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Harley wouldn't say she and her girlfriend are co-dependent (trust her, she's a psychiatrist) but she also wouldn't say they're good at being apart. Maybe it's a side effect of the towering pile of abandonment issues they both carry. Maybe it's just because they're better together.
Whatever it is, since they moved in together, it's rare for them to go a full day without seeing each other, even if it's just Ivy coming in late from the lab and cuddling up to her in bed.
This week, though, there's this biochemistry summit (conference? She's never sure), and because Ivy's a certified genius, she's heading out there, and because she's a passionate environmentalist, she's not even flying. Which Harley admires (her girlfriend is awesome) but also means they're spending even longer apart whilst Ivy navigates the hell that is public transit.
Harley, meanwhile, tries to ignore the little voices gnawing at her brain that want her to text Ivy every five minutes, just to make sure she's okay, that she knows she's loved, that she still loves Harley too. They've talked about it, about trying to get better at distance, at trusting in each other and their relationship. Harley tells Ivy she doesn't need to be scared of Harley leaving her; Ivy tells Harley she doesn't need to buy her gifts every day to prove her love. They're working on it.
Still, the apartment feels empty and weird, and the bed's too cold without Ivy's arms around her. She tells herself she's not going to be clingy, though. This is important to Ivy, Ivy's busy, and texting on and off each day needs to be enough. She promised Ivy she could do this, and she's going to do it.
The fourth night, though, she's cuddled up around a pillow scrolling through her phone and wishing Ivy used Instagram (like, properly. Not just to post plant facts.) Still, other people are posting from the summit, and there's Ivy in one of them, looking like a boss and laughing with someone Harley's never met.
She's not jealous, not really, because she trusts Ivy, it's just... the sting of fear doesn't leave that easily. The fear she knows is in both of them. Trauma, abandonment issues, the all-too-neurodivergent fear of being too much, of not being enough anymore.
Because fucking... look at Ivy. Look at her, out there killing it, not even looking awkward in a social situation, her job going well. Look at Harley, curled up scrolling her phone, still trying to piece back together the life her ex blew up.
She clicks into her and Ivy's chat, hovers her finger over the call button, then clicks out again. Does it three more times, before her phone starts buzzing. Ivy's name, like she knew. Harley fumbles to pick up, drops her phone, misses the answer button, almost misses the call, and finally manages to get it right.
Ivy's face fills her screen. She's in a bathrobe, sitting up against a headboard. She looks tired, kind of overwhelmed, but her grin when she sees Harley makes Harley want to jump through the screen and kiss her.
“Harls.”
“Hey!” Harley says, and it's so easy to find her loud enthusiasm now, when Ivy's there. “How's the hottest scientist in the entire world? I bet you're making this conference your bitch!”
Ivy laughs. “Sure, I guess the science part. You know me, any day I get to talk at length about photosynthesis is a good one. The social part...” She shrugs and holds up her hand. Her nails are painted, shimmery dark purple, but the ends are ragged and torn. “Only so much I can take.”
“You're doin' great!” Harley says. “Looked like you were having fun and everything!”
Ivy shrugs. “One or two people here might not be totally shit. Still, I'd rather be home watching jazz documentaries.” A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “With you.”
Harley exhales what feels like a day's worth of caught breath. It's not that she wants Ivy to be having a bad time. She only ever wants the best for her. She just... feels less pathetic, knowing Ivy misses her too.
“Me too! I mean, not the documentary part. I mean, not not the documentary, you know I kinda like it too, but mostly that's 'cause of you. I just mean. I miss you.”
Ivy blushes, just a little, and Harley wishes her mind could take a screenshot of this moment. Then she remembers her phone actually could, but it wouldn't be the same.
“Miss you too, honey. I actually ditched drinks tonight. To. You know. Call you.”
“I've been wantin' to call you,” Harley says, feeling her cheeks ache from grinning. “Just didn't want to fuck up your chance to show people how awesome you are.”
Ivy frowns. “Harls, you're the whole reason I even had the confidence to do this, you know that? Like, if I couldn't text you shit about how much of an asshole Lex Luthor is, I'd never survive the week.”
Harley grins. “He really is, right?”
“God, I haven't even told you the worst of it. His fucking keynote address...”
Harley draws the covers up around her, curls up holding the phone, and helps Ivy come up with creative insults about Lex Luthor, his speech, and half the rest of the conference, until eventually Ivy's voice trails off, her eyelids fluttering shut.
Harley looks at her girlfriend's sleeping face, half the country away, and knows she can make it through the rest of this week. Feels like she can make it through any separation. Because they're Harley and Ivy. And wherever they are, whatever's happened, they're never really very far apart.