The First Spark

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It happened on a rainy Thursday, the kind where the city feels like it’s wrapped in a soft gray blanket. Leo and Jamie had been friends for months. Their friendship was built on shared playlists and late-night ramen runs. They also had a mutual love for obscure sci-fi comics.

They were walking home from a pop-up art show. They laughed about a sculpture that looked suspiciously like a giant spaghetti monster. Jamie’s t-shirt was soaked, and Leo offered his jacket, brushing Jamie’s hand as he did. That tiny touch lingered.

Under the awning of a closed bookstore, they paused. The rain danced around them, neon lights flickering in puddles. Jamie looked up, eyes bright and uncertain. Leo leaned in — not too fast, not too slow — and kissed him.

It wasn’t dramatic. No thunderclap, no swelling music. Just warmth. Just right.

Jamie blinked, then smiled. “I liked that,” he said, voice barely above the rain.

Leo grinned. “Me too.”

And just like that, something shifted. The city kept raining, the world kept spinning, but for them — everything had changed.

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