mask placed to the side,    one can freely witness every discomposure that piqued the muscles of your embarrassed complexion.    your jacket had found the corner of the sofa,    but the thick green hoodie remains a comfort to your unseen skin;    in spite of the miles you purposefully put between the pair of you,    the atmosphere feels inescapably vulnerable and your throat itches for the inhaler that aggressively pushes against your thigh.    you try to ignore it,    opting for a deep, inaudible inhale instead,    hoping to stave off the rather mortifying breathlessness you felt begin to burn inside your chest.     perhaps you would object had it not been for her persistence,     @revup rarely left room to argue;     her tone seemly matter of fact in regards to any sort of discussion,    and here seemed no different.    she wasnât asking,  but telling.    so you remain perpetually compliant,     fatigue settling into every nook of your tired body and lugging you lazily towards the bed,   in which she appeared expectant of your company.    slow movements speak only of a bone-aching tiredness and rather,   some painstaking apprehension,    of entering with harley a brand new territory:     you were rarely welcomed into oneâs home,    let alone their bed,    and your motions deny you any appearance of false comfort.    you did not know how to sleep with someone else beside you,   how to lay,   how to breathe:   all of it seeping worriedly through your over-analytical subconscious as you wish only for her nightâs peace.    sitting with your back to her,    you remove your inhaler covertly and set it to the side,     followed then by your clear, thick-rim glasses,    which left your hazel irises amid a nebulous fog to which you would rapidly shut away,    laying stiffly (and in a rather prevaricating manner) at harleyâs left side.