■ Helpless ■ Gilbert Blythe ■

A cold heart in a freezing storm

■■■

Victoria knew that the day was to arrive sooner or later. The entirety of the town knew it as well despite none being happy about it.

Gilbert's dad had just died which was the reason why Victoria was dressed in all black as she held Edward's hand on her own. His hand was cold in hers and Victoria tried to help him warm up a bit.

Everyone was present for the funeral on that black, gloomy day as the weather contrasted well with the sombre mood. An ironic example of pathetic fallacy.

The Edwards followed the others as they tracked after the carriage holding John Blythe's body from the chapel to the cemetery.

Victoria desperately wanted to find a way to talk to Gilbert, except she didn't know what to say. It is considered as a norm for people to say that they're sorry for their loss to the person who lost a loved one.

Except for the phrase hardly ever gives off any comfort. It's supposed to show empathy and pity but instead, it's more of an instinct, something you happen to say out of habit. Maybe that's the reason why the phrase lost its emotional meaning.

Shakespeare is great and all, Victoria thought. Though it seems that not even one of the greatest writers could give Victoria the words that she so desperately wanted.

John Blythe was being descended into the ground for his burial. She wondered what Gilbert must be going through, the feeling of watching your father being lowered into the dirt.

The melancholic feeling stuck in the air as prayers were being said by the reverend. It didn't take long for Gilbert to not pay attention to his words, he couldn't focus. He instead looked around the people who came to the funeral, some which have never even spoken to him before. He let out a breath when he saw Victoria standing behind her parents with Edward cuddled into her side. The boy was desperately latching onto his sister's black dress.

People quickly parted after the ceremony was finished. Some went to their own homes while others went to Gilbert's for the wake. Victoria noticed that Gilbert was in no way hurry to join the others inside. "Come on Victoria, let's go in," Benedict whispered to his daughter who was watching Gilbert from the corner of her eyes.

"Would you mind if I stay here and talk to Gilbert? I want to see how he's doing." Victoria explained.

Benedict nodded and smiled gently at her. "Of course. Just be careful on what you say. He's in a fragile state. And don't stay out too long, its brass monkeys out here. Let go of Victoria, Edward. She'll join us shortly." Edward finally let go off Victoria's waist and Benedict didn't hesitate in lifting him up.

The young boy latched his arms around his father's neck as Edward buried his face into the older man's chest.

Victoria waited some time as she wanted to make sure that the pair would truly be alone. She silently at next to him on the house's steps. "Sorry-" Victoria started to mumble before Gilbert cut her off.

"Don't say you're sorry. I've been hearing it all day and frankly, I'm sick of it." Gilbert stated finally looking at her. Victoria gaped for a moment or two. "I was actually going to apologize because I accidentally sat on the end of your coat," Victoria explained.

Gilbert looked down and quickly noticed that she was indeed sitting on the very end of his coat. "Oh, sorry." Victoria nodded and then moved slightly further from him so that she no longer was sitting on his coat. "It's okay. How are you feeling?" She questioned.