Gilbert asked. He looked out at the icy sidewalks and she watched his jaw tighten.

“I’m walking, but I’ll be fine. Thank you,” she replied.

“Are you sure? I’d be happy to...”

“What brings you to the Christmas day shift, Gilbert Blythe?” She interrupted.

“Oh,” he blinked. “Well, I could use the extra money.”

“You’re not going home for break?”

He shook his head and looked back down at the scones. “My dad died earlier this year and I...I sold the house, so I don’t really have a home to go back to. I have a friend back in my hometown, Bash, who invited me to stay with him and his wife for the holidays, but I thought it would be easier and cheaper to just stay here and pick up some extra shifts.”

“I’m sorry,” Anne said. “I didn’t know.”

He laughed nervously. “It’s fine. It’s good to be here when campus is empty, I can catch up on studying. Pre-med and all that. What are you doing here, Anne?”

“My...Matthew, my guardian, is sick and we don’t really have the money to spare for me to fly home. He’s fine, getting better I know, but having a whole big Christmas at home would be a lot right now and I didn’t want to cause my adoptive parents any trouble. Of course they protested.”

“Of course,” Gilbert smiled. “Who wouldn’t want to spend Christmas with Anne Shirley-Cuthbert?”

Anne rolled her eyes and turned away to restock the paper cups and hide the blush spreading over her face. The shop was just warm. “Are you all alone then?” She asked, after a moment.

“My roommates have all left for home, so yes,” he said.

Anne thought about Gilbert Blythe all alone in his apartment, pouring bowls of cold cereal or opening cans of Red Bull, or whatever sad, lonely, study food he ate.

“Well, if you like you can join my roommates and I. We’re all still in town and decided to do our own Christmas. They’re both working today too, so we saved the gift giving for tonight.”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“You wouldn’t be,” she shot back, suddenly hell-bent on keeping Gilbert Blythe from a Christmas alone. It was sad enough not to have a home to go back to. “Join us, please.”

The front door bell dinged and another wave of customers came in out of the cold, putting the conversation on hold for a moment.

“What do you think?” Anne asked. It was nearly closing and she was halfway through cleaning the espresso machine.

“Okay,” Gilbert said. “If I can drive you.”

“Deal,” Anne said, extending her hand to shake his.

“You’re on my side,” he said.

***

Gilbert Blythe started work at Avonlea Coffee and Bakery at the beginning of his junior year. It was his second job. He worked assorted evenings at the automotive garage down the street from his apartment, and divided his remaining time between a full schedule of classes, homework, and the occasional handful of hours of sleep.

The day he met Anne Shirley-Cuthbert she had flour on her freckled nose and was expertly crafting a latte. She didn’t pay him any attention as their boss trained him, and continued to effectively ignore him the first shift they worked together.

“Do you know Anne very well?” He asked his co-workers during their break. Billy and Charlie were vaping in the alley beside the shop. He sidestepped clouds of vapor and tapped his foot.

“She’s bossy. She’s worked here forever,” Billy said. “I hear she’s got a whole orphan sob story. I’d keep my distance if I were you.”

“Not much to look at anyway,” Charlie put in.

Gilbert considered this for a moment. “Well, I should be getting back.”

“We have five more minutes,” Billy said.

“I know, I’d just rather spend my break inside, and not with you two.”

He tugged on her braid to get her attention. Childish? Absolutely. But he couldn’t think of another way, and he’d never purported to have the best judgment.  

He hadn’t worked with Anne much since, but he’d seen her at the end of her shifts, when he took over for her. She was great with customers; she knew all the regulars by their orders and their names. She added special touches to all the cakes she decorated: buttercream roses, dainty chocolate work, tufts of spun sugar. And Anne always looked pretty in a way that he had to try really hard not to stare at all the time. When it was warmer she wore long, flowy, floral dresses that fell to her knees and clashed with her heavy work boots. In the winter she wore the same dresses with tights and cardigans and long scarves wrapped around her neck. Her hair was almost always braided. He’d seen it down once, curled on her birthday when their boss had brought her a box of her favorite lemon cupcakes.

“You can turn here,” Anne said. She was in the passenger seat. Her dress was red with tiny black flowers. The navy cardigan and coat she had over it nearly swallowed her small frame. “My house is on the right."

This was a pity invite, he knew, but there was still something exciting about Christmas with Anne. Maybe they were turning over a new leaf.

Anne scooped up the box of discount pastries she’d salvaged and led him up the steps to her house.

“Anne’s home!” He heard a call from the kitchen and a woman with dark hair and unevenly cut bangs looked back at them. She was stirring a pot of something that smelled like apples and cinnamon and she seemed to be Anne’s stylistic opposite: heavy eyeliner, dark turtleneck and pencil skirt, nose piercing, and ruby red lipstick. “Oh, hello. Who’s this?” She said.

“Diana Barry, this is my co-worker Gilbert Blythe. Gilbert, meet my roommate Diana.”

“Gilbert,” Diana repeated, giving Anne a look Gilbert couldn’t read. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he replied.

“He’s joining our band of stranded misfits for the evening,” Anne said. “If that’s alright.”

“It’s alright with me. Just be warned that Jerry’s on his third glass of rosé already, and quite torn up about his most recent breakup.”

“Jerry’s an international student. His family's in Paris. He doesn’t fly home for breaks usually,” Anne explained.

“And my family’s abroad in London,” Diana said. “A trip they planned before they knew I’d paid for January term classes already. Either way, it’s much nicer to be with my lovely Anne.”

“It’s much nicer to be alone together,” Anne concluded.

“Alone?” Came a strangled howl from the living room.

“Anne, will you tell Monsieur Heartbreak that this apple cider will be done in five minutes and he better have his present for me wrapped by then?”

Gilbert followed Anne into the living room to see her other roommate sprawled face down on the couch. He turned his head toward them when they came in and moaned.

“Anne of Green Gables how could you bring a new beau to this sacred gathering of singles?”

“He isn’t,” Anne said, at the same time as Gilbert said “I’m not.”

Jerry rolled onto his back and put his head in his hands. “I am destined for suffering.”

“Wrap your present for Diana. Cider’s ready in 5 minutes. This is Gilbert, my co-worker. Please refrain from regaling him with stories of the many sorority girls who have broken your heart until I get back. I need to get my presents from my room.”

Diana brought the cider and offered Gilbert a glass of rosé, which he accepted along with the ten minute recounting of Jerry’s failed relationship. Anne came back and sat next to him on the couch. They all had wine and cider and cookies that Anne made with a recipe from home. Diana ordered pizza and over the exchange of gifts Gilbert learned a number of things:

1) Diana was a music student who studied classical piano for class but made her own songs on synth and guitar in her spare time. She came out as a lesbian last year and went to her first Pride with Anne that summer. Thus her gifts from Anne and Jerry were (respectively) a framed photo of Anne and Diana covered in glitter with bright grins and pride flags, and a pair of musical note earrings.

2) Jerry was an English major, despite the fact that he was dyslexic and it was his second language. He met Anne freshman year in their professor’s office hours and had had a spirited debate about Jane Eyre, which they continued over lunch every week while she edited his (otherwise excellent) essays for typos. He had the unfortunate habit of falling for sorority sisters and writing them embarrassing poetry that often found unsympathetic audiences on ex-girlfriend’s Instagrams post-breakup. Anne got him a mug covered in Brontë quotes and Diana got him a journal and a mood ring she insisted was stuck on “love struck.”

3) Anne’s friends really cared about her. They got her a joint gift, a silver heart locket that made her face light up when she opened it. “For all your love, kindred spirit,” Diana said. Gilbert couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

“Could you do the clasp for me?” She asked him.

“Of course.”

Anne swept her curtain of red hair from her neck and Gilbert undid the clasp and put the necklace on her. He had some trouble doing the clasp up again because his hands were suddenly very sweaty and Jerry, seated next to Diana and thoroughly drunk by now, started laughing as Gilbert could feel his face heating up.

“I’m cutting you off, Jerry,” Anne said as Gilbert finished with the clasp. “I’m going to put on some music,” Anne said. She rose to her feet and turned around to look at the three of them. Her form was glowing in the light from the kitchen and her hair became a halo of orangey light around her head. “Any requests?”

Gilbert shook his head dumbly and Anne disappeared into the kitchen.

“Mon amie, you are gone on her. I can tell,” Jerry said. He got up with Diana and the two of them began swaying to the song Anne had chosen.

“I’m not...I don’t...”

“Oh leave him alone,” Diana put in. She winked at Gilbert.

Anne had returned. “What do you think? It’s my usual playlist.”

She outstretched her hands and pulled him up off the couch. “Do you dance, Gilbert Blythe?” She asked. Her face was flushed too, no doubt from the wine, and she held him by his waist.

“Sometimes...” he muttered.

“I’ll have you know that tonight means nothing in the grand scheme of things.”

“The scheme of things meaning you’re always going to be angry with me?”

“If you keep giving me reasons to be,” she said, but she was smiling.

“What song is this?” Gilbert said. His head was buzzing.

“It’s called Townie,” Anne said. “I put Mitski on all my playlists.”

“We rotate,” Diana said. “Whenever we’re all together and need to play music.”

“Like at work,” Gilbert said.

“Like at work,” Anne repeated.

There's a party and we're all going And we're all growing up.

Anne swayed close to him. “I’m sorry, again, by the way. For pulling your hair like a grade schooler. I really didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with you.”

Somebody's driving and he will be drinking And no one's going back.

“You didn’t?” She asked. “I was sure Billy and his goons had turned you against me.

'Cause we've tried hungry and we've tried full and nothing seems enough.

“Billy’s a dumbass."

So tonight, tonight The boys are gonna go for   More more more.

“Well I guess we can agree on one thing.”

And I want a love that falls as fast As a body from the balcony, and I want a kiss like my heart is hitting the ground.

I'm holding my breath with a baseball bat, though I don't know what I'm waiting for. I am not gonna be what my daddy wants me to be.

The rest of the night blurred out in a haze of laughter, dizzy dancing around the living room, and Jerry pulling him aside to lecture him in slurred, half-French about the perils of love.

“Merry Christmas Gilbert Blythe,” Anne said, as she saw him off.

“Merry Christmas.”

***

The next week Anne and Gilbert had more shifts together. When it was his turn to pick the music Anne heard Mitski on his playlists, in between his old music.

“Why is it that all of your music sounds like it belongs in a 50s diner?”

“Hey, I don’t complain about your music.”

“Yeah, because my music’s good,” Anne said. She was assembling a batch of macaroons as quickly as she could. Since Christmas they’d been engaging in a number  of competitive games. Right now it was timed macaroon preparation. Yesterday it was who could make the most complicated latte art.

“I’ve got to beat you now since you beat me yesterday.”

Gilbert leaned against the counter beside her. “What did you expect, Anne? A doctor has to have steady hands.”

“Yeah, yeah, time! How fast was that, Gil?”

“Gil?” Gilbert repeated, smile growing wide on his stupid face. “Since when do I have a nickname?”

“You don’t! I...didn’t. Did I beat you?”

Gilbert glanced down at the time. “You got me, Anne. Well done.”

As it had turned out, Gilbert Blythe wasn’t the absolute worst. The past couple of times they’d worked together she’d let him drive her home. He had one of those tree shaped air fresheners hanging from his mirror; it smelled like apples and cinnamon. He always cranked the heat up to make sure she wasn’t cold, though she never was. That’s what Gilbert Blythe was becoming to her: apple cinnamon and warmth, wrapping her up as he turned into her driveway.

“Do you have plans for New Years?” He asked.

“Diana’s spending the night with her girlfriend and Jerry’s with his French friends. They both said I could tag along but I don’t want to feel like the odd one out,” Anne said. She’d been the odd one out against her will for years; she wasn’t about to do it voluntarily.

“Well, if you want...I mean I was going to ask you if...uh, if you wanted to come to my place for New Years, in exchange for Christmas.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“I know that. I’m just...” he flushed. “Asking, Anne. I didn’t really have a plan. Pizza, probably, and champagne, watching the festivities on TV.”

“And at midnight?” She met his eyes.

“At midnight I can drive you home,” he said quickly.

“Okay,” Anne said, before her brain fully processed what she was agreeing to. She didn’t want to ring in the new year by herself, not when every day of the past year had been nothing but work (good, rewarding, exhausting work) and the coming year promised more of the same.

“Okay?” Gilbert replied. “That easy? I thought I was going to have to bribe you.”

Anne rolled her eyes. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

Diana insisted that Gilbert Blythe’s invitation was more than it seemed.

“He obviously likes you,” she said, sprawled on Anne’s bed playing Nintendogs on her beat up DS.

“He’s my friend,” Anne said, flipping through the hangers in her closet.

“Then why are you so concerned about your outfit?”

Anne sighed.

“It’s okay if you like him too, you know?” Diana sat up and looked at her. “I know you think you don’t have time for romance, with school and work and Green Gables, but you deserve something all consuming and tender and warm and...” Diana trailed off. They’d known each other for years. Maybe Diana knew her better than Anne knew herself. “I don’t mean to pry. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said. “Thank you. Happy new year.”

Diana hugged her goodbye. Anne stared at herself in her bathroom mirror and debated whether or not to put on red lipstick. When she was younger she’d look in the mirror and hate her face: mud splatter of freckles, tired eyes, fiery hair framing her features. Now she and her face were on better terms. Would lipstick tonight be overkill? She looked at herself intently. An all consuming love, that’s what Diana had said. Anne smiled, and put on the lipstick.

***

Anne sat cross legged on Gilbert’s couch with a breadstick in one hand and wine glass in the other. He tried not to grin.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” She said, but she was smiling. There was a crescent of lipstick on her glass’s rim. “I thought you were making dessert.”

“About that...” he said, taking a seat beside her. He held up a package of Oreos. “I’m not much of a baker on my own time.”

She laughed and selected a cookie from the package. “I’ve got you beat in the desert arena then. I make pies back at Green Gables.”

It was 11:30. She’d spent part of the night teasing him for the poorly hidden heap of laundry in his bedroom and overly animated voice on the phone when ordering pizza, part of it playing cards and watching TV with him at his living room coffee table, and part telling him stories of Green Gables.

“I’m sorry my New Years is so boring,” he said. On TV crowds were huddled in the snow, waving noisemakers and throwing confetti.

“It’s not,” she said. She moved so her shoulder was pressed to his on the couch. “Thanks for having me. It’s nice not to be alone. I wanted to have the holidays at home this year. I feel like all I do is work and go to class now, like I'm racing to an invisible finish line. It’s hard to be away. And with Matthew sick I...anyway, thanks.”

"And what if you get to the finish line and it isn't everything you thought it would be?" Gilbert added. "I know the feeling." He sucked in a breath. “It’s the first holiday without my dad,” he said. “I’m glad I’m not alone either.”

Anne put her hand over his. It was small and warm and he didn’t move a muscle for fear she would take it back.

“What’s that song?” He muttered. “That Mitski song, from Christmas?”

“It’s called Townie,” she replied.

“Do you want to listen to it? Would you dance with me, Anne? Like at Christmas?"

She looked over at him and smiled. “It’s nearly midnight, Gil.”

He’d become Gil, so quickly, without either of them knowing. He’d become someone she looked at softly. She’d become someone who made his heart feel like it was jumping around in his chest.

“But okay,” she said.

He didn’t know when the clock struck midnight. He was swaying with Anne in his living room. Her head was on his shoulder. His heart was hitting the ground. When the song was over she tilted her head up to blink at him.

“I have to work tomorrow,” she said. “At 7, But I don’t even care.”

“Can I kiss you, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert?”

“Yes, Gil, you can.”

He did, and she kissed him back. He took her face in his hands and kissed her for a long time. It still felt too short.

“You have lipstick on your face,” she told him. Her own face was flushed and her lipstick was smudged. “Happy new year.”

“Happy new year, Anne,” he said. He could hear fireworks, but it could just be in his head. It was a firework kind of night, new year or no new year.

“It’s going to be a good one,” she said. “I have a feeling.”