Glow in the Dark Stars

Chapter 1 - Empty Space

It's cloudy today. The overhang casts gray shadows over the city, giving it a dreary quality that matches the drizzle. They didn't have the luxury of stars in such a polluted metropolis as this-so he should be thankful for the flashing billboards and jumbotrons that brightened the night in their stead.

Harry stares at a commercial for health insurance beaming at him from an electronics store window, pretending to be distracted so he doesn't have to answer the impossible question trapping him in the street.

MJ stands next to him, bundled in the faded leather jacket that she's had since high school. The hem is worn and the sleeves are a little too short for her arms, a loose thread sticks out of a stitch on one of the sleeves and waves in the wind. Harry offered to buy her a new one, but she told him to save his pennies. It's cold out, but she isn't bothered by the chill because she's too busy staring at him with big pleading green eyes, the coffee clasped in her hands sending wisps of steam into her face.

Harry takes a ginger sip of his own coffee and pretends to consider the health insurance, even though it'd take an arm and a leg to afford. MJ ignores his attempt at avoiding her question by inching into his line of sight.

"Please, Har? Just for one night."

Every fiber of his being tells him to say "no" and run as far away from this conversation as possible. Just the idea makes his stomach plummet into his sneakers and his skin crawl with ants.

He shuffles his feet and averts his eyes, tugging up the collar of his jacket to hide, but MJ didn't become one of the Bugle's most promising reporters by giving up every time someone refused to give her an answer.

"Look, I know it's asking a lot, but this assignment could be my ticket to bigger stories at the Bugle. I know it's last minute, but I need a date. Please, I'll owe you forever."

Harry's face pinches, and he looks up at the dark overhang. A few fat drops of rain splash his face. He wishes it was pouring so he had a reason to run for cover-not that it would stop MJ. She was the most stubborn, determined person he's ever met, and he both loved and hated her for it. The weight of his silence presses heavy between them as he drags a hand down his neck.

He can say no. She'd understand. But MJ moved mountains for him; pulled his head above the water when he felt like drowning; kept him together when he thought he'd crumble into a million pieces. If their roles were reversed, she'd say yes to him.

"You won't have to talk to him," MJ says, her voice softening. "I'm just supposed to cover the event and get a few statements from the big buyers. Even if we see him, I'll do the talking. I just need a plus-one. Arm candy. All you have to do is stand there and look pretty."

Harry snorts softly, but the mention of " him " cracks a few bones, gives him heart palpitations, and a rash in his throat. He pushes a red curl out of his face, running his hand over his head.

"Fine," he sighs. She dives in for a hug before it's past his lips.

"Thank you, thank you! You're a lifesaver. The party is tomorrow. Wear something fancy."

He snorts, but hugs her back, feeling a little better in her excitement, despite the weight sitting heavy on his chest. "I'm always fancy," he says, which is more or less true. Due to his childhood upbringing, having a good appearance was drilled into his head. In spite of that (or maybe because of it), he likes looking nice, and mixing and matching outfits was one of the few talents he felt confident in. He may not have thousand-dollar suits or designer brands anymore, but he can put together a good-looking ensemble from a thrift store.

MJ can't disagree. He's helped her out of a fashion pickle more than once.

She smiles at him broadly, but it turns soft around the edges and she squeezes his hand, "Hey, if we see him, I'll kick him in the nuts personally and we can get kicked out together."