He loves you. He adores you. He's been there for you ever since your dad walked out, leaving your mom lost in a haze of drugs.

He's always been by your side, and he always will be. He has so much love to give, and he gives it all to you, his little sister. No one else deserves it. No one else understands him like you do. You know his real name, his silly fears, and how he gets all whiny when you playfully threaten to mess up his "beautiful" face, as he likes to put it. You get the playful, silly version of Harley. Others, on the other hand, get the meaner, tougher Harley.

"Hey, baby sis," he called out, holding something in his rough hands. The scent of cigarettes and money lingered around him tonight. He had just come home, wearing a cheerful grin on his face. "I gotchu' these, those stupid romance-y movies ya been wanting for so long." He said, plopping down next to you on the creaky couch. "I swiped a bit more cash than usual from those loser kids." But he didn't care. Whatever made you happy made him happy.