SYLUS: Sad Vodka

A ragged sob worked its way out of Harley.  

It was me who couldn't feel like I could breathe. I didn't know how to make this better for her. I had never had anyone be this open to me, falling into my arms all broken and wounded. Harley was the first, but I didn't know how to bandage her up a little, just for now.  

I could only cup the back of her head, focusing on her little breaths as she clung to me, desperately looking for comfort. This shouldn't have made me feel warm on the inside like I'd been given something. It was selfish to feel this way, but if Harley was going to lose it—if she was going to let go for once, then she needed to do it in my arms. It was going to be with me, nobody else. I wasn't going to dissect it—the reason why was that I just knew that if Harley needed someone, it was going to be me. Just me.