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All Eyes On Me	By : ibgarry Category: +G through L > Ib Views: 1242 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Previously uploaded on AO3 and FFN. I do not own Ib or its characters, nor do I make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 4
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- 6
Garry was always pleasantly surprised when Carrie was at work before him, so when he found her sitting and waiting around for a visitor when he arrived, he was elated. He loved having company from the moment he arrived at work. She typically grabbed his papers for him when she was early, as well, knowing that her dressing room was his first stop when he got in. He took the schedule from her as he propped the door open with a chair.
It was Tuesday, and by the way he saw the schedule changing, he knew the schedule was going to be a slow change over the course of the week. He wasn't as shaken by the order as he had been on Monday, but that time around he was both relieved and concerned to find he would be announcing less.
He pointed towards a jumbled setup and moved the paper so Carrie could see. "Are all these people performing without choreography at the same time?"
She nodded, knowing she was going up with two others for three different songs. "I'm with them. Honestly, I would rather have the stage for myself."
"I know you would." Garry set the schedule on her vanity counter and cracked his neck. Carrie cringed, but Garry failed to notice. "Do you have a cigarette?"
She turned her stool around to her vanity and sifted through her purse until she had a cigarette in her hand. Garry took it, and Carrie pulled out a lighter and a cigarette for herself. She twirled it in her finger. Garry's response was automatic- to pat his pockets until he found which pocket held his lighter, but the third time around with no luck, Carrie stopped him. "Here, let me." She leaned forward and lit his cigarette.
The flame went out and he inhaled, and a plume of smoke followed Garry's warm voice. "Thanks."
She lit hers. "No problem. Did you two have fun last night?"
"What?"
"I left you and Ib in your dressing room."
He laughed. "I guess, why?"
Carrie groaned. "I thought you would have an interesting story for me!"
"It wasn't too terribly exciting."
There was a murmur from outside. "Are you guys done talking about me?"
Carrie laughed dramatically. "Yes, we're done! Were you listening to us talk about you that entire time?" She flicked ash into a crystal ashtray she had positioned in her lap.
Ib stepped in and shut the door behind her. She dropped her drawstring bag in a corner and started to cough. "God, that's awful."
"We can put them out." Carrie assured her, but she made no effort to pull the cigarette away from her face. She was keen on going though each carton, surely.
"No, it's just… strong." She choked out the last word and sputtered.
"Seriously. I can put it out. Do you have asthma or something?"
"No, I don't." She shook her head violently and coughed once more. Garry grimaced. "I'm just not used to the smell."
"I would offer one to you, but…" Carrie began to lower her hand.
Ib considered. "Sure, I could try one."
"Ib!" Garry yelled, turning to Ib in his stool. He turned to Carrie for help when Ib failed to respond appropriately with the turn of her head, but Carrie, as well, was unsympathetic. Garry scowled. "She doesn't need to smoke."
"Like hell." She leaned over and handed Ib a cigarette. She smiled and took it with enthusiasm. Carrie beckoned her forward. "C'mere so I can light that thing."
"Oh, God."
She lit the cigarette, and Ib pulled it away from her mouth immediately. "What do I do?" She asked, turning the cigarette in her hand. Garry sighed, flicking ash into the crystal ashtray.
"Just breathe in. Not too much."
"She's going to puke, Carrie!" Garry cried.
He watched her impending doom, pulling his cigarette out of his mouth. Ib leaned on him with her hand for support, sighing. "Can you catch my puke?"
"I will not."
She inspected the cigarette for a moment before putting it in her mouth and taking a cautious breath. She had barely breathed before she ripped it away suddenly, small plumes of smoke erupting from her mouth with every cough.
Carrie took the cigarette and put it out quickly. She took a puff of her own. Garry was twitching to help despite his reluctance, more out of fear for her health than sympathy. His cries of distress countered his actions somewhat.
"Don't puke on me!" He could hear Carrie giggling.
Garry heard Ib groan through her chokes, but she was smiling.
"I told you you didn't need that!" Garry was rubbing circles into her back, his other hand holding his cigarette to his face to casually cover his embarrassed laughter. As fatherly as he desired himself to be, he was not in a good position to convincingly pull it off. "What were you thinking?!"
She rested her arms on his shoulders and cleared her throat. "Sorry."
"You're really not good at smoking," Carrie laughed.
"So I see," she panted. Carrie handed her a water bottle, and Ib gulped half of it down. "I can taste the lung cancer in my mouth."
"Well." Carrie watched her, amused.
They put their cigarettes out quickly after, and it gave Ib time to catch her breath. After a moment, all the excitement had dissipated, and everyone was getting back to business. Garry didn't want to have to deal with his clothes just yet, so he avoided the idea of leaving, hanging around the two girls as they set up their room.
He spoke to them as they were getting ready, shedding clothes and putting on makeup. When Ib was ready to get changed, she hid behind the curtain, saying she was "still scared of getting changed in front of other people"; in turn, Garry offered to leave, but she shook her head: "No, I'll just hide." Garry was stunned into silence. Carrie laughed at him.
As the two of them finished their makeup, Mary arrived with an array of dresses in tow, stacked one by one on her arm. She didn't greet Carrie's sunny "hello", and Carrie was nothing less than irritated with her roommate the moment she walked past. Ib backed silently away from her vanity, grabbing her makeup she had yet to apply. Mary sat in her fluffy stool, throwing off her clothes.
"Um, hi, sunshine," Carrie barked.
"Sorry I'm late," Mary muttered, pulling her hair back into a ponytail.
They all were quiet. Garry noticed Ib fidget behind her clothing rack, retreating to a dark corner where their lockers were.
"So, Mary, did you get some new dresses?" Ib asked from afar. Garry observed the exchange, knowing he was safe from engagement as long as he kept his distance.
Mary jumped with excitement, a contrast from the atmosphere. "I did!" She turned to Carrie in her stool, rubbing her foundation into her face. Little by little, her bangs began to fall into her eyes. "They're super cute! You can try them on if you want."
"Oh, no thanks," Ib declined. Garry could sense in her voice the strong regret over beginning a conversation. She stepped out sheepishly from the curtain then, dressed only in a lacey patterned bra and matching panties.
"Oh, you're already changed!" Mary chimed. Garry and Carrie exchanged stubborn glances. "On that note, could I try on a dress of yours, Ib?"
Garry flinched, and Ib followed suit at the request, a delay in realizing the question had been directed to her. "I… I suppose…" She said. A "no" in anyone else's mind, but Mary surely wouldn't pick up on it.
Mary continued on her makeup, and Ib stepped in a few times to help her. Garry could tell even from a few feet away that her hands were trembling.
By the time Ib was done with Mary, Carrie had moved to another chair and was kicking back, texting aggressively. Mary went straight for Ib's dresses when Ib backed away. She almost tripped over herself when she backed into the vanity to move herself out of Mary's way.
"This one's cute!" Mary exclaimed, pulling a dark red dress from the rack. It wasn't something Garry would have expected to see on stage; it covered too much, although it certainly was short. He knew the manager chose the outfits, so he wondered why he would incorporate a dress in with the rest of her wardrobe.
Ib murmured, "Oh, that's mine..." and Garry's suspicions were corrected.
Mary slipped into the dress, ignoring Ib. She became aware of the zipper that ran up the back of the dress and backed into Ib. "Will you help me with this?" She asked, her hands bent awkwardly behind her back. She dropped her arms when Ib grabbed the zipper and began tugging on it. It zipped up nearly all the way until it was up to her shoulder blades, and it stopped there. From that point, it wasn't going anywhere.
Ib strained for a few seconds longer and tugged relentlessly at the zipper before the room heard a distinguishable ripping noise, and they all knew the zipper had torn away from the fabric. Garry had seen it coming clear as day, but he was still shocked at the noise, as if he had witnessed a car crash just then. He heard Ib sigh, "It ripped…", and she unzipped the ruined dress.
Mary was borderline-fuming. "You're flatter than me! Of course I didn't fit!" She writhed her way out of the torn dress, and Ib gave her room. She was mortified.
"Hey, now, don't be like that..." Garry retorted, standing from his chair and marching towards them. Mary flung the dress to the ground. Garry dropped to the floor and grabbed it. He stood and stepped around Mary to hand the dress to Ib. "It's an easy fix," He assured her, and she nodded, taking the dress with steady hands. "Yeah, I... I can fix it tomorrow. It's not a problem."
"Mary, stop bothering the poor girl!" Carrie interjected, pushing herself up from her chair. She dropped her phone in her seat. "You have other priorities besides destroying her clothing! What were you thinking?!" Garry was mildly entertained by the fact that Mary was being yelled at in the buff. She was red from her face to her shoulders.
"Ugh, fine." She stepped to the side, swinging open the wardrobe next to Ib's clothing rack. She looked over her choices. Carrie had already returned to occupying herself with her phone.
Garry was prepared to sit in the silence and return to his chair, but the printed schedule moving in his peripheral vision grabbed his attention. He turned to see Ib reading over the schedule herself. Something amused her, though Garry couldn't catch what it was before she was up and moving again, sitting herself down in front of the vanity mirror.
She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and pulled open a drawer to find a hair clip for her bangs, cut straight across her face. It wasn't until she looked up at Garry and smirked that he realized he had been watching her for a few seconds too long. "Want to help me?" She teased. He complied with a sigh and pulled her bangs up out of her eyes. She handed him a clip, and he pinned her hair back back.
"Garry, it's already 8pm, you know," Carrie said.
"You're kidding," He gasped. Ib smiled in the mirror, staring at herself while she relaxed. He heard Mary's wardrobe squeak as she shut it.

"Nope." She stood at the mirror where Garry could see her, running her fingers through her hair. "I ought to start getting ready at least. I've had my fun." She pulled her stool out. "You'll need to start getting ready, yourself, cutie."
"I agree." Ib unzipped her makeup bag, and Garry stepped back. "Cutie?"
"Oh, hell," Carrie scoffed. "You're precious."
Mary laughed. "He's also really gay."
Carrie's jaw clenched. Ib snorted. Carrie failed to notice. "He's pansexual, Mary."
"I need to get changed."
"Hurry back!" Carrie yelled, turning from the door as Garry shut it.
He hardly tried to hurry to avoid watching three girls apply makeup. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy their company- he adored Carrie and Ib- but watching women put on makeup wasn't my favorite past time.
He wasn't surprised to find his coworker had yet to arrive. He shoved his clothes into the back of his locker as he stripped himself of each article. It was oddly quiet in his dressing room since he was so far away from everyone else, so the change between going from a room with four people to a room of his own left him momentarily lonely.
He fumbled over his black tie as he always did; he found a tear in its underside and knew he couldn't immediately retire or fix it. He tucked it into the neck of his suit vest.
He drew out each step on his walk back to Mary's room, but with Lady and her friends just ahead, he couldn't walk any slower. There was a large group of then waiting around in the hallway, all dressed up and ready for work. They had been so quiet the whole time, he hadn't realized they clocked in. They were all leaning against the walls opposite of each other, and they greeted Garry as he walked pass, some waving.
As he stepped into the room, he wasn't surprised to find all three of the girls completely absorbed in painting their faces. He was a little disheartened; he'd hoped they would have been finished in the time it had taken Garry to dress himself, but he saw Carrie was just moving onto her eyeshadow.
Garry sat in the view of their mirrors, but they were too focused to care. Already, Ib seemed to have made amends with Mary; they were sharing a mirror, neither exchanging a word. Garry could hear most of the conversation outside, though it was nothing interesting.
He kicked his feet against his stool for a moment and drummed against his legs, looking around the room as he waited.
Ib's tube of mascara clattered against the counter, and she pushed herself up from her seat. She turned in Garry's direction, grabbing a hair brush.
"How's this?" She asked. Her eyeliner was winged like it had been on her first day; her red eyeshadow blended into black over her eyeliner. The red in the hollows of her cheeks was perfect.
"Good."
She handed Garry the hair brush and turned. Realizing what she was doing, Garry hesitated. Somehow, it wasn't his strongest field, brushing hair, but he decided to play along; he couldn't do that much harm.
He took her hair in his hands. She had very healthy hair (unlike his own, bleached to disrepair). Hers was thick, but not quite to the extent that Mary's hair was. He hadn't a clue why Ib had asked him to brush her hair, since there were no tangles or knots. She was out of view of the mirror, but she seemed to relax.
"You look like you're about to fall asleep," Carrie said. She had stopped applying lipstick.
"No one's played with my hair in years," Ib sighed, leaning her elbow on Garry's leg. He leaned back in his stool, and it creaked under his weight.
Carrie eyed Garry suspciously, and he was thrown off wondering what she was trying to tell him in one glance; he tried to quickly finish brushing Ib's hair. Ib was entirely still.
When he had finished, Garry held the brush in front of her. "Here you go." She looked down and stared for a moment before she took the brush.
Garry looked up at Mary, who he found had been staring only at herself in the mirror for quite some time.
"You sure are quiet," He said to her.
She scowled at Garry's reflection in the mirror. "I'm not!"

Garry led all three girls backstage before the show. Mary managed an enthusiastic facade in front of all the staff that Garry saw right through. Carrie was bouncing on the balls of her feet while they sat around in the cramped room behind the curtains. When Garry shot her a look, she groaned melodramatically. Rarely was she ever nervous for a show, but she seemed to be nervous then. She hopped in place whenever she was getting a gut feeling of anxiety; attacks were always common with her. She was not at all thrilled, at least.
Ib was working with some kind of footing all on her own, but instead of surveying her on it, Garry just let her at it. In the far corner by the door, Mary was talking boisterously with two girls who were just as excited as she.
Garry could only somewhat hear Ib humming in time to her footwork across from him, though he couldn't tell what it was exactly that she was humming. Carrie was entirely lost in her nervous bouncing reverie; Garry didn't plan on breaking her train of thought (or lack thereof).
Ib turned towards Garry, still on her toes. "Do you know this song?"
He shook his head. "I can't say I do..."
"No?" She hummed some more, hopping around with a euphoric grace. As the melody became familiar to him, she stopped humming and threw her balance. Carrie's daze snapped while Ib began to spin, faster and faster on her toes. Garry laughed and clapped for her, entranced. The three girls who had once been chatting with Mary kicked up a giddy air over her dancing, clapping enthusiastically.
Ib stopped herself and stepped to the side, and Carrie clapped for a moment. Her nerves were entirely gone; Garry and Carrie stood still, smiling identically.
Mary and the girls directed their attention back to their subject at hand. Ib bounded over to Garry.
"How did I do?" She asked. Carrie was delighted.
"You looked like you were having fun," Garry noted, a toothy grin plastered to his face.
"I was!" Ib swept her hair off her shoulder, beaming. "My mom made me do ballet when I was younger. It was dreadful when I was young, but now I suppose it's more handy than I ever thought it would be."
Garry leaned back, crossing his arms. "How long did you do ballet for?"
"I don't know. A long time. Six years, I think."
Garry was speechless. "W-why did you ever stop?!"
She shrugged and turned her face away. "In retrospect, I wasn't too bright. I probably would have quit sooner if I had been a more outspoken child. I got scholarship money for it once, before I knew what a scholarship was."
"Five minutes!" One of the girls shouted. Garry straightened his vest.
"You looked so pretty spinning like that!" Carrie interjected, a bounce in her voice. Ib giggled bashfully.
"It's nothing."
"I got dizzy just looking at you." Carrie crossed her arms.
Ib turned to Garry. "So, you're pansexual?"
Garry groaned. "Really?"
"I guess. What's up with that, then?"
"I just like dudes."
"But you're pansexual."
"Okay, girls, too."
Carrie was whispering something, and when Ib coyly kicked her to get her to stop, Carrie gasped teasingly and kicked her back.
"You're not going to start asking me about my sex life, are you?"
"No. Gross." Ib and Carrie continued to play heel tennis. "Unless you care to share."
"That would take hours," Carrie groaned jokingly, uttering profanities when Ib snagged Carrie's stiletto heel in hers. Ib grabbed absently at Carrie's hand while she struggled, and Carrie began to fight against her.
"Don't share that!"
"Fine, I guess you're a virgin." Carrie strained, pushing against Ib. Ib was having a blast.
"Oh, for God's sake!"
"At least five dudes, am I right?"
"Carrie, are we really doing this?!"
She grunted when she knew Ib had the upper hand. "Six?"
"Carrie!" He was mortified. There was an all-knowing glint in her eyes.
"Ib," she groaned, still fighting, "I'll have you know Garry has had at least seven guys-"
Garry screeched. Carrie and Ib doubled over laughing, forgetting their fight, and he was deathly embarrassed over the infraction of his voice.
"How many girls, then?" Ib murmured.
Carrie laughed audaciously. "Two."
"Carrie, I will report you for sexual harassment."
Carrie screamed, but she was smiling. "We work in a strip club, you asshole! Don't pull that 'harassment' crap on me!" Ib was muffling her laughter.
"Thanks, Carrie."
"Well, I wasn't lying!" He wasn't going to argue that.
Ib butted in: "Do you have a preference, then?"
Garry shook his head.
Mary and two other girls began to return to their dressing rooms, leaving behind Lady. Ib spoke first. "Should we be getting ready?"
"Standing here is enough for now," Carrie replied. Ib nodded.
From backstage, they could hear a group of college boys and older men speaking. On cue, Carrie and Ib sighed. Garry chuckled. Dance music was faint in the background, and Garry tapped his foot to it for just a moment before it bored him to keep rhythm. Ib watched the floor, but in the vacant dark they could see Carrie looking through a crack in the curtain.
"They don't sound familiar," she said in a hushed voice.
"They don't," Garry agreed. Carrie strode towards the other side of the curtain. She and Lady greeted each other.
Ib sat in a chair beside Garry. It creaked slightly under her. "I'm tired."
Realizing she was trying to make small talk with him, Garry replied, "Did you not sleep well?"
"No, I did." She and Garry watched Carrie. He pitied her when he realized she was still bouncing on her toes, standing alone in the sliver of yellow light that leaked past the curtain.
"Have you been eating well?"
"If a strict diet of ramen means eating well."
"You are very thin."
"You sound like my mother." Her voice began to waver, and she stuttered over an apology. Garry cut her off gently.
"I almost forgot you were a college kid."
"I can still afford better food..." She looked a little embarrassed about her behavior, but she continued, "Do I not look the part?"
"You look like a high-schooler."
"I get that a lot."
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All Eyes On Me