[Disclaimer; I don't own Ib!]

Flipping through the pages of a book, Garry sighed, slipping a lemon candy into his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ib stir in her sleep, thrashing around in his coat. Going back to his book, he had paused on a page dedicated to every rose color. Lightly rubbing a petal of his own rose between his fingers, he hesitated.

'Impossible miracle'... Was his own rose mocking him?

Skimming throug, his eyes caught the meaning of the red rose- 'true love'- until he reached one certain color.

Violet?

What did it mean? Eyes darting over the explanation, his breath snagged in his throat-

'Love at first sight'?!

Garry didn't understand why everyone was fussing over the young girl. Fixing her pressed dress, adjusting her hair-bow,tucking a wayward curl back into her headband; he wasn't jealous, no, not by any means, but by the bags under her eyes that not even make-up could cover, he could well see she was getting tired of the constant obbsessing.

As far as he could tell, she looked beautiful.

Sitting upon the flowered couch, her gaze was downcast to her black mourning dress, slim fingers tracing the white lace of the hem. Beside the open cascet, her mother elegantly stood aside a group of fellow workers of the localhospital, red hair pinned back in a glamorous, sleek ponytail set to the side. She wore a dress the same mourning color as her daughter, flowing sleeves covering her slim, pale arms.

Only if you looked, and knew exactly what you were looking for, could see a spider-web of scars upon her forearm, gained a year and a half ago, during the episode of throwing wine bottles around after the discovery of her husband's mistress.

"[Name]? Hey, how are you?" Garry asked, forgetting of his father's teachings on how to address those of a higher wealth, once he was out of earshot, envoloping himself in [Name]'s mother's conversation.

She glanced up from her dress in surprise, and gasped, a bright smile cracking her porcelin face.

"Garry! You made it. Yes, I'm fine! Thank you so much for asking." she clapsed her hands together infront of her, watching the six-year-old boy climb up beside her on the couch.

Garry smiled, glancing over at her. "And Miss Rebecca? How about her, is she alright?"

[Name] hesitated, five-year-old mind hard at work. Garry was surprised, in all honesty, she was allowed in such a grieving place at her tender age.

"Mother? Oh... You know her, she's so strong. She braced herself through grandfather's passing, I know she'll hold herself together through father's." she said, glancing up at her mother as she spoke, watching as she smiled at a fellow nurse.

Garry hesitated, then nodded, "Yes... I suppose you're right. Hey... Let's go downstairs, alright? Get something to eat." he suggested, sliding off the couch already.

[Name] hesitated, following Garry off the couch. "Well... Alright."

Making their way to the stairs, both froze at the voice that followed them.

"[Name]! Dear, where are you going?"

[Name] hesitated, glancing back, "Umm- Don't worry, Mama! Garry and I are going to go get something to eat downstairs."

Her mother hesitated, before nodding, "Well- Alright! Bring me back a glass of water, dear? And you, young man!" her sharp tone drew Garry's attention. "You better keep her safe! Help her up and down the stairs, you hear? It's been a long couple of days for her."

Garry hesitated and nodded, "Yes, Miss Rebecca. I understand." he said, bowing his head slightly, before following after [Name], who had left after notifying her mother.

That's why she was so pale. She was even more sickly during these days.

[Name] held the water bottle against her stomach, pointing up at the wall. "See those paintings, Garry? They're so pretty." she said, motioning towards their position on the wall, "They're by the artist Guertena. I've read about him before in some of mother's books."

Garry hesitated and nodded, squinting at the plaque on the frame. "Blessed Bride and Blessed Groom..." he recoiled, "What strange paintings to have in a funeral home..."

[Name] shrugged, "Grandmother said funerals are for the living, not the dead. Maybe they want to keep everyone a little cheerier?" she suggested, then smiled, glancing over at Garry, "Hey, Garry! Let's get married when we're older, alright? So we can always stay together!"

Garry blushed as she took his hand, tugging lightly on it.

"[N-Name], you shouldn't say things like that so lightly..."

"But, Garry, look how happy the paintings are! Please, Garry? I always want to be that happy!" she objected, and Garry hesitated. Did that mean he made her happy?...

Garry sighed, "Well... Alright, [Name]..."

After all, it was to make her happy.

Garry gave a small smiled as [Name] wrapped her arms around Garry's chest, giggling when she couldn't reach her arms all the way around. It didn't matter if he agreed; she was just a little girl, she would most likely forget their promise a week from now. She was only a five-year-old girl... She couldn't possibly understand love...

... Then again, Garry supposed he did as a four-year-old boy.

Garry awoke from his thoughts, teeth clenching against the lemon candy in his mouth, sending tiny hard candy shards into his tongue.

He had almost yanked a petal off his own rose in his flashback.

Running his hand along the violet rose's meaning, he bit his lip.

[Name]... Was she alright?...

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