Harlivy & Hivy

Reading Between The Lines

His voice.

Harleen swallowed, unconsciously ghosting her fingers over the shoulder Jay had touched when he told her that. Joker had been helping her compile a list of flaws to be corrected. A menagerie of quirks the blonde had which needed tending to make her into a better person. Better for him, explicitly, but the girl took the suggestions in stride as a way to round herself properly. All her life Harleen Quinzel had had people she considered close walk straight through it without so much as a glance upwards towards her: friends…her first boyfriend…her own damn father. She’d tried her hardest to connect to others in relationships, but they just never seemed interested in returning the deeper affections she harbored; she was only a footnote in their lives, meanwhile she craved reciprocation from them like she did air to breathe. The only one who ever saw her was her mother…but with three rowdy brothers under one roof the woman didn’t exactly have much time to lend towards her seemingly self-dependent daughter, thus Harleen was left fighting tooth and nail to earn so much as a crumb of attention from anyone willing to acknowledge her yearning heart. The blonde couldn't help but suspect she was the cause of her own social shortcomings…only she could be the one to blame for the unsatisfying, one-sided relationships she experienced all her life. There could be no other explanation.

A heavy sigh from the blonde’s lips escaped, joining the gentle breeze as it traveled in the air. Her fingers fidgeted with small gift she held in her hands.

That was part of the reason she chose to pursue psychology, Harleen supposed. It was a means to figure out what exactly made people tick, to learn how to read them so she knew exactly what they wanted from her. So she could mold herself to their approval. If she could do that successfully then maybe, just maybe, someone would finally want her back. And now here was Jack Napier, extending a patient hand to help her accomplish exactly that. She didn’t deserve his help, she didn’t deserve his love, yet here he was helping any way he could. And people had the nerve to call him heartless…

The clown prince of crime was truly the first person to open the blonde’s eyes to her flaws, to specifically point out the reasons for her long life of failures. She hoped with his guidance she could correct herself enough to be someone who deserved him. And maybe…with those lessons he taught…she could figure out how to be someone who deserved Ivy too…

Harleen’s heart felt heavy as that familiar sense of longing came to her. Since Jack had opened her eyes to how much she needed to change she couldn’t help but ponder all the faults she’d probably made in the past around the redhead. She cringed at the thought of all the fuckups that had gone unnoticed in the moment. The blonde found herself astonished—and thankful—that the botanist had yet to stray from her despite her probable missteps.

Thanks to the clown, the girl was now hyper aware of everything she did… but unlike Joker, who made it quite clear when the blonde’s quirks irritated him, Ivy never gave any indication of scorn with Harleen’s behavior. Never an indignant brow when her doctor said something that soured her, she never interrupted a foolish mannerism, nor discouraged how the girl carried herself in attire. She only ever seemed to look at her with those unchanging, warm eyes. Those praising eyes. As if the blonde could do no wrong by them. Harleen bitterly doubted that was a possibility...

Ivy’s mirthful stoicism was as consistent as it was difficult to read. Harleen had always prided herself on reading people easily until the redhead entered her life. Now the doctor found herself agonizing over every lilt of her patient’s voice and sway of her body language to no avail with what any of it could possibly indicate. It was frustrating. Harleen had no damn clue what the woman wanted from her. How was she supposed to know what to correct about herself when Ivy gave her no hints?