Ib stared in disbelief at her friend, slumped against the wall of this impossible crayon madhouse. His lavender hair was draped across the left side of his face, which was adorned with a peaceful expression; greatly contradicting his surroundings. He seemed perfectly content just laying there, his tattered coat like a blanket draped about his shoulders, and the striking blue rose petals scattered across the floor gave the scene a distinctly fairytale-like feeling.

'He's just sleeping. Surely he's just sleeping!' And it really did seem like that could be the case…But no matter how she tried to convince herself, Ib couldn't stop the tears welling in the corners of her crimson eyes at the thought of the truth. It was hard to believe that she could care for this man so strongly after knowing him for such a short time, but after what they'd been through… It was far too painful to think that she was losing him now. 'Garry...'

Ib knew that, realistically, she should be rushing to find a way out of this twisted gallery as quickly as possible. However, she couldn't find it within herself to leave her friend just yet. So, she sat down on the floor beside him, one hand resting on the edge of that familiar torn jacket, and one lightly brushing one of the fallen petals; a bittersweet feeling swelling in her chest upon seeing the cerulean remains of Garry's rose. She wasn't entirely sure how long she sat there, but as she left, a single word echoed in the back of her mind- Melancholy.


Ib gazed curiously at the pale, rather grotesque statue of a large head that stood before her. The facial features were vague, and nothing more than sizeable hollows in its visage, making the sculpture strongly resemble the skull sitting atop the far more colorful- and hopefully fake- skeleton propped up just to the right. However, despite this lifeless appearance, the statue still managed to give off a sorrowful expression. It was, to say the least, unnerving… a feeling Ib was growing accustomed to.

She peered closer at the small plaque mounted to the base of the sculpture- "Melancholy," it said. She didn't know this word.

"Melancholy, huh. Well really, who wouldn't be in this place?" Garry said, letting out a short, humourless laugh. Ib looked up at the young man and gave a small hum of agreement, and they moved on to the next display…


For years after escaping the gallery, Ib felt a pang of sadness when reminded of her lost friend. For the first few months, her dreams were often filled with lemon candy, blue roses, and red statues that were always blocking the path in front of her or in pursuit of her; never far behind. Worst of all, though, were those words that were always ringing in her ears, always deepening the sorrow in her heart.

"I don't want to lie to you… But I… don't want to tell the truth either…"

"...If you need help… I'll come running….."

He never did come running. After all they had seen in that gallery, after all he had done to help her and protect her, after him simply being there with her through everything, it didn't matter to Ib whether she needed help or not- what she needed was for Garry to have been there to jump through that painting and back into this world with her. But he hadn't been there, and so that deep sorrow for her friend lingered.

'So this is what it means… Melancholy.'

A/N

Please take into consideration that this story is not based on any of the endings in Ib, because there are no endings in which Garry dies and Ib goes back to the real world and remembers him. I like to think that this would have happened in the "Forgotten Portrait" ending, though. Either way, I hope this was okay! I know that this isn't the best writing, by far- but the idea just came to me and wouldn't leave me alone. Please leave a review with your thoughts, it really means a lot!

Kokorokara, Ai2000