Disclaimer: I do not own Ib.

Title: Bloom

A red rose.

Ib stared at it as her tall companion held it out to her. He had been smiling happily when he had revealed it to her but as the moment stretched and she did not reach for it, it became strained.

His smile dropped as he retracted his hand, stuttering apologies.

"I'm so sorry! I should have known better than to―Of course you wouldn't want―so stupid. I can't believe I―"

He went silent as she approached him. She slipped the rose out of his hand and brought it up to her chest. She gazed up at him gratefully. The smile returned to his face, though it was a nervous one. He nodded weakly in response. She sat, tugging the sleeve of his jacket to encourage him to sit with her.

He watched her. She sat with her impeccable posture, turning the rose in her hands. A small smile appeared on her face as her thumb absently stroked the stem. She tilted her hand, allowing the rose to slip off of it to the other, now holding it in a single hand. The free hand came up and hovered above the petals, hesitating. He saw her tremble, a barely there motion that he would have missed had he not been sitting so close. The hand remained suspended midair, her whole body so still one could believe she was frozen. Garry moved closer. Next to her, he too hesitated.

After another prolonged moment of deliberation, he moved behind the still frozen child. He pulled her towards him until her body, practically a statue, was against his. He could feel her tense shoulder blades against his chest as she continued staring at the rose.

He shifted, maneuvering to look at her face. Her eyes were on the rose but unfocused, looking at something in the past they shared. He laid his head upon hers, using his chin to tuck her head into the crook of his neck. He rubbed her arms, warming her. She'd gone deathly cold. Though she wore a long sleeve shirt, it offered little comfort from the chilly autumn air.

He allowed her the time she needed to think, regretting giving her the flower in the first place. He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. Then he continued rubbing her arms and shielded her from the cool breeze with his body. He was glad that he had a naturally warm body as he felt the skin warm beneath the thin fabric of her shirt.

She'd been sitting unmoving for far too long. He allowed his hands to slide down her arms. One of his hands engulfed the one that she used to clutch the stem. The other hand met the back of her still suspended one, large, long fingers weaving between her tiny ones. He reached out, bringing her hand with it. Together they touched the bright red petals, just a slight brush of their fingertips.

He felt the rigidity of her posture ease until she was leaning comfortably against him. He didn't need to look to know that the light of awareness had returned to her eyes. He felt her fingers sandwich his own between them, imploring him to keep his hand pressed against hers, offering comfort and lending strength. He allowed her to move herself this time.

She brought their hands back to the petals, hesitating only a second to let out a shaky breath before placing their hands on the velvety petals. So soft and smooth. Their fingers ran over the curves of the petals and she seemed to finally relax. He lifted his head from the top of hers as she shifted in his lap. He looked down and found himself looking straight at her smiling face. Head upturned towards him, he pressed his lips softly against her forehead.

Her grin widened. A light flush dusted across her cheeks, the color striking against her naturally light skin and the added paleness from the cold. She was happy, so he was happy too.

Her eyes fell upon the rose again. "...too beautiful to be real..."

"Hmm?"

"That's what I thought the first time I saw the red rose in the gallery."

"...I can understand that..." And he could. The vibrant red, soft petals, the bulge of the bud that sloped inward towards the top before curling. It had been beautiful.

She tilted her head up towards him again. He couldn't help the fond smile that overtook his face as he watched her expression shift. A pucker appeared between her brows, lips pursed, and her nose twitched like the bunnies she adored so much. Her thinking face was the most adorable thing he had ever seen. He waited patiently for her to state what was on her mind. Her eyes flicked down to the rose again and she pouted. The endearing image prompted him to hold her tighter.

"Gary?"

"Yes, Ib?"

"Does this rose look more like yours or mine?"

Mirroring Ib's expression, his brows bunched together in confusion.

"Yours?" he stated uncertainly. It was what had come to his mind as he saw it. And it was red, not blue. Shouldn't it have been obvious?

Her confused face did not clear.

"Do you think it looks more like mine?"

"I'm not sure..."

"Most roses look alike. And it's red," he pointed out.

"Yeah..." she agreed softly.

"But...?" he prompted her.

"It's...bigger," she explained, frowning. That wasn't the word she was looking for.

"Bigger?"

"More...umm..." she tried to find another word. "Open?"

"What do you mean?"

She gestured to the rose, frustratedly. "Yours was shaped like this. Mine was shaped like," she floundered trying to describe it. She held her hands in a teardrop shape. "this."

"Oh! I forgot. Yours was just barely out of the budding stage. This one is in bloom. It's a bit more mature, older, I guess."

"It has more petals than mine, too."

"Yeah, I guess it does." She really was a rather astute child.

"Do you think...that if I was older...my rose would have looked like this? Like yours?"

He blinked in surprise then grinned. "Maybe." It was an interesting thought.

Looking at her, he realized she had changed. Just a bit. She had gotten a bit taller. As she leaned against him now, her head lay at the height of his collarbone. He could remember when he met her it had barely reached the bottom of his chest. He hair was longer, just by an inch or two. Her face was less round, though still plump with youth. He entertained the thought that her rose may have looked like the one in her hands if he had met her now. It was in bloom, but still younger, still not as full as the one he had in the gallery. Unbidden, an image flashed in his head. An image of what Ib might look like as she continued to grow. He shook the vision from his head, smiling to reassure the confused girl in his lap that saw the action. The moment ended and the conversation turned to the normal mundane occurances they always talked about.

As she ran off to leave at the end of their visit, he could almost see the image of her older self. A taller, lean figure, graceful as ever. Hair even longer than it was now. The enthusiastic waving he returned from a longer arm with long, elegant fingers. More mature attire in that same trademark red she always wore. And those same unforgettable crimson eyes in a face that had lost the roundness of childhood. He lost sight of her as she turned the corner on her way home.

Garry had always thought of her as adorable. But...

She'd be beautiful when she was older.

A/N: Please don't kill me for this. I ship IbxGarry so much. I just had to write this! I'm not good enough at writing yet to actually write a romance anyway. These little drabbles of mine are not in any particular order. I just really wanted to write something with an inkling towards them being together. I really hope you enjoyed this.

Thanks for your support as always.

Until next time friendlies,

Dfsemina