She hadnât planned on going in.
The costume shop sat wedged between a discount electronics store and a nail salon, its windows crowded with mannequins frozen mid-celebrationâwitches, superheroes, glittering showgirls. It was the kind of place you only entered with a purpose. A party, a theme night, something specific.
Still, something about it tugged at her as she passed. A flicker of curiosity, maybe boredom. Before she could second-guess it, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The air smelled faintly of plastic, fabric dye, and something sweet.
Rows of costumes stretched out before her. She wandered without direction, fingers brushing against sequins, faux leather, feathered trims. Pirate coats. Angel wings. Latex catsuits. Nothing held her attention for long.
Her hand driftedâabsently, lazilyâand then stopped.
Her fingers brushed the fabric, andâ
Not pain. Not quite surprise. Something warmer. A sudden, electric pulse that shot up her arm and settled low in her chest, blooming outward in a slow, dizzying wave. She froze, breath catching.
The sensation returned instantly. Stronger this time. A soft, intoxicating warmth, like laughter bubbling up from nowhere, like a secret only she had just discovered. Her lips parted as she exhaled, and for a second, the rest of the store seemed to blur.
The tag read: Harley Quinn.
A full-body suitâsleek, bold, unmistakable. Red and black split down the middle, glossy in places, matte in others. It looked almost alive under the lights.
She pulled her hand back.
Another pulse. Another wave. This time it lingered, humming faintly under her skin even after she let go.
ââŚokay,â she murmured, though there was no one nearby to hear.
She stood there longer than she meant to, fingers hovering, brushing, retreating, returning. Each contact brought that same strange, delicious feeling. Not overwhelmingâbut compelling. Addictive, in a quiet, creeping way.
She told herself it was just the texture. Some kind of fabric trick. Static, maybe.
But when she finally took the costume off the rack, her heart was beating faster than it should have been.
She almost didnât buy it.
She walked around the store with it draped over her arm, pretending to browse other things, giving herself time to come to her senses. It was ridiculous. She didnât go to costume parties. She didnât need this.
But every time she shifted it, her fingers brushed the material again.
And every time, that warmth returned.
By the time she reached the register, she wasnât even pretending anymore.
âItâs⌠for a party,â she said, though the cashier hadnât asked.
At home, she hung it in her closet.
Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. Life moved on, routine settling back into place. The memory of the sensation dulled, softened, became something she could almost dismiss as imagination.
She avoided looking at it. Avoided thinking about it. When she opened her closet, her gaze slid past that one section, like her mind refused to linger.
Until one afternoon, without really knowing why, she stopped.
Her hand moved before she could overthink it.
Fingers brushing fabricâ
Stronger than she remembered.
The warmth surged up instantly, curling through her chest, her stomach, her thoughts. It wasnât just a sensation anymoreâit was a pull. A bright, buzzing curiosity that drowned out hesitation.
Her grip tightened on the hanger.
âI mean⌠itâs just trying it on,â she muttered.
That was reasonable. Normal.
The fabric slid over her skin like it had been made for her.
The moment it settled into place, the world shifted.
The sensation wasnât a pulse anymoreâit was constant. A steady, intoxicating hum that filled every inch of her awareness. Her posture changed without her noticing at firstâhips tilting, shoulders relaxing into something looser, more confident.
ââŚooookay then,â she drawled, the word stretching, twisting, playful and sing-song. âWell ainât this a kick~â
She caught her reflection.
And grinnedâwide, crooked, a little too eager.
âLookit you⌠heeheeâlookit me,â she giggled, tapping the mirror lightly. âAll dolled up anâ ready ta play, huh?â
Something in her eyes had changed.
She didnât take it off that day.
Time blurred. Thoughts softened around the edges, replaced by a bubbling energy that refused to settle. She moved differentlyâlooser, bolder, like every motion was part of a performance she didnât remember rehearsing but knew perfectly.
Her voice twisted further, words bouncing, erratic, gleefully unhinged.
âCâmon, câmon, donât be such a stick in the mud,â she chirped at the empty room, pacing. âLoosen up, puddinâ, lifeâs sâposed ta be fun, yâhear me? Fuuun!â
Somewhere, faint and distant, a quieter version of herself noticed.
Not when it felt this good.
She did get the costume off.
It wasnât dramatic. No big moment. Just⌠gone.
Hung back up in the closet.
She stood there afterward, breathing slowly, her reflection staring back at her in normal clothes.
âOookay⌠yeah, yeah, weâreâ weâre fine, weâre totally fine,â she muttered quickly, words tripping over themselves with a lingering lilt. âNothinâ weird, nothinâ funnyâjust⌠heh⌠just a lilâ hiccup, yeah?â
Her posture didnât quite settle back. Her thoughts still skipped in odd, playful patterns. A giggle slipped out at the wrong momentâtoo bright, too sharp.
It faded, a little, over the next few days.
And the memory of how it feltâ
That didnât fade at all.
But this time, it was harder.
Knew how easy it would be to slip back into that feeling. That warmth. That bright, buzzing freedom where everything felt sharper, funnier, better.
Almost as much as it excited her.
âWhat if I donât come back next time?â she whispered one night.
Then, softerâtilted, lilting despite herself:
ââŚwhat if I donât wanna come back, huh?â
Her lips curled into a slow, uncertain smile.
She held out longer than she expected.
Every time she opened the closet, she looked away.
Every time her hand drifted too close, she pulled it back.
Fabric against fingertips.
The warmth roared back, stronger than ever, flooding her thoughts before she could even think to resist.
âOhhh, there yâare, sweetheart,â she purred instantly, voice snapping into that bright, chaotic cadence. âMiss me? âCourse ya didâheehee, I knew ya would.â
The hanger was in her hand before she remembered picking it up.
The costume was halfway on before hesitation even had a chance to form.
When she looked in the mirror this time, there was no confusion.
Just a wide, delighted grin.
âWell, well, well~,â she cooed, cocking her head, eyes glittering. âTook ya long enough ta quit playinâ hard ta get, didnâtcha?â
There was no one left inside her to argue.
Later, standing in the doorway of her apartment, she glanced back once at the quiet, ordinary space sheâd lived in before.
Then she laughedâbright, ringing, just a little wild.
âPfftâwhat a snoozefest,â she snickered, waving it off. âCanât keep all this fun bottled up, no sirree~â
Her fingers traced the edge of a sleeveâanother Harley Quinn costumeâalready humming with that familiar, irresistible energy.
Somewhere out there, she knew, there were more people like her.
People who just needed a little push.
Her smile widened, sharp and delighted.
âDonâtcha worry, dolls,â she sang, skipping forward into the world. âIâm gonna share the loveâgonna make ya feel it, every lilâ tingly bit~â
And as she disappeared into the crowd, the thought of ever being anyone else again didnât even cross her mind.