₁.₀ SUPERCUT; gilbert blythe ✔

049.

Marianne shouldn't even be here.

Ever since Anne came up with the idea of storming into the town hall, she was anxious to take part in it. About that, Marianne will not lie; there was never a doubt whether the act would be a heroic one, the right thing to be done, yet the thought of interrupting the council's meeting and standing before other citizens terrified her.

Oh, there it is again. Marianne has called herself a coward many times in the past, but to hear that name coming from someone else's mouth is a different case entirely. Had it not been so, she probably would think nothing of the word, dismissing it just as a thing said in a state influenced by strong emotion... But, if she is not the only one to notice such a fault of hers, if others can do it, too, it cannot be that much far from the truth. And it hurts, Marianne notices, to face the home truth spoken by someone close to you. Because why would they lie?

Marianne simply couldn't bring herself to face Anne after that. It may be somewhat childish and pathetic to avoid confrontation the way she does, especially when it's done at the expense of doing something good for the whole community. But she still wouldn't change her decision to watch the whole action Anne had planned from her spot by Marilla's side instead of getting up on the stage as well.

She might as well add it to the factors that make her even more of a coward, she thinks now. There's a bitter taste on her tongue as she sits in a corner of Miss Stacy's kitchen. All around, students are chatting happily, the emotions still there even though it's been hours. In the dim candlelight, the room looks rather cozy, and those delighted smiles should only add to the general atmosphere of triumph, yet Marianne feels none of it.

Watching Anne is especially hard. The redhead girl seems nothing but happy and proud of herself while busy talking to the teacher, a drink in her hand. And even though Marianne knows, she's sure of it, that the redhead girl must be worried about the argument as well, she somehow despises her for the fact that she's able to push grim thoughts away for a moment. It's something that Marianne finds herself unable to do, no matter how hard she would try.

She finds it impossible to bear, at last. Marianne takes a deep breath before standing up from her spot and moving across the room, a sign leaving her lips the moment she slips through the door. Even after it closes, she can still hear the chatter, the sound muffled only a little. Marianne closes her eyes as she sits down on the steps, her hand coming to rub the skin on her temples.

Why must she always ruin things?

Marianne is painfully aware of her tendency to overthink things. She's already put it into words, writing that one letter to Gilbert when he was still working on the steamship. She didn't know whether making such a confession would be a good idea, considering they were yet to become friend, but it also felt good to share her worries with another soul. It bothers her, though, that up to this point she still hasn't managed to succeed in getting rid of that. It takes her more time to invent all the possible scenarios than to actually speak, or to act, just as before.

Maybe it would be better to just-

"Marianne?"

Her breath hitches in her throat when she hears his voice. For a second or two, Marianne wishes to simply hide her head in her hands to avoid looking at him. "It's rather chilly," she whispers at last, barely turning. "You should be inside."

"So should you. You're not fond of the cold, after all," Gilbert muses just as quietly. He makes no move, though, and Marianne can imagine him just standing there, hands in his pockets. "Do you wish to be left alone?" he asks at last, softly, indicating that he will indeed turn around and step back inside if only she tells him to.