C'mon people we need more Ib fanfics! Also, this story contains headcanons galore~
Garry flicked his smoked cigarette to the ground, stomping it out with his heel as he faintly heard the final school bell ring. He waited patiently as the students began flooding out the entrance gates, talking of how they were going to just waste their days away, as opposed to studying for tests or working on school projects. He exhaled the plume of smoke he had been holding back, and settled his hands into his pockets. It was just like every other day.
Ever since their reunion after the art gallery, Garry made it a point to see Ib everyday. After school he would walk her home or to his house to help her study. If it were a weekend, the two of them would go to the cafe and have some macaroons and some drinks—juice for her, coffee for him. Then after that, they'd stop at Garry's apartment just to hang out and talk about random things. There was quite an age gap between the two, but Ib was Garry's best friend.
The aforementioned girl rounded the corner to the entrance, walking to Garry's side. Ib cast him a small smile, but for some reason, it almost looked a little forced. He shrugged it off, standing upright—instead of leaning against the brick wall—and gave her a warm smile.
"Good afternoon, Ib," Garry said in his naturally smooth voice. "How was school?"
"Oh, you know," she replied. Garry didn't, really, but always nodded his head in understanding.
The two of them began their trek home, all the while, Garry noticed that Ib seemed to have a storm cloud perpetually over her head. Occasionally, they'd make remarks about their day—funny occurrences or the like—and just casual chat, but every time Garry spoke, Ib either said nothing or just responded with small, incoherent noises.
Just like always, the crosswalk appeared into view. It was the path they took to Garry's apartment, and each time, Ib would take hold of his hand as they crossed the road, and she didn't let go until Garry needed said hand to reach in his pocket for the keys to his door. If they ignored the crosswalk, that meant they were heading to Ib's house. Today was one of those days, as Ib had mentioned that she needed to be home. She didn't go into a lot of detail, but she said someone special was visiting her home that day and she wanted to be there to see them.
Garry had assumed it to be a family member, and he didn't mean to, but Garry felt the tiniest bit of jealousy fill his heart.
Garry kept his hands in his pockets as he strolled down the sidewalk with Ib, but was startled out of his musing when Ib grasped his wrist with both of her small hands. She pulled his hand out of his pocket and her tiny fingers wrapped around his. Ib jerked him to a stop and Garry blinked at her, confused.
"Ib, I thought you needed to be home?" Garry reminded. "Wasn't someone visiting you?"
Ib's eyes narrowed, as if she tasted something bitter. Her eyes didn't meet his as she continued tugging at his arm.
"They.. they couldn't make it," Ib explained, still pulling his arm, threatening to dislocate it. "Can I go with you? Please?"
"You know you're always welcome," Garry said giving her a light smile, encouraging her to smile back. Ib seemed upset about something more, but if she wanted to talk about it, she would. Garry's own fingers wrapped around hers and they carefully looked both ways before quickly walking across the street. The walk wasn't much longer now, but all the while, Ib kept her crimson colored eyes locked to the concrete as if she were observing the cracks. The way she was acting was really concerning for Garry. The only time he'd seen her this way is when she saw the painting of her parents in the Fabricated World. All of that running around from dolls, statues, painting ladies, and the one thing that bothered her was seeing her parent's portrait. Ib was a tough kid, so whatever was nagging at her must have been really upsetting.
Once they were in front of Garry's apartment entrance, Ib let go of his hand as he searched through his pockets to obtain his keys. He also pulled out his lighter and a pack of cigarettes. The smoker's tools went into his left hand while the key in his right hand unlocked the door and turned the knob. The door swung open, and Garry gestured his guest inside—ladies first, he thought—and she trotted inside, kicking off her shoes at the entrance and making her way to sit on his light blue couch.
Garry slipped off his coat to put on the rack just beside his door, keeping his cigarettes and zippo tightly in hand. His thumb flipped open the lid of his pack of cigarettes and took the second-to-last cancer stick between his lips. Garry pulled out the last one and tucked it behind his ear for later, tossing the empty cardboard pack away and flicking the lid to his zippo open.
"Hello, Papa?" Ib's voice chirped. She had reached over the arm of the couch to reach the phone on the table beside it. "Since... since Uncle Aurick isn't coming over today, I'm gonna stay at Garry's for a bit." Garry's thumb on the wheel of his lighter faltered slightly as the words left Ib's lips. Yeah, he met Ib's parents, and he thought they were incredibly swell people. Ib's mother, Naeva, was incredibly kind and caring. She also took a particular liking to Garry, since the two of them had described their friendship beginning because Garry had taught Ib new words in the art gallery—which was true, but they not dare go in depth. Ib's father, Admon, was nice enough, and seemed really protective of his daughter, which is understandable. What father wouldn't be? So when a considerably older man wants to invite your nine-year-old for macaroons, it definitely raises an eyebrow. Ib's mother didn't seem to mind, but her father was very against the idea of his daughter very casually hanging out with someone over twice her age.
"P-Papa!" Ib's tiny voice growing and turning slightly acidic. "Garry would never—! L-look, I'll be home in a few hours, okay? Love you." She put the phone back on the hook, sitting back down on the couch.
Garry finally lit his cigarette and used his other hand to cover the light blush creeping to his cheeks. He took a long drag from it, mentally chuckling at how delusional Ib's father could get. But Admon had every right to be concerned. Ib was a very extraordinary girl, and the more Garry spent time with her, the more beautiful she became. Garry scolded himself for thinking that way, since she was only nine-years-old, but maybe when she was older...
"Garry," the tiny girl on his couch called out to him. "Why do you smoke?"
The question made him put his cigarette between his fingers and pull it from his lips. Garry exhaled the smoke, not knowing how to answer her question, or where it had even come from. Ib had seen Garry smoke quite frequently. He wasn't a very heavy smoker—he tried to limit himself to at least five a day. Plus, he was trying to quit. That's why he carried so much lemon candy.
"Well, ah, it helps relieve stress, for one," he explained, taking a seat next to Ib. His hand held the cigarette away from her, since he knew it bothered her. "And if I don't get a dose of nicotine every now and again, I start to feel irritable. And my head will start to tingle, stuff like that." Garry set his gaze on her. Ib simply eyed him curiously, but there was that hint of unsettling lingering in her maroon irises. "Does that answer your question?" he asked.
"It's bad for you," Ib said matter-of-factly, disregarding his question. She pulled her legs up and hugged them to her chest, resting her chin on her knees.
"Indeed it is," Garry muttered, taking a quick drag from his cancer stick. "Don't ever start. It's a hard habit to break."
"Why did you start?" she questioned him again. It made him think for a long time. Just why did he pick up the habit in the first place? Garry found he couldn't quite remember, his memory was clouded. He attributed to stress, probably. He started smoking in his teen years, so it was probably some high school drama or something inferior that teens these days worry about.
"I'm afraid I can't remember," he explained to the child, blowing out a cloud of smoke. Garry waved his hand to better disperse the offending fumes. He stole another glance her way and saw that unexplanable sadness that still lingered in the depths of her eyes. "Ib, is everything okay?"
Garry had turned his body to better face her, still keeping his half-smoked cigarette held away from her. He inclined his head to make eye contact since Ib let her head fall slightly, causing her bangs to cover more than just her forehead.
He called her name a second time, which made her look up at him. Garry had never seen the girl so upset. Ib was good at hiding her feelings, but that look in her eye and the fact that she was asking such random, concerned questions was a strong hint that there was something wrong.
Suddenly her hand shot out, and Ib's tiny fingers quickly plucked the untouched cigarette from behind his ear. Garry backed away, a little too late, as Ib had the stick of cancer in her hands. Without a word, she crushed it into pieces, dropping the pile of paper and tobacco in the ashtray on the table in front of them. Garry simple gaped at her.
"I-Ib!" Garry said, accidentally shouting a little bit. "That was my last..! Why did you do that?"
Ib didn't answer. Her head hung low, and her body seemed to visibly quake. Garry felt like a mess, as he never raised his voice at her, and wished he could take it back. Before he can utter an apology, he watched Ib's body jolt, and heard her fight back a sob. Garry tried to get a look at her face, but she quickly jumped off the couch, darting to his bedroom.
Garry watched as she slipped through the doorway to his room, and realized her destination was actually the bathroom. His eyes fell down to where Ib used to sit, and saw three small darkened spots on the couch. His hand brushed over them, and they were wet. Ib had been crying.
Surely she wouldn't cry because Garry got a little angry with her, would she? Even though Ib was only nine, she was very mature for her age. She wouldn't cry over a little reprimanding. Garry knew that for a fact. Taking a final drag of his cigarette and snuffing the rest out in the ashtray, he reached over the arm of the couch and picked up the phone. It took him a moment to remember, then he dialed Ib's home number.
"Hello?" After three rings, came the dainty voice of Ib's mother. Garry mentally wiped his brow in relief that her father didn't answer.
"Hello, Naeva, it's Garry," he greeted. No matter how many times, Garry felt that he didn't know Ib's mother enough to simply call her by her name. But, the kind woman insisted that he did.
"Oh, Garry! How are you?" she said in her usual, cheerful tone. Garry could almost see the smile on her face.
"I'm great, but I wanted to ask you something," he started, glancing over to the shut—possibly locked—door beyond his bedroom. "Is.. everything alright with Ib? She's over here, and she's acting a bit...upset."
"Ah, yes," Ib's mother said in a quiet voice. "Well, my brother—Ib's uncle—Aurick was supposed to visit today, but yesterday.. he passed away."
Garry suddenly felt incredibly uneasy, like he shouldn't be intruding on such matters. But he had already dug into the ground this far.
"I.. I'm sorry." Garry's voice trembled, and he cleared his throat before he continued. "How did.. um, if you don't mind me asking.. how did he die?"
"Heart attack," Naeva explained, her voice considerably less cheerful. "He also had some breathing problems. It was attributed to his smoking habit."
His heart dropped. Garry suddenly realized why Ib was so curious about his smoking. She had already lost someone she cared about as a result of smoking. She was only concerned. Concerned about him. The receiver trembled in his hand, trying to compose a response.
"That's awful. My condolences to you," was all he could manage. "That explains Ib's behavior, though. I've never seen her like this."
"She is usually a happy child, isn't she?" Ib's mother declared. "I'm sure, if anything, you can get her to smile, Garry. You're pretty much all Ib talks about." Garry could hear the smile spreading across her face.
Garry thought for a moment. He recalled that not once have Ib's parents seen him smoke, so they probably didn't know. But if Ib talked about him all the time—did she really? Garry blushed at the thought—then maybe they did know.
"I'll have her home within a few hours, and I'll make sure she's smiling," he promised.
"You're so sweet. Thank you, Garry." With that, she hung up the phone, Garry doing the same.
He started for his bedroom, carefully making his way to his nightstand, reaching into the bag of candy and popping a piece of his lemon candy in his mouth. He grabbed another piece to give to Ib.. when she was ready to come out of the bathroom. Garry stood before the door and carefully knocked on it a few times, calling her name.
Garry pressed his ear against the door, and could faintly hear her sobbing. He carefully put his hand on the knob and twisted it gently. It was locked, of course. Garry let out a sigh, his heart breaking with each choking sob Ib let out. His knuckle tapped the door again.
"Ib, please," Garry said gently. His mind went over the things he could have said right there to get her to come out. He sighed deeply, getting down on his knees, continuously tapping the door. "Would you come out of there?"
Ib still didn't give a response. Garry sighed, heavily, then suddenly had a thought. His hand reached in his pocket to obtain his zippo. He loudly flipped the lid and spun the wheel several times, even though the flame appeared on the first try—it figures, when he isn't smoking, it lights on the first try.
His plan worked, as Garry could faintly hear Ib's sock-covered feet rapidly hitting the tile floors. He figured if Ib heard the lighter, she might think he was lighting up a cigarette and try to stop him. The lock was undid, and the door swung open. Ib was red in the face, her eyes were completely bloodshot from her crying. Garry gave her a nervous look, flicking the lid to his lighter shut. His eyes locked with hers for a very long time. Ib chewed on her bottom lip, trying to hold back any more tears from surfacing. She didn't like crying in front of Garry.
The silence weighed down on Garry's ears, so he decided to break it. "Your mother told me what happened," he explained. Ib couldn't help herself, and the tears started pouring down her face in thick trails. Garry held his arms out, and Ib rushed to him, nearly tackling him to the ground. Garry wrapped his arms around her, patting her head as she cried into his chest. "Ib, I'm sorry," he whispered.
"U-Uncle Aurick is.. gone because he smoked." Ib was full on sobbing now, the words choking and sputtering from her throat. "Garry, are.. are you gonna go away, too?"
"I'm not going anywhere," he assured her, hugging her tighter to his chest. "I swear it."
"But..but you smoke, too," Ib whimpered, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. "I don't want you to go away, Garry!"
"I'm not going to leave you, Ib." Garry pulled away from her to look her in the eyes. "I'll quit."
"But...but you said..." She choked on another sob, tears still rolling down her face. Garry put his hand on her cheek and brushed them away with his thumb. She leaned into his touch. "You said it was.. hard to quit."
Garry gave her the warmest smile he could muster, since seeing her upset made him upset. "I did say that, didn't I? Yeah, it'll be difficult, but I think I can do it." He grinned at Ib, ruffling her hair slightly. "You think I can, Ib? Because I'll need your help."
Ib nodded furiously, "I'll do whatever it takes." Her expression turned serious, like she had just been assigned an important mission. She was so cute.
"Good. Now, the first thing you need to do is..." he drawled out the last word, and put a finger to his lips like he was deep in thought. "Just, smile real big for me, okay?"
Ib looked at him, confusion clear in her eyes. "Huh?" Garry laughed.
"See, when you're upset, I'm upset. And when I'm upset, I smoke. So, if you're happy, I'm happy. And if I'm happy, I don't want to smoke. Get it?" During his explanation, Garry took one of her hands in both of his, and placed the candy in her palm. His slender fingers wrapped her own around the wrapped treat.
Ib looked down in her hand at the piece of lemon candy. She slowly unwrapped it and popped the lemon flavored treat into her mouth. The moment it hit her tongue, she smiled one of the biggest grins Garry had ever seen on her. Garry smiled, and Ib ran up to hug him.
"Just like that," Garry whispered. "Don't let anything ruin that pretty smile of yours, okay?"
"I won't," Ib mumbled into his shoulder.
Already, Garry felt any lingering craving for nicotine vanish.
I chose Ib's mother's name because it means "evening"..since Ib is actually supposed to be translated to "Eve"... And Ib's father's name is means red peony. Ib's uncle is just a name I heard on TV once and liked. Anyway, I hope you liked my little oneshot!