Chapter 2: Cosplay, Clumsy Hands, First Sparks

We met at a comic convention.

He was cosplaying a hunter from a super niche fandom at the time. Of course he was. Leave it to Mason to go all in.

I’d finally worked up the nerve to go out, figuring I’d just stand in a corner for a while to soak up the atmosphere and then leave.

But he was just too good-looking.

Photographers and other cosplayers swarmed him, taking pictures nonstop.

As luck would have it, I was cosplaying that hunter’s partner.

Some fellow fans from our tiny fandom recognized us and dragged us together for photos.

Two total strangers, both socially anxious, being told to pose for all kinds of intimate shots in front of the camera.

We were so stiff and flustered, we had no idea what to do.

When the shoot finally ended, we bolted out of the crowd like we were running for our lives.

Panting, we ran to a deserted corner.

Just as we let out a sigh of relief, I looked down and realized we were still holding hands—tightly.

We both just stood there, too mortified to let go or even speak.

So we just stood there in silence and added each other on Messenger.

Chatting later, he said, “Hey, um, do you want me to let go of your hand?”

I replied, “Actually… holding hands makes me feel kind of safe. Maybe we could just…”

He said, “What a coincidence, I feel the same way. Sorry if that's weird.”

So the two of us just stood there, heads down, holding hands until the convention ended. Only then did we reluctantly let go and leave.

I remember the way my palm tingled after, the shape of his hand imprinted on mine all the way home. We liked the same stuff, so we kept texting after we got home.