Metanoia (Shirbert AU)

Prologue

Gilbert's POV:

We all have a path mapped out for us. Some are more dangerous than others. Sometimes, paths are cut short. Every decision you make paves the way for your future.

It's always either right or wrong, life or death, hatred or love, even our way of life is a choice. My path, however, was thrust upon me. It was always full of sorrow, pain, and heartbreak. I was never given the freedom to explore the world around me when I was younger. When I was finally old enough to broaden my horizons it was already too late for me to change my mindset.

After it all, I'm too afraid to love. This cold world has no room for love. I know this because every time I try to get close to someone they either end up leaving, dead, or worse, broken because they lost themselves trying to find me.

I am the reason my parents got a divorce. My mental state broke apart the only relationship I could look up too. It started with them arguing over what was best for their damaged child. Then came the alcohol. My father drank more than he could handle. Every day he would come home wasted and shitfaced. Of course, he was a shit face before the liquor but the toxic drinks made him violent. He abused her and she would deal with it to protect me. Now that I'm older, the roles are reversed. We didn't say anything at first because he threatened to kill.

Before all that, my parents used to try. They took me to doctors, therapists, support groups, but nothing ever worked. Each thing made me feel even more empty than the last. Sometimes I think I shouldn't get help because I deserve this constant feeling of darkness. On my better days, I would like to think that there is a light at the end of this long tunnel.

Father eventually got the help he needed but tragedy seemed to follow the Blythe's, infecting their lives like the plague. Just as he was recovering from his alcoholic tendencies and addiction his doctors had found that he had bowel cancer. Most men are able to recover from this type of disease, but father's cancer had been caught while he was in stage 3 and he never managed to come out of the operating room alive.

Mother always continued to try to fix me, to make me whole again. After everything that happened, I don't think that's possible. Especially since she wasn't completely whole herself. It drove her to madness and she was never the same.

Imagine this: You rip a sheet of paper into a pile of uneven pieces. Now you tape them back together. Sure all the pieces are in the right places and they are connected by tape, but the paper isn't whole, and it never will be again because the tears are still there. Each jagged line that trails across the paper can never be erased. Of course, you could just go grab a new sheet, but sadly lives aren't as easy to trade.

I may not be able to grab a new life, but I can rebuild from the small bit I have left. Start over, but the thing is, I don't know how. Sometimes I can't even muster the strength to get out of my bed in the morning. Where would I get the motivation to make a fresh start for myself and reconstruct my pathway?

It was easy for Gilbert Blythe to make friends. In the eyes of his peers, he was the perfect high school heartthrob. Although he was afraid to love, he allowed himself to make friends in an attempt to fill the void in his chest. It wasn't a permanent solution but at least being around them made him feel something for once. He only allowed himself one night stands and casual flirting in fear that he might get too familiar too fast. At school, he was the handsome, smart, cocky, cliche popular boy. To keep his social hierarchy this mask never came off. He was just the boy that everyone wanted to date and if you didn't want to date him, you wanted to be him.

Anne's POV:

They always assume that just because you smile, it automatically means that you're happy. I never saw it that way. To me, a smile can indicate hidden pain, a subtle mask. I could always tell when a smile was forced, only there to distract the unobservant minds.

People think that if your cheeks are so high up your face that the sides of your eyes crinkle, that is a real smile. Anyone can fake that. The real giveaway is their eyes. I could look like the happiest person on the planet, but my eyes could be as dead and empty as the void.

Don't get it twisted, however, I love smiling. It reminds me that happiness is real and it is an experience that needs to be cherished. But my tired eyes are too broken for even the smallest of grins to be real, but everyone else buys into it as I shield that pain with pseudo euphoria.

All my life I've been surrounded by fakes; conformed robots that hide from society behind a facade. Nobody ever loved me. I'm too scared to be loved anyway. Too nervous to get close to anyone else for fear that they will be disgusted by me if they stick around for too long. Afraid that they will eventually see me the way I see myself. Worthless, dangerous, homely, and the list goes on.

Previously, the other children at the orphanage would always torment me about my powerful imagination and use of big words. My open mind also came with the burden of my unstoppable open mouth. The girls especially would tear me down; called me the "scrawniest, ugliest, most bothersome, freckled witch" in the entirety of Canada.

This childhood trauma has taught me to hate the body I live in. Convince my mind that I'm not perfect, never have been, and never will be. Sometimes I stare hours at a time into my mirror and point out all of my flaws. I know this action is very damaging but it reminds me that I'm still here, physically living, even when my spirit is as dead as my confidence.

Don't even get me started on all the egotistical fuck boys I have encountered in the past. I have seen every unspeakable act unfold before my eyes when guys don't get what they want. They always look like respectable young men in front of the parents, but outside of those situations they become the monsters they warned us about. Stop teaching little girls that guys are only mean to them because they like you. Yeah, they like you alright. They like you as their next target. These monsters smile so wide that they will swallow you whole, and you, you will convince yourself you asked them to.

After all this, I've learned to block people out, even though there is nobody left to push away at this point. They were probably tired of me anyway.

Of course, Matthew and Marilla cared for the girl but her mind was convinced that they had only taken her in out of pure pity.

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. The girl so afraid of the thought of someone loving her that she didn't want to get close to anybody. The bullied girl that goes unnoticed by society. The only time's someone at school, besides her three friends, would even take the time to be near her was to spit venomous words in her face.

However, Anne doesn't take crap from anybody. Her life may be shit, but this shit life gave her a backbone. Her attitude and incredible way with comebacks allow her to talk back to the people who give her any problem at school. This fiery facade was enough to keep her going but once she's back in her own room the walls she built come crashing down, as she lets all her feelings out until she has to walk through the school halls the next day.

Both teens broken from the fate of the lives bestowed upon them. One afraid to love and the other scared of being loved. However, the fates have seemed to soften towards these two kindred spirits, for they have allowed these two paths to meet. It won't be easy, for these individuals are very stubborn and their facades have been the one thing that they don't forget to put on when they leave the house.

A/N:

I hope this AU isn't horrible. I just had this concept in my head for a long time and eventually, I decided to make it a Shirbert fic. Next chapter will be up in a few days.