Archive of Our Own ^beta

The room is tense as four pairs of eyes follow Yoongi’s long fingers, tracing the way they reach across the table to grab hold of the corner of the card. Jeongguk thinks he hears someone inhale sharply, and Yoongi pauses and meets each of their gazes—a bit dramatic, but the situation calls for it. After all, they are about to unravel the fate of the young boy before them, and every second, every minuscule moment, held a heavy weight.

Yoongi holds their gazes for another heartbeat, and then he’s flipping the card over in one fluid motion, letting the glossy surface gleam beneath the harsh fluorescent lights. He’s met with silence once the image is revealed; Jeongguk feels his stomach sink as he looks at the boy across from Yoongi in pity. He’s too young.

“I’m sorry, kid,” Yoongi whispers, and Jeongguk drops his head. He digs his teeth into the flesh of his bottom lip and clenches his fists.

“W-What,” the boy begins, but his voice dies as quickly as it wakes. Jeongguk doesn’t blame him; he, too, would’ve lost his voice in between the sobriety of the air. The dread is too thick to ignore, and it drags whatever string of hope the boy held downwards until all that’s left is despair.

They give him a moment to himself, to revel in the emotions of the room. Everyone knows the outcome isn’t good, but Yoongi’s not bound by law to deliver it. It’s up to the boy in front of them to hear his own fate.

Another second passes, and it’s agonisingly slow. Jeongguk stares at the card on the table before them and thinks the boy’s luck is the worst he’s seen yet.

Someone clears his throat—Seokjin, Jeongguk realises belatedly. He turns to look at his hyung, who’s pressed against the wall similarly to Jeongguk, and whose lips have grown thin. There’s impatience in his eyes, and Jeongguk nudges him in reprimand. Seokjin just frowns deeper and sighs, tearing his eyes away from the scene before them.

The boy decides. He sits straighter, braver. The gaze he fixes on Yoongi is fire and determination. “Tell me. Please.”

Yoongi’s eyes flicker right and meet Jeongguk’s; there’s hesitation in them, a moment of deep contemplation. Jeongguk’s seen that look on his hyung’s face before, but like all previous instances, his hands are bound. This is a choice Yoongi has to make alone. Jeongguk has no role in speaking this boy’s fate.

“Soobin-ssi,” Yoongi says slowly, ripping his gaze away from Jeongguk. He fixes it on the boy instead, eyes steady and calm. “I’m afraid your friends aren’t coming over tonight to simply pay you a visit.” He reaches forward and taps the card between them—the Devil stares back with evil on its lips and flames dancing at its feet. Soobin’s face turns white as sheet. “They’re coming to sacrifice you in a satanic ritual.”

They’re silent as the words sink in, but then Soobin’s shaking his head, a snort escaping from within him. He leans back, eyes narrowing at Yoongi as though to challenge him. “I may be naïve, but I’m not dumb. You’re making this whole thing up.”

Yoongi just shrugs in nonchalance. “It’s what the cards say, kid. I’m just the Reader. Unless you’ve got a better Reading to give me?”

Soobin doesn’t respond. Jeongguk watches him carefully and meets Seokjin’s gaze beside him; his hyung shifts ever so slightly, drifting closer towards the back room. They’ve had clients like Soobin before, clients who were too perceptive to fall for their shams and frauds. It’s why they’ve adopted a new system to filter the non-believers out, and Jeongguk squints, challenging their methods to fail.

It doesn’t, and Jeongguk watches as Soobin begins to believe again. The fear flickering in his eyes reawakens, and Soobin casts Yoongi a look filled with hesitation and worry. He braves the question and asks, “What do I have to do to avoid it? To—To stop my friends from performing the ritual?”

Yoongi’s eyes flit to Seokjin. They share a muted conversation that Soobin desperately tries to follow to no avail; Jeongguk sends him a smile of reassurance, already knowing the outcome. It takes a while, but the two eldest seem to come to an agreement, and Yoongi turns back to Soobin, who’s waiting with bated breath. His face cools into one of composure and indifference, and then he reaches forward with his palm facing upwards, gaze expectant.

“Five thousand won.”

Soobin hastily slaps the fee onto the open palm, and Yoongi brings it up to the light to inspect it. The bill is authentic—of course it is—and Yoongi holds it off to the side for Seokjin to collect. The eldest dutifully moves from his station behind the counter, takes the fee, and slips it into the cash box sitting on the shelf behind the register. It’s only then does Yoongi square his shoulders and gesture to the leftover cards spread across the table.

“Draw one,” he instructs, and Soobin bears holes into the spread, overthinking his actions.

Jeongguk thinks it’s a little funny, how much care and thought goes into every single action on their client’s part, when their decisions throughout the whole process do little to influence the final outcome. Well, he supposes it does guide the narrative a little, but ultimately, the basis remains the same: Yoongi, Jeongguk and Seokjin have no fucking idea how this tarot card thing actually works, and are basically pulling Readings out of their asses to make a quick buck.

It’s fun to see clients like Soobin freak when they pull cards like the Devil. The story changes every time, but Yoongi always likes to take things literally and throw in a satanic ritual or two. Jeongguk only feels slightly guilty.

Soobin finally picks a card somewhere towards the centre of the spread—”A wise choice,” Seokjin comments ominously, as though the decision had much meaning. It doesn’t, but no one voices the thought. They all stare Yoongi’s hand instead as he takes one corner and flips it upwards to reveal the final player: the Ten of Pentacles.

“Sorry, kid,” Yoongi says again, his voice deep and thick with sorrow, and Jeongguk and Seokjin dutifully slump from where they’re standing, lips pressed together to provide some sort of consolation. Soobin’s face drops immediately as his gaze darts between the three adults, looking for an explanation for the apology. Yoongi reaches out and takes Soobin’s hands in his and offers a weak smile. “I don’t think you can escape it.”

There’s now utter fear painted on the kid’s face; Seokjin’s eyes widen as he tries to catch Yoongi’s eyes, but the latter is too deep into the act to notice the look of panic.

“Even if you cancel on your friends tonight—or even if you run away to another country—you’ll only be delaying the inevitable. And even if your friends decide you’re not worth their sacrifice, someone else might deem you worthy for their ritual.”

“But!” Seokjin interjects suddenly, rushing forward and pushing Yoongi out of his seat; the younger falls sideways onto the floor as Seokjin takes his place on the ugly pink cushion on the floor. “If you come next week, your fortune might change.”

A dash of hope spreads itself on Soobin’s face, and Jeongguk quickly nods, catching on. “Yeah! One’s fortune is based on karma; if you live your life well, good things can replace the bad fate you uncovered.”

“Really?” Soobin asks innocently.

Seokjin hums. “So study well, eat well, all that stuff. And come back next week. Same time. Jeongguk will Read your fortune.”

“It’s bad luck to have the same person Read two weeks in a row,” Jeongguk lies, and Soobin stands, suddenly confident for the future.

“I’ll come back next week,” he promises sincerely, and Jeongguk feels a little bad. 

Seokjin, on the other hand, expresses nothing but encouragement. “Yep, come back next week. Same time. It’ll be the same fee, too.”

Soobin leaves shortly after that, bowing deeply and bidding them farewell as he grabs the backpack he discarded on the far wall. They watch him rush out the door and around the corner, barely missing a newly blond Jimin who’s walking in.

Jimin’s eyes follow Soobin until he’s gone, and then he turns towards the three of them, confusion and offence in his eyes. “You’re scamming children now?”

“He’s legal,” Seokjin waves off, then pauses. “Well, sort of. He’s legal internationally.”

“So he’s not legal in Korea?!”

“He’s eighteen, turning nineteen in a couple of weeks. He’s fine.”

Jimin casts Seokjin a side glance but doesn’t retort; instead, he drops onto the blue cushion Soobin was just sitting on and sighs. “At least you gave him a good fortune. He seemed pretty happy about his Reading.”

Jeongguk snorts. “If you count becoming the human sacrifice in a satanic ritual good fortune, then yeah, I guess he did alright.”

“What?”

“In our defence,” Seokjin states as he reaches into the mini-fridge they keep below the counter for refreshments, “it’s all Yoongi’s fault. You know how he gets with Readings and stuff. He’s a literal kinda guy.”

“You try coming up with bullshit on the spot when the card that’s pulled has the fucking devil on it,” Yoongi challenges immediately. He’s no longer lying flat on the ground but rather sitting upright, rubbing his elbow that had supposedly knocked against the leg of the table on his way down. Jeongguk passes him the iced Americano from the fridge, and Yoongi presses the cold plastic cup against his skin.

Seokjin leans against the wall as he sips on some sort of iced tea. He clicks his tongue. “You will be tempted to commit some evil acts with your friends.”

“And if he asks what kind of evil acts?”

“Skipping class, cheating on exams,” Seokjin clarifies, shrugging slightly. He turns to look at Jeongguk.

“Graffiti,” Jeongguk supplies, and Seokjin shoots him a finger gun.

Jimin rolls his eyes. “That’s not any better.”

A short laugh escapes Seokjin just as the bells of the shop chime overhead. “Really? I’d take detention over human sacrifice any day.”

They all move accordingly after that: Jimin removes himself from his spot on the floor, favouring to tuck himself into the back room to raid their stash of snacks. Seokjin positions himself behind the counter next to the money box, while Yoongi and Jeongguk lounge casually by the far wall, right below the ominous posters depicting the more unpleasant tarot card illustrations. All eyes are trained on the doorway that’s half-covered by beads and a sort-of sheer curtain, anticipating the next person to fall prey to their lies.

Fate doesn’t disappoint; a large smile envelops Seokjin’s face as the curtain-bead-thing is pushed aside by a large hand, allowing a small face and slanted eyes to peek through from behind. The red hair is a new astonishing feature, but Jeongguk has never expected less from Kim Taehyung. He’s the backbone of their entire business—innocent yet sharp, keen but indulgent. Whether he actually knew of their schemes has remained a mystery to the so-called tarot Readers of the shop, but Taehyung keeps coming back with enthusiasm, so they’ve never really cared. He’s a reliable customer, and he hasn’t disappointed them as of yet.

Except maybe Jeongguk spoke too soon, because as soon as Seokjin greets Taehyung brightly with a “Taehyung-ah!” (which promptly leads to Jimin slamming the door to the back room wide open with an equally—if not more—enthusiastic “TAETAE!”), another figure makes it way into the room, tall and uncoordinated yet intimidating all the same. And Jeongguk finds himself rooted to his place below the poster depicting a woman falling to her death from her tower in flames, not because this man is obviously scrutinising their establishment, but because this man is so fucking beautiful what the actual fuck.

Jeongguk has always believed in love at first sight and yeah, this might just be it.

He stares at the man as Seokjin and Taehyung converse, the former a little more quietly now that a stranger is in their midst. Jeongguk knows Seokjin has probably already figured out that this new patron is a friend of Taehyung’s (judging by the way he sticks close to the redhead), but the man’s body language is hard to read. There’s no telling what his agenda is—if he’s here to seek counsel or expose them to the public. They’re going to have to play their cards right if they want to keep their jobs and stay out of jail.

Yoongi clears his throat and makes his way behind the counter next to Seokjin. The smile on his face is a little strained. “Anyways,” he begins, eyeing the man in the back. He’s looking at the posters above Jeongguk now with a frown on his face. Jeongguk shifts his gaze onto his feet, which is a mistake because he’s suddenly aware of how thick the man’s thighs are. He internally screams and bites on his tongue. “Who’s your friend?”

Surprisingly, it isn’t Taehyung who answers; it’s Jimin, leaning against Taehyung, both of them devouring the bag of chips Jeongguk’s been saving for later. Remarkably, Jeongguk doesn’t care. (He will care later, probably, once the handsome stranger is gone. Right now, though, he has higher priorities.) “Ah, Yoongi-hyung, Seokjin-hyung, Jeongguk-ah, meet Namjoon-hyung.”

Namjoon finally tears his gaze away from the space above Jeongguk’s head and faces the owners behind the counter. “It’s nice to meet you. Taehyungie talks highly about your establishment.”

“Glad to hear we got good reviews,” Seokjin says politely, hands clasped on top of the wooden surface. “So, how can we help you today?”

“Namjoonie-hyung wants to have his fortune Read,” Taehyung pipes in, and Jimin frowns.

“Wait, I thought hyung didn’t believe in this stuff?”

Jeongguk sees Yoongi and Seokjin freeze from the corner of his eye. He meets their gazes and reads their warning signs. Red flag.

Namjoon just shrugs, though, and addresses the Readers with polite smiles. “I don’t, but Taehyung told me to at least give this place a shot, and I promised I’d try.”

“It’ll be worth it, hyung,” Taehyung promises, nodding his head eagerly. “They’re really good at what they do.”

There’s a snort from Jimin, but otherwise, no one comments on Taehyung’s statement. It’s not completely false; they are pretty good at pulling stuff out of their ass on the spot. Although Jeongguk’s sure that’s not what Taehyung meant. Maybe.

Namjoon gives Taehyung a constipated smile—kind of like he doesn’t know if he needs to take a shit or not. 

Seokjin chews his lip and turns to look at Yoongi. “We’re currently free now if you want a Reading, but you’re going to have to sign a contract of sorts.”

“Sure,” is the easy agreement, and Jeongguk watches Seokjin disappear into the backroom. He comes out a second later with a piece of paper. There’s a single line on it, and if Jeongguk squints, he can make out the Comic Sans and the all lowercase font.

If Namjoon has some qualms about the legitimacy of the document, he doesn’t voice it out, but he does look largely concerned and mostly confused. Still, he signs the paper at the bottom, leaving too much white space in between the kim namjoon will not spread hate towards the magic shop and his tiny signature on the bottom. Taehyung seems to agree, and he takes the document and draws a giant smiley face in the middle.

Seokjin nods approvingly and files the contract away. “There’s a fifteen thousand won fee that you’ll have to pay right now, if you don’t mind.”

“No refunds,” Yoongi quips, and Namjoon looks between the two of them as he pulls out his wallet.

“Uh, okay.”

Yoongi inspects the bill against the light before handing it to Seokjin who does the same. Next to Taehyung, Jimin rolls his eyes.

The wary smile slips from Seokjin’s face as he gestures at Namjoon to take a seat. “Make yourself comfortable. Jeongguk will Read your cards.”

“Okay,” Jeongguk agrees, moving mechanically onto the Reader’s side of the table. It’s only when he’s finally seated across Namjoon did he realise what he’s signing up for: Namjoon’s staring at him expectantly with wide, innocent eyes, a dimpled smile on display and cheeks flushing pink. Jeongguk’s mouth drops open in revelation, and he whips his head around to protest against the decision, but Seokjin and Yoongi are already gone. So are Taehyung and Jimin, and Jeongguk kind of wants to murder them all.

Namjoon coughs, eyes curving into crescents as he nods at the cards. “I believe you have to deal them to me?”

“Yes,” Jeongguk answers automatically, then realises he forgot a step. He shakes his head. “I mean, no. Uh, you need to give me a question.”

“A question?”

“Yeah, like, a question. That asks. A question.” Oh god, he’s so fucking embarrassed.

Namjoon laughs, and Jeongguk can’t tell if it’s a friendly laugh or if Namjoon’s laughing at him. Probably the latter. “I understand what a question is. But I’m asking what kind of question you’re expecting.”

“Oh.” Duh. Jeongguk, you’re so stupid. “A question about your future. Like, what should I wear today? Or, how can I be with the guy I like?”

“So open-ended questions?”

Jeongguk blinks. “I think?”

Namjoon smiles again. “Okay. Um, how about: why do I feel so unaccomplished in my current job? Is that good enough?”

“I think so? We can try and see if, uh, the higher spirits need something more specific.”

“Oh, okay.”

He shuffles the deck. It’s a little clumsy; he’s never been great at riffle shuffling to begin with, but Namjoon’s watching him closely and his hands tremble a little more, fumble a little frequently. After what seems like an eternity, he finally shuffles the deck and spreads it across the table. “Choose three, please.”

Unlike their other clients, Namjoon doesn’t seem to care much for which cards he picks. He simply points to three cards in the centre, and Jeongguk gestures at him to pull them from their place in the spread, still face down. He clears the table of the leftovers and focuses on the three Namjoon picked.

The most left card is turned over first, and Jeongguk stares at it, scrambling to come up with the beginnings of a story. There’s a priest painted onto the glossy surface, dressed in a white robe and a pointy hat. Jeongguk doesn’t know what the fuck it means (granted, he doesn’t know what any of the cards mean), but he figures that if there’s a priest involved, it must mean religion.

He chances a glance at Namjoon, who’s waiting for him expectantly. Namjoon doesn’t look like the type to believe in a god.

“Jeongguk-ssi?”

“Sh,” he commands, trying to find something worth of bullshitting. “I’m talking to the higher spirits.”

“Uh, okay.”

Oh, fuck it. He’ll just do what he does on his university assignments: wing it. “So, the higher spirits have spoken to me.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk agrees, nodding largely. “So, um, this card’s supposed to represent the past. Like any emotions you’ve been feeling, any motivators for your current predicament. You might know of it, you might not. So, like, this is kinda like review… or insight.” He licks his lips. “So. Like I said, the higher spirits have spoken to me, and uh… they told me that your current job is really strict. Like, super rigid. And, uh, that you were okay with it, maybe? Or like, you dealt with it, but you’re probably starting to feel the suffocation now.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened a little. Jeongguk inwardly sighs in relief. So far, he seems to have said the right thing.

He moves onto the next card, flipping over the one in the middle. Namjoon tracks the movement carefully, a small frown appearing on his face as he concentrates along. This time, the Knight of Wands (thank god for labels) greets them with his majestic stallion and spear in hand as he rides (?) past the sun behind him. He takes his time trying to figure out the next piece of his made-up puzzle, Namjoon quietly watching throughout.

Jeongguk taps the card and turns it so that it’s facing Namjoon. “So, this is the Knight of Wands. It represents your present—an action you have to take in order to arrive at your future. Uh, so the knight is usually a symbol for a quest, so this card means you have to venture past your comfort zones and… I guess go on an adventure. I mean, it’s not a guess. The higher spirits said so. Yeah, you definitely have to do something bold.

“And this last one,” Jeongguk continues, not letting Namjoon comment since he’d probably question Jeongguk’s uncertainty, “should represent your future. Uh, Namjoon-ssi, would you like to reveal it yourself?”

“Sure,” Namjoon complies as he reaches out for the card. He grabs hold on one corner and flips it so that the image is uncovered, and there’s nothing on it but the fucking sun, so Jeongguk just looks up and stares at Namjoon before blurting, “Global warming.”

Namjoon furrows his eyebrows and tilts his (cute, heart-shaped) head. “I’m sorry?”

“Um,” Jeongguk says, smiling weakly. “You’re gonna save the environment?”

There’s silence for a while, one that’s spent in two different manners: Jeongguk, filled with nerves as he waits for Namjoon to call him a fraud, and Namjoon, staring at him with a frown on his face and an open mouth and bewilderment in his eyes. He mentally calls for Seokjin, cursing him for not writing up a more serious contract. Because in just a few minutes, Jeongguk’s sure they’re going to get sued, and then he’ll lose his job, and then he’ll have no way of paying for college or the loans he’s accumulated to attend said university. Or even worse, they’ll end up in jail. Preferably, Yoongi and Seokjin will end up in jail while Jeongguk just ends up dirt poor. Unless jail gets him out of paying off his student loans. Then maybe prison is the better choice.

He waits, teeth biting onto his lower lip, when suddenly Namjoon releases a breath neither of them knew he’d been holding. The man looks highly alarmed and conflicted, both disbelief and awe running through his gaze. Jeongguk doesn’t know if that’s good or bad—he’ll assume it’s good, considering Namjoon hasn’t sued him yet.

Namjoon seems to sober up because he puts on a smile—hesitant, confused, and a little wary, too. “Thank you for the Reading, Jeongguk-ssi. It was a pleasant experience.”

Relief floods Jeongguk’s bones as he relaxes in his seat. Somewhere behind him, he hears the door to the back room softly open. “I’m glad. If you have further questions, feel free to come back.”

There’s something in Namjoon’s eyes that says he probably won’t, but he’s polite about it. He stands as he nods at Seokjin, who has apparently made himself known behind the counter again, and heads towards the door. “Have a nice afternoon.”

He disappears behind the bead-curtain-thing, and Jeongguk sighs deeply. Seokjin eyes him with a cautious glance.

“It went well?” he asks, and Jeongguk stares at the cards on the table.

“I think so,” Jeongguk reassures, smiling a little. “We’re not getting sued, that’s for sure.”

“Good. Now help me wake Yoongi up? He has an appointment in, like, two minutes.”

Jeongguk laughs, standing as he makes his way to the back room. “Sure, hyung.”

They don’t expect to see Namjoon again; after his first reading, he seemed rather skeptical about the whole ordeal, even more firm in his belief that clairvoyance does not exist. So, it comes as a surprise when he walks into the shop a week later, eyes wide and hair tossed from the heavy winds outside. He’s also alone—Taehyung’s nowhere to be seen, and Jeongguk finds it even more shocking to learn that Namjoon came on his own volition. Maybe he did something right before. Maybe he was convincing enough.

What he does not expect is to be right.

“I’m sorry?” he asks, frowning a little.

“How did you do it?” Namjoon repeats a little wildly, and even Seokjin finds his craze a little daunting. “You literally told me to quit my modelling job and go for the environmental engineering degree I’ve always wanted, and then the next thing I know, I see ads for environmental engineering university courses fucking everywhere. Like—how?”

“Uh,” Jeongguk says dumbly, and Seokjin elbows him in the side. He hisses in pain. “I mean, the higher spirits told me.”

Seokjin nods. “As Taehyung has said, we’re good at what we do.”

Namjoon squints his eyes. “I want another Reading.”

Jeongguk blinks.

Seokjin, on the other hand, merely beams. “Fantastic! Same procedure: you’ll have to sign a contract before Jeongguk will read your cards. There’s also the non-refundable, fifteen-thousand-won fee.”

“Sure,” Namjoon agrees, and then slaps the amount on the table. Seokjin lifts it up to the light to inspect it as per their process, then slips it into the cash box to keep.

He grins at Namjoon and nods at Jeongguk. “He’s all yours.”

Jeongguk stares at the taller man as he tries to process everything that’s just happened in the past two minutes or so. He’s still kind of struck by the turn of events when he sits down, even more alarmed when Namjoon just blurts out his question without much prompting. His brows furrow as he tries to make sense of the question Namjoon posed. “I’m sorry?”

“The new burger place in Mapo-gu,” Namjoon explains a little impatiently. “There are always long lines, and they run out quickly. I need to know how I can make sure I get a burger.”

Well, it’s an interesting inquiry—a stark difference from the deep, life-changing question he sought last week. Jeongguk thinks it makes Namjoon a little more charming; the duality has him blushing as a small smile forms on his face, the word cute chanting in his head. He thinks he hears Yoongi snort in the background (when did he get here?), but he chooses to ignore it.

“I’ll need a question, Namjoon-ssi.”

Namjoon drums his fingers. “How do I get a No Brand Burger?”

The process begins again: Jeongguk shuffles the deck (still as clumsily, but now because he’s a little distracted by how adorable Namjoon is when he’s so focused on the way Jeongguk’s shuffling), and then he prompts Namjoon to select three different cards. Again, Namjoon doesn’t seem to care much for his choices, but he does pause before deciding on the last one. His hand turns the opposite direction and chooses a card from the other end.

Jeongguk sweeps the table clear of the remaining cards and turns over the first of the three Namjoon chose with expertise. “So, to recap, this card represents the past—any emotions or motivators that led you to your current predicament, and they can be known or unknown to you.”

“Yes, I remember that,” Namjoon tells him hurriedly, and Jeongguk smiles a little wider.

“Right, so, uh,” he says and glances down at the card, sighing in relief when it’s something a little easier than the ones Namjoon pulled last week. He taps on it, pauses a little to let the “spirits talk to him,” and then nods. “This card. It’s called the Eight of Cups,” he informs, as though Namjoon couldn’t read the label himself, “and there are eight cups on the card.”

Namjoon stares blankly at him. Behind him, Seokjin sighs.

“And well, these are cups.”

Yoongi snorts. “No shit, Sherlock.”

Jeongguk ignores him. “Which is something you use at restaurants. To drink. And since there are eight of them, that means a lot of people are drinking. So basically, the spirits are telling me you want a burger because it’s super popular right now.”

“Yeah,” Namjoon agrees. “Kind of.”

“Okay,” Jeongguk continues. “Uh, the second card should represent an action you have to take in the present to reach your future.” He flips the middle card too and is met with the Two of Cups. They all stare at it, anticipating what’ll come out of Jeongguk’s mouth next. “So, again, there are cups on this card. But there’s only two. So, it’s saying to bring a friend with when you go out? But you see that twisting object above it?”

“You mean the Caduceus of Hermes?” Namjoon asks, and Jeongguk nods.

“Yes, that.” What the fuck does that mean? He glances at Seokjin and Yoongi from the corner of his eyes, but they merely shrugged, unhelpful as ever. Great. He fixes Namjoon a smile. Maybe Namjoon would know—he seems smart. “Which means?”

Namjoon looks at the card. “Uh, I don’t know what it means in this context, but in Greek mythology, Hermes is the Messenger God, so trade, travellers and whatnot fall underneath him.”

Oh, so he does know. Jeongguk blushes deeply again. That’s hot.

“Trade! Exactly,” he agrees, smiling widely despite the red blooming on his cheeks. He averts his eyes from Namjoon’s face and trains his gaze on the wall just behind the man’s head. “The higher spirits highly recommend you trade places with the friend you’re taking with you while you’re in line.”

“Does it matter when I do?” Namjoon asks earnestly, and Jeongguk pauses to study the card again.

In the end, he decides, “No, I don’t think so.”

Namjoon just nods, and Jeongguk moves on to the final card. He allows Namjoon to reveal that card himself, similar to the last time—and when he does, it’s not from the cup set. There’s something akin to panic scrambling inside of him as he realises he can’t just count the items in the image again, because this time, the Queen of Wands is staring at them as she sits regally on her throne, long cape flowing downwards onto the floor beneath her. From the corner of his eye he can see Seokjin and Yoongi leaning forward in anticipation for his Reading, which Jeongguk doesn’t have yet.

But that’s fine because the higher spirits are supposedly talking to him right now, even though the only conversation he’s having is with himself. Namjoon seems patient enough, trusting that Jeongguk is allowing whatever psychic connection he has to properly manifest, and Jeongguk decides that last time, he managed to actually do well by winging things, so.

He opens his mouth and allows whatever to tumble out. “So, you know how in chess—”

“What the fuck does chess have to do with this?” Yoongi asks at the same time Seokjin burst into something that’s half-cough, half-laugh. Jeongguk hopes he chokes.

“—the queen is the most powerful, uh chess piece?” Namjoon nods. “You’re going to be that. A queen.”

“Um,” Namjoon says unsurely. “What does that mean?”

“Basically you’ll get the last burger,” Jeongguk translates, and Yoongi whistles as his bold Reading.

“I see.” Namjoon studies the Queen of Wands a little longer, then smiles up at Jeongguk. This time, his dimples seem a little deeper and his eyes are a little brighter. Jeongguk tries not to melt.  “Thank you again for the Reading, Jeongguk-ssi.”

“For sure,” is the coolest response he can muster, and then Namjoon turns to leave after patting Jeongguk on the shoulder in deep gratitude. Jeongguk’s eyes follow Namjoon out the door and almost has half the mind to follow him until he rounds the corner, but Jimin walks in at that exact moment and gives him a funny look.

“What’s up with him?” he asks Seokjin and Yoongi, and Jeongguk glares at them to shut up.

They don’t, of course, and Jeongguk spends the rest of the afternoon under Jimin’s constant teasing. He doesn’t mind, though; out of it, he learns a little more about his strange client—that his name is Kim Namjoon, that he was born on September 12, 1994, that he was a former rising model until Jeongguk’s Reading somehow inspired him to quit and go to university. Jeongguk learns that Namjoon placed in the top one percent of all Korean students in high school, likes crabs, and has three bonsai trees named Jjin Jjin, Cherry and Ori.

He’s not the slightest bit endeared, nope.

“So, uh,” Jeongguk asks later, when he’s closing the shop with Jimin despite his hyung not being an employee of the establishment, “is, uh, Namjoon-ssi seeing anyone?”

Jimin smirks, laughing a little as he ruffles Jeongguk’s hair. Jeongguk lets him, hanging the small hope he has on a thread. The answer doesn’t disappoint. “Don’t worry, he’s very single, and very, very much gay.”

“Oh,” Jeongguk sighs a little breathlessly, and Jimin laughs again.

Namjoon comes back to the shop on a Wednesday, when Yoongi’s off and Seokjin’s visiting family. It’s one of those rare days that Jeongguk spends manning the shop alone—or, well, at least, as the only legal employee. Jimin’s currently flipping through a magazine behind the counter, sharing some sort of smoothie with Taehyung, who’s just had his last Reading. Jeongguk wonders if Taehyung will leave soon, but with Jimin around, he highly doubts it.

He sighs as he stares at the clock, watching the seconds pass by agonisingly slowly. Wednesday has always been a little stilted, with students rushing to start on their assignments two days before they’re due, and tourists finding more exciting things to explore than their random hole-in-the-wall shop. He’s probably only had two or three other customers aside from Taehyung, and even then, those customers had been regulars as well. The only new face was a friend Soobin had brought with him for his second follow-up, which went a considerably lot better with Yoongi gone. 

(There were at least no more mentions of human sacrifices; Jeongguk managed to convince Soobin that his recent score on his exam cleared away the bad energy surrounding him, causing his friends to be kinder to him, too. The friend Soobin brought with—Huening Kai, as he introduced—marvelled at how intricately detailed the Reading was and apologised for almost potentially sacrificing Soobin to the devil. Jeongguk wanted to tell the kid he shouldn’t apologise for something he’d never do, but Soobin was already reassuring Kai that it was fine and he has fixed it anyways.)

(They both left equally happy with their future, and Jeongguk’s only the slightest bit concerned for them.)

Taehyung stretches and declares he needs to pee, causing Jimin to stand and show him to the employee bathroom in the back. It’s at this exact moment that Namjoon decides to walk in, and Jeongguk finds himself turning red as Namjoon peeks his head from behind the curtain-bead-thing, a large hand pushing some of it aside to allow him a proper look around the room. When his eyes meet Jeongguk’s, a warm smile stretches the expanse of his face.

“Jeongguk-ssi!” he greets, moving until he’s right in front of the counter. Jeongguk stares at Namjoon from the other side, taking in the outfit he’s wearing today. His hair is styled up, and there’s a beaded necklace around his neck that accentuates his friendly nature. A dark-green, short, kimono-style thick overcoat sits on top of his plain white t-shirt, washed-out jeans emphasising the muscles on his legs. He wonders if he could bite them, then screams at himself for even thinking that far.

He forces himself to look back at Namjoon’s face, but even that’s too much because Namjoon’s eyes are literally gone, and instead he’s looking at an angel with bunched up cheeks and a round face. “H-Hi.”

Namjoon turns to look at the door. “I’ve brought a friend today. Is that okay?”

Jeongguk blinks, the news snapping him out of his stupor. Namjoon coming with Taehyung was something he expected. Namjoon showing up alone is something he’s beginning to normalise. But Namjoon inviting someone to their shop? It’s never even crossed his mind.

He scrambles for a response and nods cautiously. “Yeah, sure.”

“He doesn’t usually do Tarot Readings either,” Namjoon explains as a silhouette makes itself known behind the sheer curtain. “Mostly because he’s too afraid of the outcome. But he’s always wanted to try it, and so I’ve brought him to you.”

The guy walks through the curtain, and Jeongguk finds himself staring at the sun.

He blinks. “To us?”

“You’re good at what you do,” Namjoon clarifies, and Jeongguk turns to look at Namjoon in shock. He didn’t expect the elder to make claims that favourable, considering that only two Readings ago he’d been a non-believer. But Namjoon came back with praise and even a potential new customer, and Jeongguk assumes the results of the last Reading had probably turned out well.

He voices his thoughts as such, asking carefully and politely.

Namjoon’s mouth drops into a small O, lips curving into a somewhat satisfied look. His friend joins him then, eyes scanning the interior of the shop curiously. “Yeah, it actually went exactly as you said?”

“It did?” Jeongguk asks in surprise again. That wasn’t an answer he’d been expecting, really; the first Reading he did for Namjoon was admittedly really vague, which gave for a lot of leeway and interpretation, but the one he did last week was too accurate for it to be coincidence. Maybe Jeongguk did have some sort of psychic powers. Oh my god, he’s an actual superhero.

The guy next Namjoon laughs just as the back door opens to reveal Taehyung and Jimin again, most likely having just finished doing their business. He notices their hair is a little tousled and lips a little swollen, but Jeongguk doesn’t want to question what other extra activities they partook in whilst in the restroom. He doesn’t think he could ever pee feeling right if he knew.

“Ah, are you talking about the No Brand Burger incident?” the friend asks, and the name drop causes Taehyung to snap his head upwards as though called on.

“That reminds me!” Taehyung declares, and then jabs a finger onto Jeongguk’s chest. “Jeon fucking Jeongguk! Do you know what your fucking Reading costed me?”

The friend guffaws. “Taehyungie went with Joonie to No Brand Burger last weekend,” he explains. “They were in line and everything when Joonie suddenly asks to switch spots ‘for science,’ and the next thing you know Joonie’s holding a burger while Taehyung gets a, ‘I’m sorry, we’re all out.’ ”

“I could’ve gotten a fucking burger,” Taehyung seethes, glaring at Jeongguk. “If Joonie-hyung and I hadn’t switched places, that burger would’ve been mine.”

“I gave it to you in the end, though,” Namjoon reminds gently, and Taehyung snorts.

“You gave me the one you didn’t like,” Taehyung sneers. He turns to Jimin. “He bought two different kinds and gave me the less delicious one. I’m the burger fanatic, what the hell?”

Jimin coos and pats his cheek. “We can go this Friday after your lecture.”

Taehyung pouts but accepts the offer, sliding into the barstool that sits next to Jeongguk, who isn’t quite sure how to respond. He settles with a cough to clear his throat and turns to address Namjoon’s friend, wearing his polite smile and I’m-all-about-business face.

He laces his fingers across the counter for dramatic effect, just as Seokjin taught him. “So, you’re Namjoon-ssi’s friend?”

“Jung Hoseok,” the friend introduces. There’s no level of shyness there, just an open friendliness that’s welcoming and inviting. Jeongguk’s almost tempted to just redirect this Hoseok guy to the Reading table but reminds himself there’s a reason a procedure was put in place. 

So instead, he simply nods at the introduction, smiling lightly. “And you’d like to have your future Read?”

“Only if it’s good,” Hoseok jokes, but Jeongguk thinks there’s some honesty hidden in there.

He makes a mental note not to be too harsh on the guy. “So, I don’t know if Namjoon-ssi told you this, but there’s a non-refundable, fifteen-thousand-won fee you’ll be required to pay before we start.”

“Yeah, he told me that,” Hoseok reassures, sliding out the bill. Jeongguk takes it while thanking him, then holds it to the side. Jimin simply stares at him as though he’s grown a second head, but Jeongguk only pushes the bill towards the blond, trying to telepathically transmit Help me out here and play along, please. After a very dramatic eye roll, Jimin follows procedure and holds the bill to the light, but he doesn’t take the validity check very seriously and simply hands the bill back a second later. Jeongguk takes it and pops it into the cash box. Meh, good enough.

“Before we start, we have a questionnaire we’d like you to fill out.”

“A questionnaire?” It’s Namjoon who asks with a furrow to his brows, and Jeongguk freezes, realising the process has always been a little bit different for Namjoon. Being a non-believer from the start, it was never a concern to test for his gullibility more than it was on the probability that he’d sue. So a “contract” was the route they went. Hoseok, on the other hand, will likely walk the usual path.

But Jeongguk can’t tell Namjoon that, can’t reveal that the questionnaire is the cushion they use to test for how much they’re allowed to bullshit a person’s reading, not when Namjoon already thinks somewhat positively of them. So he panics, glancing at Jimin for guidance, but much like Seokjin and Yoongi, he’s completely useless. He decides to lie with, “It’s a new process.”

“Wait,” Taehyung calls out, but Jimin pinches him before Taehyung could point out that they ran him through said process before.

Hoseok watches the ordeal with a little bit of confusion, but he settles on agreeing to fill out the forms, and Jeongguk moves to the back to retrieve the copies they have printed out. He lays the three pages across the counter and glances over at Namjoon. It’ll be bad if he sees the questions.

“Do you mind if you wait at the Reading table for Hoseok-ssi to finish up?” Jeongguk asks shyly, nodding at the cushions to his right. “The questionnaire is, uh, our way of testing the higher spirits’ likelihood to reveal his future, so all answers must remain secret between the client and the Reader.”

“Oh,” Namjoon says, and then nods as though the explanation makes sense. “Sure.”

Hoseok takes his time filling out the questions, pausing every now and then to lean over the counter and whisper a few questions about what the paper’s asking. Jeongguk takes the time in between Hoseok’s inquiries to study Namjoon, admiring the way he can look so ethereal just sitting there on the orange cushion with AirPods plugged in and eyes closed.

For a moment, he can imagine himself walking up there and confessing right then, but when Namjoon opens his eyes and meets Jeongguk’s gaze, the bravery disappears. There’s just something in the way that Namjoon looks at him that makes Jeongguk’s heart race a thousand times faster, makes Jeongguk a coward and shy for liking someone so out of reach. He frowns, taking the paper from Hoseok who’s finally completed the form. There’s no actual way of testing Namjoon’s nonexistent interest in him, but he doubts the older man will see him anything beyond an amateur (but surprisingly talented) Reader. They’re not even friends yet.

He scans Hoseok’s answers quickly for any red flags. Maybe, he thinks as he files the questionnaire away, he could lie and tell Namjoon that he’s his one-and-only. But to do that Namjoon would have to pose the question first, and well. So far, Namjoon only seems to be interested in either philosophy or burgers.

Jeongguk guides Hoseok to the Reading table and sits across from him, diagonal from Namjoon. He shuffles the cards while he prompts with the usual question. “So, why are you here today, Hoseok-ssi?”

“I guess I’m just generally concerned?” Hoseok asks unsurely, glancing at Namjoon for guidance.

Taehyung, who Jeongguk honestly has forgotten is still here, shakes his head and plops onto the seat to Hoseok’s left, at the end of the table facing the counter and Jimin. He holds his face in the palms of his hands and props his elbows against the table. “You have to ask a specific question, hyung. Otherwise, it won’t work.”

“Um,” Hoseok begins.

“Take your time,” Jeongguk reassures, still shuffling.

Jimin decides he’s feeling left out and sits directly next to Jeongguk.

“What’s the best possible outcome for my future?” Hoseok finally asks. “I mean, like my life. What’s the best possible outcome?”

Jeongguk hums, dealing the cards. Hoseok’s question probably wasn’t specific enough for a traditional Tarot Reading practice, but the Magic Shop is neither traditional nor technically psychic Reading, so Jeongguk thinks it’s good enough. He waves a hand over the spread across the table and welcomes Hoseok to select three of his choice.

Unlike Namjoon, Hoseok takes great care in his selection. He ponders over each card, hand hovering over one only to pass along to another. The final set ends up being a little predictable: the present is chosen from the left-most cards, the past from the middle section, and the future from the right. Jeongguk doesn’t comment nor tells Hoseok as such, knowing the man will only then retract his cards and ask to choose new ones. (Probably another thing not allowed in the technical practice, but again. No one at the Magic Shop is really practising anything other than the art of conning.)

The usual explanation is given: the first card is to represent the past, any emotions or motivators that led to the predicament. Hoseok takes the information in stride, eyes never leaving the card Jeongguk has his finger on, as though he’s already severely desperate for the results to be shown. Jeongguk decides to show mercy and move on with the process and grabs hold of one corner, flipping it over instantly.

Three tall branches stick out from the ground painted onto the card, a lone man standing with his back turned towards the viewer and a single hand gripping onto one of the staves. The rest of the card looks relatively empty, and Jeongguk glances at the label to read what it is. Three of Wands. Um. Okay.

“You’ll have to give him a minute,” Namjoon whispers as Jeongguk thinks. He glances at Jeongguk quickly, as though wary of disturbing his connection with the higher spirits. Jeongguk has to hold back a smile at how sweet the gesture is, even though there are no fucking spirits to begin with. “He’s currently communicating with the higher spirits.”

“What’s that?” Hoseok whispers back rather loudly, and Namjoon shrugs.

“Not sure? But I think like psychic deities who control the future, or at least pass it along to people like Jeongguk-ssi.”

“What do they look like?”

“Ghosts? I don’t know, I’m not psychic.”

Jeongguk clears his throat. “So, I’ve received the message from the, uh, higher spirits.”

Hoseok leans forward. “What did they say?”

“The Three of Wands,” Jeongguk begins, searching his mind for a previous example Yoongi’s used before. Hoseok’s question is so vague Jeongguk could probably get away with anything, but he’s never personally drawn the first five cards of the wand set, so he’d rather stick to the textbook. And by textbook, he means Yoongi’s previous lies. “So, you know how there are, like, three branch-things sticking from the ground?”

“Ooh, I thought those were baby trees,” Taehyung quips, and Jeongguk shrugs.

“Either one works. But basically those represent foundation, or like, something you use to hold yourself up. Right now, though—or well, until now—there’s only three pillars, which makes you feel a little unstable. About your future.”

Jimin oohs at Jeongguk’s Reading, nodding at him impressively. Jeongguk is kind of offended.

“Okay,” Hoseok says, biting the inside of his cheek. It’s unclear if the card answers his past correctly; Hoseok seems uncomfortable, ready to flee. Jeongguk could either be one hundred percent accurate or completely off. “What about my present?”

“Your present,” Jeongguk continues, delving into the explanation again as he turns the middle card over to reveal Hoseok’s course of action. Ironically enough, it’s the Four of Wands.

Namjoon’s eyebrows shoot upwards at that, probably guessing where Jeongguk’s brain is going. Honestly, it isn’t very hard to figure out the pattern.

“Well, this is pretty simple; it might not be something you like to hear, since it’s kind of vague, but what you essentially have to do right now is to establish a fourth pillar. Something to stabilise you, bring you at peace. It could be anything, from new relationships to a new job. What you need is something for you to decide—or discover—for yourself.”

“I see,” Hoseok whispers, growing a little smaller.

Jeongguk feels Jimin pat him on the back. Okay, maybe he is doing a pretty good job. Maybe, he’ll actually end up reading the cards well, won’t need to fumble and scramble for a nice ending to the Reading so far.

But of course, Jeongguk speaks too soon, because as soon as Hoseok flips the final card over, Death greets them atop his horse, his flag waving in the sky as he comes to collect those at his door. And Jeongguk watches as Hoseok’s (and Taehyung’s and his own) face pale, fear already encasing every fibre in his bones.

He swallows, looking down at the card sadly. Now he understands why Yoongi pulled a satanic sacrifice out of the blue. There’s no way to interpret the card other than its literal meaning—death, the end of life, an eternal sleep. And in tangent to Hoseok’s question, the combination doesn’t make for a good ending.

Jeongguk reaches out and holds Hoseok’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

Hoseok chokes back a sob.

“No, that’s great!” Namjoon suddenly pipes, and four heads turn to him incredulously.

Hoseok frowns as he grunts at Namjoon, clearly offended. “What the hell, you actually want me to die?”

“What? No?” Namjoon points at the Death card. “That card literally means death, right?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk says lamely. He doesn’t know what it actually means, but that’s the definition they went for here at the Magic Shop.

“Well, then, you’re going to die.”

“Thank you,” Hoseok says.

Taehyung blanches. “Hyung, I don’t think you’re helping.”

“Oh my god,” Namjoon exasperates. “That’s not what I meant. Hobi. All life ends in death.”

Another stretch of silence engulfs them, four pairs of eyes staring at Namjoon still. Hoseok looks like he’s halfway to smacking his friend on the head.

“I think Hobi-hyung understands that, Joonie-hyung,” Jimin gently tells him, but Namjoon just shakes his head, set on explaining himself.

“No, I mean, all life ends in death.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Namjoon,” Hoseok interrupts. There’s a little bit of annoyance in his brow as he pulls his hand away from Jeongguk’s hold, the corners of his mouth pulling downwards. “Just say what you mean; I’m not in the mood for your riddles.”

There’s a sigh, but Namjoon relents. He leans back and casually smirks at his friend. (And Jeongguk finds himself blushing, skin tingling as he traces Namjoon’s lips with his eyes.) “Friend, if all life ends in death, doesn’t it mean that once you find stability, you’ll simply live well? Your question was what the best possible outcome to your life is. Well, the answer to that is death—the end to all life. Basically, you’re going to live your life to your intended end.”

Jeongguk’s mouth drops open at the same time Hoseok’s eyes widen in surprise. Even Jimin finds himself in shock, staring at Namjoon with a bit of awe. Belatedly, Jeongguk thinks Namjoon would make a good fit for the shop—they could work as a duo together, with Jeongguk “speaking with the higher deities” and Namjoon translating the logic behind the nonsense. And while they’re Reading, maybe they could even hold hands underneath the table, sneak around the small-ass back room the way Jimin and Taehyung do (even though, Jeongguk thinks bitterly, they don’t fucking work here), maybe take their lunch breaks together and kiss and stuff.

A little blush dances on his face as he lets his thoughts trail farther. His face is scrunched up weirdly enough that even Taehyung sends him a funny look.

Jimin raises a single brow but says nothing, turning to Namjoon instead. “Hyung, have you ever thought of working here?”

A tiny twinkle of laughter escapes Namjoon’s lungs, and Jeongguk finds himself smiling widely at the sound, tempted to follow along. Namjoon shakes his head and nods over at Jeongguk, his eyes fond and soft. “Nah. Besides, I think Jeongguk-ssi’s doing a great job already. He’s got some real talent.”

Jeongguk swells with pride. “Thank you.”

Beside him, Jimin snorts. “Yeah, everyone in this shop is real talented. Anyways, the Reading’s done, right?”

“Oh.” Jeongguk looks at the cards out in the open, at the illustrations that sparks both omnipresence and hope. He shrugs, packing it all away. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

“Oh, thank god,” Hoseok mumbles as he rises to stretch. There’s still some fear dancing on his expression, but for the most part he seems to have bought Namjoon’s reasoning. Jeongguk wonders if he could really convince Namjoon to join their little business, even if it’s on the side. He’d have to wait, though—first, he has to date Namjoon. He can’t be screwing up his chances before he even has one.

Jimin goes back to the counter as Taehyung moves towards the entrance to leave, waggling his eyebrows at Jimin who returns the action right back. There’s a little serenity as Hoseok finally stands and thanks Jeongguk for the Reading, and Namjoon tells his friend he’ll catch up to him soon. Jeongguk watches the exchange with curious eyes, wondering if Namjoon had another reason for the visit to begin with.

He doesn’t have to wait long to figure it out; Namjoon smiles, scratching the back of his head, shy and nervous at the same time. “To be honest, I actually didn’t believe you.”

“Huh?”

A little chuckle rumbles from Namjoon’s chest. “The whole psychic Reading thing. Like, the first time you Read my future, I thought you were bullshitting it.”

Technically, I was, Jeongguk thinks, but he doesn’t voice it aloud. As much as he likes Namjoon, he can’t expose their trade secrets to someone who’s not even a close friend yet. He shrugs nonchalantly instead. “Well, you didn’t really believe in the stuff in the first place.”

“True,” Namjoon agrees, chuckling again. “When you got it right I swore you rigged it somehow. Like, maybe one of your coworkers was a hacker or something and managed to pump out all those advertisements at me.”

“Yoongi-hyung and Seokjin-hyung as hackers?” Jeongguk snorts. “Seokjin-hyung still doesn’t understand how to post stories on Instagram. And Yoongi-hyung thinks that kind of stuff’s a waste.”

“I see that now. That you can’t be hackers, I mean.” He pauses. “I actually came the second time to prove you wrong.”

Jeongguk raises an eyebrow at this, finding himself somewhat surprised and amused. A small smile spread itself on his lips as he leans forward a little, watching the way Namjoon’s face moves with embarrassment. He’s cute—so cute, and Jeongguk is so, so endeared. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Namjoon laughs a little sheepishly. “Like, I tried to think of the stupidest scenario ever to see if that won’t come true, but it did. Still, even then I was a little sceptic.

“So I brought Hoseok. To see if maybe your Readings coming true was more like a weird coincidence happening to me, or if it’ll still be right if you Read someone else’s future.”

“Ah,” Jeongguk says quietly, but his eyebrows furrow a little at Namjoon’s implication of him accurately Reading Hoseok. Technically, he hadn’t really foreseen Hoseok’s future; schemes aside, his Reading wasn’t anything actually fortune-telling-like. It was more like an advice one might give to a friend, but given in a dramatic and ominous way with a friendly reminder that apparently everyone dies. But he’ll take what he gets; if Namjoon says it was a good Reading, he’ll take pride in it.

Namjoon hums, his smile turning soft. “Hoseok’s question was a little vague, but what you gave him was sound. He’s actually been feeling a little on edge, like he’s missing something.”

Okay, never mind—his Reading was actually fortune-telling-ish. What the fuck. Maybe he should look into being a proper shaman.

“You also told him that maybe he feels he’s lacking in relationships, and well. Hoseok has a lot of friends, but he’s only really friends with Taehyung, Jimin and I.” Namjoon’s eyes crinkle, and Jeongguk finds himself staring at them a little too deeply. “So it made sense, and I think I believe you now.”

“Thanks,” Jeongguk tells him, but he doesn’t know if that’s a good thing. He doesn’t bother thinking it over, though, and simply grins brightly. “So I’m assuming you’ll coming back often?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon promises. He stands as he gets ready to leave. There’s a pause in his movement as he studies Jeongguk, and suddenly his face is bursting with pink. “Besides, I kind of like the Reader.”

Jeongguk beams. “Yeah, we have pretty good Readers here. Like Taehyung said, we’re good at what we do.”

Namjoon laughs—a twinkling sound, deep but light at the same time. Jeongguk wants to listen to it forever. “That’s not exactly what I meant.” He turns to leave, offering Jeongguk (and Jimin, who Jeongguk forgot is watching them from behind the counter) with a little wave. “I’ll see you, Jeongguk-ssi, Jimin-ah.”

“Walk safely back,” Jeongguk bids at him, and Namjoon exits through the curtain-bead-thing, the bell of the front door chiming overhead.

Jimin regards him with a Look when Jeongguk moves to the counter.

“What?” he asks.

His hyung just rolls his eyes. “Idiots.”

Two weeks pass, and Jeongguk doesn’t see much of Namjoon. They’ve started hanging out, though, whenever Jeongguk happens to tag along on Jimin’s little friendly hangouts. He’s always a little uncomfortable around new people, but he knows Taehyung and recognises Hoseok, so the get-togethers usually end up more or less okay. Plus, Namjoon’s presence calms him somehow. There’s something comforting about Kim Namjoon, even when all he’s doing is standing there and smiling at nothing.

Seokjin returns to the shop after three weeks of absence, and Yoongi mumbles a finally under his breath. It’s been rough, having to turn away customers because one of them had to be behind the counter at all times, meaning that they couldn’t do two Readings at the same time. With Seokjin around, things get a little easier, and Jeongguk doesn’t have to close the shop everyday.

“When are you going to buy us lamb skewers, hyung?” Jeongguk asks as he leans against the wall beneath the posters; this time, he’s lounging right by the illustration depicting the Wheel of Fortune card—a circle thing drawn in the middle with a sphinx sitting on top. It’s the only friendly tarot card poster they have hanging on the wall—appropriately right next to the Death and the Hanged Man.

Yoongi licks a thumb and continues counting last week’s earnings for a while. He lifts his eyes only once and very briefly, gaze a little unfocused. “Next week.”

“That’s what you said last week,” Seokjin points out.

“That’s before you delayed my paycheck,” Yoongi counters. He continues counting again. “Give me my money and then we’ll talk about lamb skewers.”

“But what about me,” Jeongguk whines, pouting a little. To his left, he can hear the faint chimes of the front door opening, but no one bothers assuming their positions; it’s probably only Jimin. He usually comes around at this time to raid the mini-fridge they keep in the back room, even though the tattoo parlour he works at probably holds more alcohol than they do. Jeongguk, Yoongi and Seokjin are all heavy drinkers, but Jimin and his coworkers are borderline alcoholics. “I don’t owe you a paycheck, hyung.”

“Can’t get you lamb skewers if Jinnie-hyung doesn’t pay me.”

“Finish counting then,” Seokjin instructs with a roll of his eyes. “So I can log the data and then give you your stupid money.”

There’s a cough, and Jeongguk looks to his left to find Namjoon standing there in between the beads and curtain, a single hand pushing the material aside. His face holds uncertainty as he shifts his weight from foot to foot, pondering over a question in his mind. “Hey. Is this a bad time?”

Jeongguk answers for them all, jumping to his feet. “Not at all!” he tells him a little too loudly and winces. Maybe he’s too enthusiastic, if Seokjin’s amused smirk and Yoongi’s raised eyebrow is anything to go by.

It’s okay because Namjoon seems to like the excitement in his voice, and he laughs nice and hearty, eyes prettily curling into crescents. He steps into the shop and nods at the Reading table. “Can I get a Reading, then?”

“Oh, sure,” Jeongguk says, turning to look at Yoongi. The older man holds out his hand, and Namjoon hands over fifteen won like routine. He then moves to the Reading table without needing to be guided, and Jeongguk’s heart is somehow giddy at the action—it’s like Namjoon belongs here in this little shop with them, except he’s still the customer that’s getting duped by three evil men. Jeongguk still feels guilty about it, but he promises he’ll tell Namjoon soon. Eventually.

“One million five hundred thousand,” Yoongi declares suddenly, throwing the last week’s earnings back into the cash box. He pauses and then stares at it before taking out a portion. “Make that nine hundred thousand; I’m taking my share.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes but logs the numbers into the tablet he’s holding. Meanwhile, Jeongguk just moves towards the Reading table with an iced Americano in hand. He hands that over to Namjoon, who thanks him for the free drink. It’s not favouritism, nope. “Come back with lamb skewers,” Seokjin instructs as Yoongi turns to leave—probably to deposit the money after the long delay.

“You still owe me my last paycheck!” Yoongi yells back, walking through the bead-curtain-thing and disappearing completely. He doesn’t promise to come back with food, but Jeongguk has a feeling he will.

He turns his attention to Namjoon, grinning widely. “So, should we start?”

“Sure,” Namjoon agrees, but he doesn’t offer Jeongguk the question he’s come to ask. Jeongguk doesn’t press him, though, knowing Namjoon will share when he’s ready to, but he does study the man’s face carefully, drinking in the different shifts in his expression and the slow change in colour. There’s a crimson hue that paints Namjoon’s cheeks, and his averted gaze seems shy, nervous, scared. Jeongguk wonders what kind of question’s hiding in Namjoon’s brain to have him feel all those emotions at once.

In the silence, Seokjin disappears into the back; there’s a sound of clanging, presumably from the little kitchen they have in the back room. Now, there’s only the two of them in the main area of the shop, and this isolation seems to give Namjoon the burst of confidence he needs. He glances up at Jeongguk and softly mumbles, “Who’s the person I’m destined to be with?”

Oh. Jeongguk’s heart thunders in his chest as he lets the question process in his head. It’s obvious that Namjoon likes someone; Jeongguk can’t think of a reason he would pose such a question if romance wasn’t something that interested him at the moment. A part of him hopes that he’s the reason for Namjoon’s curiosity in his destined partner, but the other part of him knows there’s a possibility—a high one—that Namjoon’s crush is someone else. After all, Jeongguk has only begun to know Namjoon; there might be other friends, other guys he’s had yet to meet, someone Namjoon’s starting to see in a romantic light.

But still, he hopes. So he shuffles the card after nodding at Namjoon’s question in acknowledgement, then spreads them routinely across the table. Namjoon again doesn’t have to be asked to pick three cards, but he does think over his actions carefully. Jeongguk’s teeth meet his bottom lip as he waits; this time, Namjoon is serious about the outcome of his choices.

Three cards are separated from the line, and Jeongguk removes the remainders from the table, leaving the three alone. 

He flips the first one and is met with the image of a woman and a man and a heart-shaped apple in between them. Quickly, he makes a mental note to ask Yoongi to find cards that were a lot more gay. “So, this is the Lovers card. The meaning is fairly simple: you’ve developed feelings for someone recently and want to start a relationship with them.”

Namjoon hums affirmatively, and Jeongguk thinks he’s going to be sick. He supposes he could technically just tell Namjoon that the higher spirits told him his destined partner is Jeongguk himself, but that’s kind of cheating, and Jeongguk would only feel bad for tricking Namjoon. Well, he’s kind of already been doing that for a while, but this is different—Namjoon’s genuine feelings are involved now, and Jeongguk doesn’t want to be selfish and make Namjoon date him just because he technically told him to. It’s cruel and beyond his moral conduct, and so Jeongguk just simply flips the next card, hoping the nonexistent higher beings will favour them today.

“The Four of Swords,” Jeongguk reads, pressing his lips together. He studies the image for a while, trying to come up with something meaningful. There’s obviously four swords in the picture, three of them hanging next to an archway while one sits on the floor. He doesn’t know how to connect swords to love—should he tell Namjoon he’ll have to fight someone for his crush? Or maybe the swords could represent how many people he’ll have to compete with to win the affections of whoever he is.

But Jeongguk doesn’t say that—instead, what comes out of his mouth is, “The swords in this picture doesn’t mean anything.”

Namjoon scrunches his brows. “Huh? How come?”

Jeongguk shrugs, tries not to panic at the way his mouth speaks faster than he thinks, and mentally skims through his encyclopedia of Shit Min Yoongi Says. “The higher spirits didn’t feel like it.”

“Oh.” Namjoon looks at the card. “Then what does this mean?”

“Door,” Jeongguk invents quickly. He points at the archway. “It means your crush will walk through a door, and then you’ll have to ask him out.”

“Okay. But, uh, which door?”

“Good question. Let’s look at the next card. The connection’s fuzzy; I’m going to need better reception.” He flips the card before Namjoon could ask what he means. This time, Namjoon’s managed to draw the Moon card—a tarot revealing two wolves howling at the moon in the middle of the plains, a river softly streaming into a pond below. Jeongguk kind of wants to groan and ask Namjoon why he’d have to pick such difficult cards today. “Okay, this one is the Moon, which is your future.”

“Yep.”

“And the wolves represent mates—so, like, in the future, you’ll be with your crush forever, since wolves mate for life,” he concludes.

Namjoon smiles. “Actually, they don’t.”

Jeongguk blinks. “Oh. That’s sad.”

A laugh bursts from Namjoon as he leans back, bringing the Americano to his lips. Jeongguk watches his throat as Namjoon swallows the liquid, drawing patterns with his eyes, and finds the corners of his lips curling upwards. “I’m sure the higher spirits know, though. They probably meant figuratively.”

“Yeah, probably,” Jeongguk agrees softly. He turns back to the middle card. There’s still the question of which door he’s referring to—he could be vague and say “the door to a restaurant” and leave it at that, but that kind of defines the person Namjoon’s meant to love, and Jeongguk wants to give Namjoon that liberty himself. He glances up at the clock and watches as the seconds lead the minute hand closer to twelve. Jimin should be coming by soon—and with Jeongguk’s luck, he’ll walk right through the bead-curtain-thing and notice Namjoon’s presence.

An idea pops into his head, one that’ll answer Namjoon’s question and gives him the freedom to choose who he’ll date, and he grins, knowing the right answer. He nods at the archway that leads into the shop’s main area and claps. “Aha! So, that’s the door the higher spirits were talking about. And they’ll walk through soon.”

Something in Namjoon’s face deflates. “Ah, I see.”

“But it won’t exactly be the person you’re fated to be with,” Jeongguk continues—slowly this time, so his mouth won’t outrun his thoughts. He pauses for effect as Namjoon leans forward a little, dire curiosity burning in his eyes. “No, the next person to walk through that curtain-bead-thing will tell you the name of the man you’re destined to love.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen. “Wow, okay.”

“Yeah.” Jeongguk grins. He glances at the clock; Jimin should come any moment now. Ideally, he’ll go and call Namjoon’s name, mention his surprise at seeing him at the shop. That’s the desired outcome, and it’ll give Namjoon a Reading that essentially allows him to love who he loves. And Jeongguk won’t feel guilty when he ultimately asks Namjoon out, because he wouldn’t have influenced Namjoon’s choices in any way.

Except, of course, it doesn’t go Jeongguk’s way. Because the next person who walks through the bead-curtain-thing isn’t Jimin—it’s fucking Min Yoongi with his bag of lamb skewers that were due three fucking weeks ago. And Jeongguk hopes that Yoongi will at least keep his mouth shut until Jimin comes over, but of course, that’s not what he gets.

What he does get is Yoongi moving to the counter to unpack the food he brought and saying, without his eyes ever leaving the food once, “Are you done Reading, Jeongguk-ah? We should eat together. Namjoon-ah, you eat with us too.”

And Jeongguk freezes the same time Namjoon’s mouth drops. They stare at each other for a while, faces blank of anything other than shock, and Jeongguk doesn’t know if he’s supposed to be upset or ecstatic. On the one hand, he basically did the exact thing he said he didn’t want to do—he’d made Namjoon believe he and Jeongguk were destined to be together, meaning that if Namjoon had a crush on someone else, Jeongguk had led him to believe they weren’t meant to be, which means he’d successfully manipulated Namjoon’s emotions to cater to him. On the other hand, Jeongguk had just somehow, by some fucking sheer luck, told his crush that they were meant to be together.

He wants to scream.

“Oh my god,” Namjoon breathes, and Yoongi suddenly realises how quiet the room is.

“Are you guys not done?” he asks hesitantly, but neither of them bothers answering.

Instead, Namjoon’s face is suddenly engulfed by a grin, eyes disappearing completely as happiness radiates from his face. And Jeongguk feels so, so warm because he knows what that face means—that he did something right, that he’s given Namjoon the Reading he wanted to hear. Relief courses through him as he gives himself a pat on the back, but then freezes when he realises what the revelation actually meant.

He stares at Namjoon, who’s still grinning so, so widely, and watches his lips move. Jeongguk shakes his head, trying to catch the sound. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Be my boyfriend?” Namjoon repeats confidently, the blush on his cheeks ever-present. “I’ve liked you for a while now, Jeongguk-ah. Was just scared you didn’t feel the same way, but I think the higher spirits are telling me something else.”

“Oh my god,” Jeongguk breathes, and Yoongi’s jaw drops when he finally connects the dots he missed out on. Jeongguk hears his hyung vanish into the back to call for Seokjin, but right now, he’s too in shock to care.

Because somehow, Jeongguk had not only managed to feed Namjoon the confidence he needed to ask Jeongguk out, but he had also spoken the future into reality for the fourth fucking time. His mouth drops as he stares at Namjoon longer. Maybe he does have a psychic connection to some higher power, what the hell.

It dawns on him after a while that he still hasn’t responded, so he clears his throat and squeaks, “Shouldn’t we go on a date first?”

Namjoon laughs again—fondly, Jeongguk notes, and so full of affection. It makes him blush at the realisation that the sound is for him, that he is the cause of Namjoon’s lively, soft laughter, and it makes Jeongguk dizzy, teetering where he’s seated across from Namjoon at the Reading table. When Namjoon dies into small chuckles, his eyes fall a little to reveal the mirth in his eyes. And Jeongguk melts, his heartbeat speeding some more, fingers trembling slightly in his lap. “Fair enough. Are you free right now?”

The lamb skewers sitting on the counter call out to him, but Jeongguk ignores it in favour of sealing his fate. He smiles. “Yeah, I’m free.”

“Cool,” Namjoon says as he stands, and he reaches out to offer Jeongguk a hand. Jeongguk takes it, allowing Namjoon to pull him up and around so that they’re now standing on the same side, fingers tangled into each other in all the right places. Namjoon swings their joint hands between them and leads them to the door. “Lamb skewers?”

Jeongguk laughs. “Lamb skewers.”

(Later, maybe one and a half months after, Namjoon comes and visit the shop again for his fifth Reading and asks about a kiss. Jeongguk doesn’t bother Reading the cards and gives it to him—straight on the lips, right in front of Seokjin and Yoongi and Jimin and Taehyung and Hoseok, over the Reading table where all their destinies began.)

(And later, much later, Jeongguk finally tells Namjoon his secret.

“I’m not really psychic,” he admits quietly as he’s lying in his boyfriend’s bed naked.

Namjoon chokes on the water he’s brought into the room with him, spilling it over the blanket that drapes their bare bodies. He peers down at Jeongguk from where he’s sitting up. “What?”

“So—don’t get mad now but—Yoongi-hyung and I kinda bullshit everything we say. Like, there’s no higher spirits, and we know nothing about tarot cards, and we literally just say what we feel like saying when we see the weird pictures and stuff.”

“What?”

“Yeah, so, like, if you love me, please don’t sue us for fraud.”

“Wait—you mean I’ve been duped this whole year? Babe, what the hell?”)

(“How’d you get everything right then? From the environmental engineering degree to the burger and Hoseok’s advice and us dating?”

“Honestly, I still have no fucking idea.”)