Sparks Fly

Teal eyes met those of tear-stained pewter.
Rain struck rusty locks with a vengeance.
A green jumpsuit was soaked with water.
His embrace was soaked with emotions.
And in the embrace, Gaara of the Desert felt something.
It fascinated him.
Captivated him.
What could make him feel such sparks?

[A/N: I have no idea why I wrote a poem-esqe thing for this one...]