Ib: The Reunion.

To say that she walked away from that scrape, that terrifying day with nothing more than a rose would be lying in the most obvious way possible. Ever since the day, eight years ago, when she'd been sucked into a world that had taken all evidence of logic and destroyed it, she'd been plagued by nightmares. In a desperate bid to keep her sanity, she had tried to destroy all souvenirs of that day- the rose, her clothes, and even the handkerchief that Garry had returned to her. Without these reminders, she had gained some peace, but she was never truly normal. Girls named Mary gave her a start, she didn't like mannequins in stores, and she never went to another art gallery. That was until she got the letter from Garry.
    It had arrived in the mail suddenly just a few days before as Ib had been trudging home after an exhausting day at school again. it seemed to have become her entire life: waking up at the crack of dawn, taking monotonous classes, and walking home to rest for the next morning. But as she held the letter in her shaking hands, a smile formed upon her cute face that had changed so much from the time she was a child. It was a neatly folded envelope with a cornflower blue seal Ib's eyes were drawn to instantly, a rose had been etched into its ink perfectly by hand. There had been no doubt, even before her eyes had read over the hand-written, cursive label, it had been sent by Garry.
   Garry, who had saved her. Garry, who hadn't spoken to her in years. Garry, who she dreamed about. She dreamed about the day that he'd save her again, but this time from life, not from insanity. See, when one has a taste of something different, of something heart-racing and exciting- even if it's also life-threatening- they can't survive with just the daily grind. So the letter, the summon to come and see Garry at the place where this addiction started, was too good to pass up. How could she, when she'd also been dreaming about what would happen after Garry had rescued her?
    Ib walked carefully about the art gallery with her new, black boots clicking against the tiled floors obnoxiously behind her, and they had already begun rubbing at her ankles, leaving a blister that she was forced to ignore as she ventured on. She took a quick glance at the lower hall, brown eyes darting from wall to wall before tearing away, and looking straight ahead once more. No, Ib was not lost, nor wondering where her former companion was, but, perhaps, she was stalling. Ib was just nervous to see him again, of course! How would he look? How old was he anyway? And just what would he think of Ib's new look? She, personally, thought that the long, brown hair kept up in a maroon ribbon made her look cute-no matter how old she was. And who didn't love wearing a frilly dress once in a while-frilly may have been an off-putting word for a dress as red as mahogany wood, and the white layers beneath it were made of both black and white lace tatters. If the atttered look worked for him-maybe it could work for her.
     She knew where she'd find Garry, since it was the same place she'd found him eight years prior. Did he continue to grow to be a lanky adult? Was his hair still that violet colour? How long would it take for them to realize that so many years had passed between them? These were the questions she was stuck on, but the worst was one she was trying to avoid. With these dreams had come daydreams of her and Garry falling in love. What would she do if he was married and happy?
    Suddenly, Ib was brought to a sudden stop. Her feet froze as she fixed her gaze upon a tall, slim figure that stood just ahead before a looming rose sculpture. It may have been the only thing Ib could say was taller than him. She even giggled to herself. She was only being silly-Garry was tall, yes, but he was no freak! Ib stepped closer, words ready explode from her lips as she worked her way over to his back, where she realized that she had certainly grown. Once, there was a time when Ib had barely reached Garry's waist, and looking back on that made the girl smile. Hard to believe she could actually reach his shoulder, which she gave an ever-so-delicate tap.
    "Garry?"
    When Gary heard the female voice speak from behind him, he turned, which revealed a sight that made him blink twice. It was Ib, the small little girl who had depended on him in the same gallery that they stood in now. She was taller, and her features had fully developed. She had curves now, and she came up to his neck. Her red eyes were heavily lashed and painted with make-up. Her face was still almost heart-shaped, and her brown hair was still so long. When she bit her lip, he could only smile. She looked so adorable, but it was different from the cute girl he had conjured up when he was writing the letter. She was almost an adult, and she was beautiful.
    "My, my, Ib-you really have grown up!" Garry exclaimed, stunned by the adult he now saw before his shimmering, blue eyes. It felt odd not having to kneel to be at eye-level with her. "Still, you have those innocent, brown eyes."
    Ib was silent. Garry was not the only one stunned by what he saw; Ib was at a loss for words. There were none sticking out in her brain that she could dare say aloud, and shy, childish Ib once again came back to taunt the grown girl's mind. She vaguely remembered them standing together in before a mirror in the gallery that night-yes, and she had been so small. But she had seen everything of Garry that stared her in the face; he had the same face as that night, the same height, same luscious eyes, though one was covered by the wispy bangs of his lavender hair, and the same caring heart he had always shown to Ib. Was she imagining such a thing, or had Garry not aged a day?
    "Garry, you're still the same," she murmured, realizing too late that it was a bit rude. However, he didn't even blink. He just took her hands in his and traced over the lines of her palms. Then, he reached up and just kept touching her face. "Why are you still so young? Didn't you get older?" His eyes just stared into hers, clear and sweet and understanding. In his eyes, she saw a war- the war on what he should divulge and what he should keep from her. "Don't skimp the details, okay? Don't do that to me." He just sighed and pulled her close.
    He chuckled quietly, a hand moving to his side, where he revealed a fragile, blue rose that still contained every single petal. It sat up perfectly on its strong stem, and its thorns were removed so that he could clasp it in his palm carefully as to not disturb its strange beauty. But it couldn't be-
    "I learned something when we were together then, Ib. You see, age isn't a factor, when the rose never wilts." he explained, smiling brightly. "There's no need to hurry through things when life is just a set of imaginary numbers-just protect it. And that's just what I did...and as long as my rose ever wilted, nor would I."
    Ib stared at the rose in disbelief, her heart racing. Those measures she'd taken years ago had prevented her from immortality? Garry was still only about eighteen? She could have screamed over the irony of the situation, but the frustration only came out from the tears that welled up in her eyes. Garry's smile disappeared, and he tucked the rose back in a pocket in his jacket. As if on instinct, he wrapped his arms around her and placed his cheek on her scalp, his embrace strangely amorous. Not that she minded, she thought as she laid her head on his shoulder. What would she do now that he was immortal and she was not?
    "Garry.." Ib said, unable to react to such a situation. All she had wanted after the gallery was to see him again, and be with him, but she had never expected that! Ib wasn't quite sure if it was something from her deepest desires she was witnessing, or something horrid that would never be undone.  "All I ever wanted for so long was for us to be...how could we ever be.."
    "What?" He asked, a smile suddenly returning to his handsome face. "You too, huh? Don't go blushing now-you know, I always wanted to be with you too, Ib. That's why I waited for you to catch up-a few years of being like this wasn't so bad! And..it's not like what you think." Ib became confused as her eyes narrowed, and her mouth opened to speak. But Garry revealed the rose once more, snapping the stem as if it were meaningless!      
    Garry smiled when she exclaimed. "Ib," he said as he couldn't help but laugh, "you realize the only point of the rose was to be your age. I didn't do it to live forever. Everyone has to die someday, and I want to die with you." He dropped the flower on the floor and smashed it with his boot. "Do you understand now? I've been thinking over the years, and I want to stay with you, Ib. I can't just ignore the one person in this world who makes me feel complete. Life is so boring. Get up, go to work, pay bills. It's just so-" He allowed the growl to rumble from his throat, and she looked at him in surprise.
    "Well, you know." He sighed, and let his eyes close momentarily as he gave a shake of his head. He still had those dark lavender curls on top of the original lavender that Ib remembered, and he ran a hand through them softly. "Oh, hey, I have something I want to show you!" He took Ib's hand within his own as he darted quickly over to the reception area-Ib felt the need to glance back a few times in worry that something would be chasing them. After all, seeing headless artwork had ceased to be amusing. "It's upstairs, come on!"
    "I'm coming, Garry!" Ib said, giggling as she followed as fast as her legs could keep up. Growing up had yet to make her legs as long as Garry's, and after eight years had already passed, she wondered if they ever would.
    They passed her parents and countless others and laughed as they stared at the young couple that disturbed the unsettling peace of the gallery of horror. Garry pulled her down one last hallway to stop in front of a large oil canvas. Before she could really concentrate on the painting, he cupped his large hands over her eyes and prevented her from seeing it. She smiled and giggled like she was nine years old again, a kid under Garry's protection and care. He fit to her back and smiled against her cheek.
"This will shock you, but I always think it's great to just see and reminisce about old times. My favorite part is the centre." With that, he uncovered her eyes.
    And she gasped, her brown eyes gleaming with happiness as she took a step back to view the entire canvas in awe. She could go no farther, feeling Garry's chest hit her back, and he placed an arm around her as he too looked up at the master-piece. It was truly beautiful-its border decorated with lush, red roses that intertwined with larger blue ones, and from the roses, Ib's eyes worked into the center, where there were mannequins, disturbing dolls all lined up and smiling eerily, a tipped, glass vase that spilled out water from the top center onto two familiar heads that sat close together. The two sat side by side, hand in hand, and the tall male seemed to loom over the young girl as a protective shadow.
    "Is this-"
    Garry smiled, chuckling. "It's you and I, Ib! That's you holding your rose, and obviously that's me."
    The oil painting of them was lovely! Ib was awe-struck with joy as she took in all of its glory in one sight, and heaved a sigh of happiness. Despite the usage of all her terrors, they ceased to bother her all at once as she found something new to fill the void they had took over.
    "Do you like it?"
    "Of course." She felt like touching the canvas; it was so beautiful. The way that the light hit Garry's eyes in the gallery imitated the way he looked in the painting, and she looked so much younger. If she needed anymore evidence of how much she'd grown and how little he hadn't, she had only to look at the way she was dwarfed by him in the picture. His free arm was draped across her shoulder, his lemon candy sitting in her lap. There seemed to be a happy but protective gleam in Garry's eyes, but Ib could see the overflowing happiness in her own. They were always meant to be together, just like in this painting, the centre of devastation and fear, happy and protective. She was always meant to have Garry.
"Do you think we'll be fine, Garry?" she had to ask. "In our lives, even if we aren't running from something, I mean?"
"Ib, I think we'll be just fine." With that, he swooped his head, and she felt his lips on hers, soft as a rose petal.