Chapter Text
When Anne Shirley-Cuthbert was bouncing around from foster home to foster home, stuck in a system that treated her no better than a burden, she never dared hope that one day she might make it to university. She could hardly hope to make it through middle school—she’d been forced to transfer so many times, a different school for each different family, that she hardly thought she’d make it out of eighth grade in one piece.
That was the year the Cuthberts found her, though. The year Anne felt, for the first time, as though she could make a permanent home in the green-gabled house, the quietly loving siblings, that took her in.
The moment her adoption papers were signed, she never dared look back. It was as if an entirely new world opened up for her—a high school in Charlottetown, a stellar GPA, and above all else: the unwavering support of her new family, who encouraged her to chase her dreams no matter how far-fetched they may have seemed.
In all truth, the education program at U of T wasn’t so unattainable, but Anne worked and worked and worked so that no obstacles might stand in her way, and sure enough it paid off. Literally, in the form of a full scholarship that included room and board, a meal plan, and even a stipend for textbooks. Marilla and Matthew had been so proud of her that she’d seen them both cry for the first time in five years. And that was the moment her own heart soared, for the pride shining in their eyes directed at her and her alone.
She remembers the looks on their faces as she decorates her side of her dorm room. Her parents left her about half an hour ago, and already she aches for them to come back to her. She’d put on a brave face when they were saying their goodbyes, but all she wanted was to cry and throw her arms around them and force them to bring Green Gables to Toronto so that she’d never have to leave her home behind.
That was an impossible dream, though—instead she puts her energy into turning her wall into a collage of happy memories with her family, from photos to pressed flowers from their garden to little string lights that remind her of the way the sun would throw its shadows across her wooden floor as it rose at dawn and set at dusk.
She is so thoroughly engaged in her task that she does not notice the entire family shuffling into the room behind her until it’s too late.
Three things happen in quick succession then. One, Anne becomes aware that someone is clearing their throat rather loudly, as if to catch her attention. Two, Anne startles and turns around quickly to greet the four strangers staring at her. Three, Anne forgets how narrow her new dorm bed is and subsequently catapults herself off of it, landing face-first on the floor at the feet of the family.
Immediately there are gasps and inquiries about whether she is okay, but Anne just does her best to laugh it off, hating her pale skin for how it gives away her flush. She’s certain that as she stands and brushes off her shirt her face is beet red, but when she meets the eyes of a girl who appears about her age—chocolate brown ringlets, warm eyes, and a stunningly kind smile—she no longer feels embarrassment.
Oh, how she hopes this girl is her roommate—somehow, even as she asks Anne again if she’s okay, she does so in a way that convinces Anne that she isn’t judging her at all. Rather, she really is concerned for Anne’s well-being.
It is a rare gift, the ability to make Anne Shirley-Cuthbert feel comfortable so quickly. Years of bullying and abuse from her peers and foster parents had put her on the defensive at all times. This model of a girl makes Anne want to let down all of her walls.
“I—hello,” Anne exhales, amazed at the other girl’s graciousness as much as her beauty.
Her smile is blinding. “Hello. I’m Diana Barry. You must be Anne.”
Anne nods perhaps too vehemently. “Y-yes, that’s me. Anne is spelled with an E, of course, so if you wouldn’t mind speaking it as such, I would appreciate it greatly.”
Diana nods very seriously, though the grin teasing the corners of her lips gives away her amusement. Anne grins, too—her roommate’s smile appears to be contagious.
“Of course,” she says. She pauses when the woman beside her—likely her mother—clears her throat again. “Oh, these are my parents, and my little sister Minnie May.”
Anne smiles politely and waves at the family. They greet her kindly, but then Minnie May, who can’t be more than ten years old, stomps up to Anne.
“You fell on your face just then,” she declares, and Diana’s eyes widen.
“Minnie May,” she hisses.
Anne just laughs brightly and waves it off. “I did, yeah. Pretty silly of me, huh?”
“It looked fun. Can I try?”
“That’s enough, Minnie May,” Mrs. Barry interrupts, then offers Anne an apologetic smile. “Sorry, dear.”
“It’s no problem at all, really.”
“Let me flip off the bed, Mum, please—”
The rest of the time spent with the Barrys passes in much the same fashion, with Minnie May doing or saying something her family deems inappropriate and Anne laughing it off, mostly because the girl is actually quite funny. Once Diana’s side of the room is set up to her mother’s liking and her father has collapsed into the desk chair after hefting all the heavy bedding into the room, the family says their goodbyes, and Anne and her new roommate are left all alone.
Diana immediately drops onto her bed, letting out a great, big sigh.
“I love my family, but they can be so very exhausting,” she breathes.
Anne mimics her roommate on her own bed and tilts her head to look at the photo that’s eye-level with her: her, Matthew, and Marilla riding a hot air balloon at a county fair, Marilla looking terrified, Matthew smiling bigger than she’d ever seen him do, and Anne positively vibrating with excitement. She smiles softly.
“Is your family like that?” Diana asks, and Anne grins.
“I think if anything, they find me exhausting.”
Diana laughs a bit. “You do have a way of making your presence known.”
“You startled me!” Anne laughs, rolling over to face her roommate.
Diana does the same, laughing as well. “You went head-over-feet because I cleared my throat?”
“I was extremely engrossed in the most significant, Herculean task I will ever undertake at uni—decorating my side of our dorm room.”
Diana laughs again. “You have such an interesting manner of speaking, Anne.” Anne doesn’t have a moment to wonder if that’s a bad thing before Diana continues. “I adore it. Should we go get some food at the dining hall? I hear their grilled cheeses are to die for.”
It is then that Anne decides that Diana Barry must be her platonic soulmate. A kindred spirit for the ages.
“I would love nothing more,” she says earnestly.
Diana grins that marvelous grin of hers, and the girls set off on their own for the first time arm-in-arm, side by side.
Anne allows a gentle bloom of hope to spring in her chest—that this friendship of theirs might last forever, that she will never have to fear being all on her own again. She squeezes her eyes shut tight for a moment and wishes it into the wind as it blows her fiery hair around her face.
Would that it had been so simple.
*
Over the course of lunch, Anne learns quite a bit about Diana. Apparently, she grew up in a small town on PEI called Avonlea, which Anne found to be a marvelous coincidence—Matthew and Marilla had grown up on a farm there, though they'd moved to Charlottetown for new work when their crops became more of a drain on their limited resources than a means of survival.
Some of Diana's high school friends are also attending U of T, news that makes Anne's stomach churn nervously when she first hears it because, well—Diana already has connections here. She does not need Anne the way that Anne needs her.
Rationally, Anne knows that she will likely make other friends in classes and through clubs she plans to join. But Diana has become her first and only lifeline, and after 18 long years without a single friend to call her own, Anne cannot help but worry that she will lose her roommate's favor somehow. That she will make a misstep too great to overcome, or talk herself into an accidental but unforgivable insult, or simply annoy her new friend so much that the brunette would become sick of her.
There are so many ways for a new friendship to end, Anne knows. She has seen them all play out countless times before. She does not want to be forced to go through it again.
That is why, when Diana informs Anne of a frat party taking place just off-campus that night, Anne agrees without hesitation. Sure, she's never been to a party before, but Diana's high school friends will be there, which means there is a chance for Anne to meet them, and to win them over. She cannot pass up this opportunity to form new bonds so early—it is imperative that Anne makes the best first impression she possibly can, and hopefully before some other overly verbose redhead weasels her way into their good graces first.
That night, as they are getting ready to go out, Anne makes an admission that she knows Diana will not judge her for.
(She worries about it nonetheless.)
"Diana," she begins as the other girl helps style Anne's hair, "I've never actually been to a party before."
As expected, Diana takes this information in stride. She grins excitedly, squeezing Anne's shoulder with her free hand before she returns to her task of braiding Anne's hair so intricately that Anne believes the method should be studied by beauticians the world over.
"This will be an exciting night for you, then," Diana chirps. "Oh, Anne, it'll be such good fun. You have to watch out for creepy guys, of course, and don't even think about accepting an open drink from anyone, but really just think of it as a night out with the girls. We'll dance, we'll talk, and most importantly, we'll stick together. Does that sound alright with you?"
Anne's eagerness builds with every word that comes out of Diana's mouth. By the time she finishes her impassioned speech, Anne has to struggle to sit still in her seat, so thrilled is she with the prospect of having such a girl's night out.
"It sounds absolutely wondrous," she breathes.
Diana sends Anne a grin in the mirror that she reflects back earnestly. This is already shaping up to be one of the most exhilarating nights of her life.
*
The girls from Diana's hometown introduce themselves as follows:
Ruby Gillis, with a giddy, warm hug.
Tillie Boulter, with a grin that reaches her eyes.
Jane Andrews, with a wave and an intrigued raise of her eyebrows.
Josie Pye, with a judgemental once-over that nearly causes Anne to shrink in on herself.
Luckily, Diana brushes quickly past Josie’s less-than-stellar welcome by proclaiming that it is time to head across campus. As they set out, Ruby slows to walk beside Anne.
“So, Anne,” the small blonde begins, “do you have a boyfriend?” She pauses. “Or girlfriend? Or—partner?”
Anne catches sight of Josie rolling her eyes, though the other girls’ ears seem to perk up as they wait for Anne’s response. Even Diana seems curious—they didn’t get a chance to cover the matter of significant others because they were far too busy giggling over the most scandalous books on each other’s proverbial To Be Read list and learning more about their families.
(When Diana discovered that Anne was an orphan who’d been adopted out of the foster system, she simply squeezed Anne’s hand warmly and thanked the heavens that Anne had found a family who loved her. Anne had to turn her head to wipe away the sudden tears that fell down her cheeks, as Diana, ever gracious, pretended not to notice.)
“Um,” Anne begins, “no, not as such.”
Josie lets out a derisive snort. “What does that even mean? Are you with someone or not?”
“Not,” Anne says.
“Well, Ruby’s got a boyfriend,” Tillie laughs.
Anne would like to kiss the dark-haired girl for how she’s saved her from Josie’s scorn.
“Stop it, Tillie!” Ruby scolds, though she’s grinning as well. She looks at Anne. “He’s a year older than us, and he goes to school here, too. His name’s Gilbert Blythe, and he is the dreamiest boy in all of North America.”
“What, he couldn’t crack the other six continents?” Jane snorts, and Anne has to hide her smile behind a cough.
The other girl catches her gaze and grins. Thankfully, Ruby seems too caught up in reminiscing about her beau to notice their exchange.
“How did you two meet?” Anne asks out of genuine curiosity.
All the girls burst into crazed giggles, and Anne comes to the familiar realization that she’s missing out on an inside joke.
“He’s from Avonlea, too,” Diana supplies helpfully.
“Yup, we’re all one big happy family!” Tillie giggles.
This sets the girls off into another frenzied round of hysterics—even Josie laughs freely, a sight Anne did not think she would ever see.
Her spirits fall a bit as she forces out a fake smile, pretending as always to get the joke so that she might avoid becoming the butt of it. As if, by acting as though she is able to share in their joy, she might convince them that she has any right to. That she belongs.
"It's interesting that so many of you ended up so far from home," Anne says once the laughter dies down. She sends Ruby a teasing smile. "Don't tell me you came all this way for a boy."
Ruby laughs at that, thank goodness, and swats playfully at Anne's arm. "Of course I didn't." She pauses. "Well, not entirely."
Anne laughs with the other girls sincerely, now, grateful that she seems to have found her stride in the conversation.
"McGill was far too expensive, not to mention—ugh, I mean, Quebec."
Every last one of them grunts in agreement, a tacit say no more. Anne spent a short while in Quebec, until her case worker made a surprise home visit and found Anne and the three other foster children under the family's care half-starved and covered in filth, purposefully neglected by those who were meant to take care of them.
Somehow, Anne thinks that might not be such a great story to share. Not that she would want to, anyway.
"U of T was just my best option," Ruby concludes. "Gil's just an added bonus."
Anne smiles warmly at the girl beside her, moved by the love she obviously holds in her heart for her boyfriend. Anne can only hope that one day she might find someone to love in kind—what she would not give just to have a hand to hold, a shoulder to rest her weary head on, a person who could love and accept her for all that she is, freckles and crooked bottom teeth and motor mouth and all.
Before Anne knows it, they've made it to the frat house in question. It is quite obvious that a party is happening inside, as they've made no effort to pretend as though there isn't one—music blares through the windows, LED lights cycle through colors so quickly Anne's head spins, and students mill freely on the porch, spilling out of the open front door without a care in the world. The stench of alcohol permeates Anne's senses immediately, sharp in a way that wakes her even as it puts to sleep those who drink it.
Diana grabs hold of her hand and reminds the girls that they are to stick together in pairs or groups and to find their own unopened drinks, and then they are off and crossing the threshold, and Anne is officially at her first ever party.
*
Of course, she is immediately separated from her friends. A group of rowdy, drunk idiots crashes through the foyer, forcing Anne to release Diana's hand. Her group, who she was told to stick with no matter what, is suddenly lost from her, and Anne is left doing breathing exercises and reminding herself not to panic.
How big can the house be, after all?
Massive, as it turns out. Actually, massive might be an understatement. Anne seems to have found herself in a mansion so vast every turn she takes pulls her deeper into its bowels, like a Greek hero wandering the Labyrinth without Ariadne's string to guide her way.
This is, Anne decides, a fucking shitshow. So much for a girl's night out.
Somehow, she finds herself in a kitchen. Liquor bottles litter every flat surface in the room, though the music is much quieter here, the crowd thinner. Anne sighs at the sight of the alcohol before her, not very keen to partake now that she does not have a buddy to keep watch over her, and makes for the large refrigerator to try to find a soda. She'd take a juice, at this point—turns out anxiously half-running through an unfamiliar place can really get a girl parched.
It is as Anne is searching through the fridge that she finds the door suddenly slammed shut, her head only just making it out before a concussion could occur.
"What—?" she exclaims, jumping back.
"No rifling through the fridge," a stocky, blond boy informs her with a sneer.
Anne knits her eyebrows. "You could've said that rather than nearly taking my head off!" she argues.
"Maybe if you had some manners you wouldn't have had to worry about that. Where'd you come in from, the street?"
Anne rolls her eyes. "Yes, much like every other person here, I walked inside from the outside," she says in a condescending tone. She juts out her lower lip in a faux-pout. "I know that's a tough concept for you to wrap your small mind around, but I'm glad to explain it to you again with pictures if you like."
"Who the fuck do you think you are?"
Suddenly, Anne finds herself crowded in a corner where two countertops meet. Her heart races furiously in her chest.
"Get off of me," she demands, shoving the boy's shoulders.
He hardly budges, so solid is he. Anne thinks he must be made of stone, with a pebble brain to match.
"You're the one causing problems here, freak. Do I need to show you how to behave?" he says, his voice low and threatening.
Real fear courses through Anne's veins, but before she can bring her knee up to meet the boy's groin, he is being pulled back by a large hand.
"Problem here, Billy?" this new boy asks, his tone full of forced casualness.
Anne notes the way he steps between her and this Billy, his body physically shielding her from further harm. From her vantage point, she can only make out a broad set of shoulders, and a full head of curly, black hair that she has to look up at from where she stands.
"Yeah, why don't you take the garbage out?" Billy sneers.
Anne's vision tints red. How many times had she been looked down upon, compared to the dirtiest things anyone could imagine, by people who did not know her? She would punch the lights out of the big blond douchebag if the big brunette was not standing in her way.
"That's enough of that," the other boy cautions. "What ever happened to being gracious to guests?"
"She's no guest of mine."
"Good thing she's one of mine, then."
Anne peeks around the boy's bicep to watch Billy's face twist up angrily. He glares at her, and she sends him a smug grin, a subtle and deliciously satisfying fuck you that even he could read.
"Go find your sister, Billy," the taller boy sighs. "Last I saw, she was doing Jell-o shots off of Moody's stomach."
The look of disgust on Billy's face overcomes that of the loathing, and he finally stalks off, leaving the tension in Anne's shoulders to seep out slowly.
The other boy—the kind one, the one who saved her ass—turns around to face her, and her breath catches in her throat.
Hazel eyes meet hers, kaleidoscopes of color that stare deeply into Anne's own. His lips are full, his brows are thick, and his chin is charming in a way that Anne never knew chins could be.
All in all, he's the hottest man she's ever seen. And he is looking at her with such genuine concern that she has to grip the counter behind her with both hands to steady herself.
God, she wants to lick him. He's far too handsome for his own good.
"Are you alright?" he asks, and Anne realizes too late that she has been staring.
She shakes her head. "No. I mean—yes. Yeah." She clears her throat. "Thanks."
He offers her a warm smile. "Billy's the world's biggest asshole—it's alright to be shaken. What he did was really fucked up."
Anne swallows hard. "I was gearing up to kick him in the balls before you stepped in," she admits.
The boy throws his head back and laughs brightly, giving Anne an uninhibited view of his Adam's apple as it bobs along his throat.
Did she mention that she wants to lick him?
"He'd have deserved it, that's for sure," the boy says.
"Next time give me a minute before you come rushing in like some knight in shining armor, alright?" she quips.
His grin turns crooked, devilish. "What kind of knight lets the princess slay the dragons, hm?"
"Who said I was the princess? Maybe I'd like to be a knight, too."
"You'd probably give all the other knights a run for their money," he admits.
Anne grins. "I think I'd make a rather marvelous Lancelot, all things considered."
The boy whistles, placing his hands in his jean pockets. "Are you kidding? You'd run circles around that guy."
She rolls her eyes. "You haven't even seen me in action. There's no possible way you could come to such a determination without feasible evidence, which leads me to believe you're engaging in nothing more than shallow flattery, which I detest most greatly."
He stares at her for a moment, opening and closing his mouth, and Anne realizes that she has crossed the threshold from good conversationalist to fucking weirdo so quickly she didn't even recognize it in herself.
Suddenly, he bows his head, taking a step back from her to bend forward at the hip. "My apologies, good sir. Clearly, you're entirely incapable." He looks up at her through his eyelashes just to shoot her a devious grin.
Her heart takes flight and soars. Her stomach does a set of jumping jacks, then a few backflips for good measure. Her brain goes kaput, unable to comprehend how it is that she's managed to find a kindred spirit in a house full of drunk assholes.
"Petty insults are just as loathsome," she informs him when her mind comes back online. "Try again, fool."
"Fool?" he laughs, straightening. "I've been demoted from knight to fool?"
"How the mighty fall," she sighs in false disappointment.
"And here I thought I had a shot with a fellow dragon slayer."
Anne recognizes the shift in his tone, the softening of his smile. She's seen it happen enough to other people to be able to pick it out herself.
This boy is flirting with her. And she thinks she might just want to flirt back.
"It's never too late to atone for misdeeds," Anne says, eyeing him carefully.
That grin comes back in all its crooked glory. "Oh yeah? And how does one go about doing that?"
"You can find me a drink that won't blind me with one sip, to start."
The brunette watches her with a smile too gentle for their surroundings. "I can do that. Easy."
He finds her a clean cup and pours her a Coke, letting her watch as he does so that she knows it’s safe. It’s dangerous, of course, but she would not have questioned him, anyway—Anne has a feeling her fellow knight is the farthest thing from the kind of guy she would need to be wary of in that way anyhow.
He hands her the cup with a flourish and another bow, grinning up at her again, and her heart starts racing for the second time tonight, although this time the sensation is entirely welcome.
Maybe, she thinks, this could be the start of something magical.
Charming chin and all.