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The row of stores by the city center station is wonderfully quaint. Colorful and painted bright pastels to grab a passer-by’s attention, terra-cotta shingles catching the sunlight on the roofs. Sweet, in the genuine way only small businesses can be.
There's an antique shop, with vintage pink princess phones in the window. A book binder’s outpost, the wooden sign hanging from the wrought iron posts shaped like an open tome. An independently owned crepe cafe and a boutique three stores down from that, the commercial district is any window-shopper’s dream.
And there's a new addition to the line of unique establishments, it seems. Hyunjin and Jeongin would know. They’re staring at it right now.
The pair walk through the road of shops every day, on their way back from school; it cuts right through the route to the main metro hub in city center, so taking the familiar path only makes sense. Right now their backpacks are slung between their shoulders, straps clutched in hand, as usual. They were halfway down the shopping row, on the way to the cozy cafe for some well deserved banana nutella crepes after a grueling day of classes, also as usual. But then they got hopelessly sidetracked, by the newcomer.
Not as usual.
“ ‘Prophe-Seungs’?” Hyunjin parroted the name of the shop, the sign freshly hung and intricately designed with vibrant pigment. It's shaped like a scroll, long and twisty and smudged dark brown around the edges in an attempt at faux-aging the paint. There’s a neon sign in the window, shaped like a crystal ball. Ghostly lilac in the light of day, with Fortune Telling written in fluorescence below.
“That's a crappy name.” He mumbled under his breath, idly kicking at a stray pebble by the toe of his sneakers.
The store is brand-spanking new; Hyunjin is only seeing it for the first time today. And he walked this same road with Jeongin two days ago— when what is now a fully functioning fortune telling practice was no more than four empty, austere plaster walls. A bright red For Sale sign hanging pretty in the window. Unoccupied, as it has been for months.
Since the bubble tea place that had previously been there moved down the street, the storefront had been left vacant. Until now.
The sign is relatively well designed, swooping font and bright color well employed to give off the “magical” feel Hyunjin assumes they were going for. Those psychics don't waste any time, it seems.
“It looks cool in there, doesn't it?” Jeongin piped up, from where he is planted next to Hyunjin. They're both standing on the sidewalk, gazing at the newly opened fortune shop. Jeongin’s eyes are wide and vaguely awestruck. Innocent. Hyunjin's are narrowed and hard. Skeptical. A hand held over his brows to block out the sun’s rays reflecting off the glass.
The door to the shop is open, allowing air exchange with the refreshing spring breeze. But with the glare of the sun bouncing off the window, Hyunjin can barely see a foot in front of him. Let alone see inside the outpost. Let alone deem it “cool”.
Hyunjin forced away the urge to smack Jeongin upside the head. So naive—so gullible.
“Psychic shops like this pop up every day! Palm reading, tea leaf reading, tarot—they're a dime a dozen! So no, it's not cool. They're all a scam, Jeongin. Can't you see that? It's all gimmicks! Playing on your malleable, ignorant little brain to squeeze your money from your wallet!” Hyunjin rambled, gesticulating wildly as he spoke with (possibly misplaced) conviction.
Hyunjin is about as skeptical as they come. He's cynical and jaded. Dubious of anything and everything supposedly not of this world. For something considered esoteric and pretantual, Hyunjin counters with an explanation rooted in science, and the mundane. An unexplained lighted craft zooming through the night sky? Hyunjin raises you a military drone. A flare, maybe. A blurry video of a seemingly stationary item being shoved off a table? Hyunjin retorts with good old fashioned faulty ventilation as the culprit. Or even faultier video trickery.
And fortune tellers, psychics and the like? Well, Hyunjin would've even dignify them with rationale based in the empirical.
There's nothing scientific about being a scam artist.
But maybe Hyunjin is being too general, with such a broad admonishment. He’ll get back to you on that. Hyunjin has bigger things to worry about, than if his pondering is verging on too cruel. A problem with a mop of choco brown hair, falling messily over the divots pinched in his forehead. A problem by the name of Yang Jeongin.
Jeongin pursed his lips, coupled with a scrunch of his brows. “ Is my brain malleable? I didn't know that.”
Hyunjin rolled his eyes, but continued undeterred. “Maybe if a psychic did something unique I would try it out. Like, I don't know, telling me my future based on how many times I blink in a day, or something.” He's being facetious. At least partly .
Jeongin hummed in acknowledgement, his eyes darting from the jewel tone sign, to Hyunjin, and then back up again. His eyes are so wide and shiny, Hyunjin didn’t have to strain under the sun blindness to see the kaleidoscopic sign mirrored within his pupils.
“You should go in! Get your palm read, or something.” Jeongin cheered. Cheered. He's gazing at Hyunjin expectantly, his lips stretched in a toothy grin. He's even bouncing on his heels, his excitement too palpable to contain. His backpack shimmied with each eager bounce, sending textbooks and spiral notebooks noisily flopping about beneath the zipper.
Hyunjin blinked, in complete disbelief. He blinked again, as if that would wake him from this foolishness. “Did you not hear what I just said? I just ranted about how I would never step foot in a psychic’s den of thievery. I ranted, Jeongin.” And rant he did. Jeongin heard every word; or at least pretended to.
Jeongin turned to him, eyes big and sparkling and strangely pleading. Definitely pretended to. Hyunjin narrowed his own peepers in patented skepticism, prepared for whatever verbal nonsense Jeongin is about to spew at him.
“You should go anyways! I bet it'd be great.”
And there you have it. Maybe Hyunjin should open his own fortune telling stall; he just predicted that little bout of madness with the utmost ease.
Hyunjin growled in frustration, and put his plans of opening a competing palmistry shop directly across from Prophe-Seungs on momentary hold.
“Why the hell would I do that?! Who would willingly let themself be scammed like that?” he huffed, throwing his arms up in exasperation. Jeongin is still staring at him with hope-filled eyes, and Hyunjin is now reminded of how tired he is. At nothing in particular. Just in general. He would love nothing more than to leave the shopping road, and crawl into bed for a few days. Maybe a few years.
“Um,” Jeongin pondered, jutting his lips into an exaggerated pout as he rubbed his chin. Hyunjin is familiar enough with that expression to know Jeongin is not thinking hard in the slightest. He’s not even thinking at all. Hyunjin is also well-acquainted enough with that devilish gleam in his friend’s eyes to know he should be very afraid.
“ You would?”
Hyunjin didn't even get a moment to ask what that could have meant.
Because with that, Jeongin grabbed two handfuls of Hyunjin’s hoodie, and all but flung him inside the open door of the fortune teller’s shop. The poor kid didn't even have a chance, as cracked pavement turned to polished mosaic tile, as the universe flipped upside down and inside out.
“J-jeongin!” Hyunjin squawked, once the world stopped spinning and the floor and ceiling are back in their rightful places.
He forced his vision to stop swaying, and when he gazed out the door again he saw a familiar sight; Yang Jeongin, doubled over in a fit of laughter. His friend is crumpled to a cackling heap on the sidewalk, slapping his knobby knee caps and howling for air.
Hyunjin scowled, and was about to prowl back out the door to give his “friend” what for. He was. When he felt a light tap on his shoulder.
His anger temporarily paused, Hyunjin turned to meet who was responsible for the gentle prod. He is met with a mop of ashen blonde hair, and a face still rounded with pads of baby fat.
“Hello there,” said a young boy, probably no younger than Hyunjin himself. His voice is gentle and pleasant to the ear. Like a song. “Welcome to Prophe-Seungs. My name is Seungmin, would you like me to tell you your future?”
Hyunjin blinked, his Jeongin-induced rage (and dizziness) subsiding into something more akin to vexation. Hyunjin is, suddenly, horribly confused.
This kid is a fortune teller?! He's just that—a kid! Can just anyone pretend to have mystical powers and secure a business license nowadays?! Hyunjin expected someone at least twice his age, someone mock-wizened with a store-bought crystal staff and a thick white beard in the guise of an oracle. Someone with bony fingers gnarled by the march of time. Not a teen who looks fresh out of highschool.
He's not even wearing what Hyunjin expected of a fortune shop proprietor! He's just got on a pale blue oversized hoodie and skinny jeans! Chunky sneakers and ankle socks with bananas printed on the cuffs! There's no mystical plastic staff or theatrical feather ruff around his neck. He's completely, utterly normal.
He expected an exotic hat atop his head or a royal purple cape, dragging across the floor and embroidered with golden stars. Yes, a number straight from a big-box store halloween costume. Hyunjin at least wanted a good old fashioned party-store wizard cloak. A pointy wizard hat, something! He's disappointed.
Well this is just great! Not only did Jeongin give Hyunjin a severe case of whiplash (seriously, when did the kid get so damn strong?!), but now Hyunjin is cornered by the scammer in innocent-boy’s clothing himself. Literal innocent-boy's clothing. That oversized blue hoodie makes him look fresh from elementary school, with how it devours his lanky frame whole.
He's got nowhere to go, under the piercing and equally expectant gaze of the fortune teller. Jeongin really owes Hyunjin for this, big time.
But what did he say his name is, again? Oh, right. Seungmin. At least now Hyunjin understands the origins of the shop’s title. Maybe the name isn't as ill thought out as he previously deemed it.
“I, um,” Hyunjin stammered, his eyes darting around the store as he fumbled for an excuse. His brain is speeding a mile a minute, grasping at abstract straws and trying to piece a coherent means of escape together. His eyes continued to flit about the shop, his widened gaze bordering on desperate.
But he has to admit, the store itself is pretty nice. The walls are painted with a fresh coat of fawn tan, smoothed so not even a stray fissure is visible in the plaster. A similar shade to the feathery strands of Seungmin’s hair. Ferns and ficus and towering displays of succulents are nestled in the corners, and adjacent to the bay window in the storefront. Wide green fronds, notched and suspended from thick stems like stagnant, verdant kites in the air. Prints of astrological bodies and zodiac critters hang on the walls, in intricately carved golden frames. A bull rears back in one, stylized and majestic. Two whiskered koi oppose one another on the opposite wall, an oceanic face off of the ages. Across is a pencil sketch of a ram’s head, a third eye wide open in its forehead.
The floor is made of inlaid mosaic tiles, rich jewel tones that have the vibrancy of sugar candy. Mediterranean in style, painted with kiln-faded acrylics of lions and sheep and deer. Flowers and trees, under the soles of Hyunjin’s shoes.
Beaded talismans of the all-seeing-eye hang from the rafters, pearlescent blue irises staring down at them from above. Tapestries with swords and disembodied hands hang behind a two-person table, set up by the back wall. It's glass; glass legs and a polished glass surface. Not a smudge to be seen. Pushed under the table are two matching, plush velvet chairs. Empty. Maybe not for long.
The shop is artfully bohemian, and somehow avoids traipsing into full-on pretentiousness. Or headache inducing. Although, the incense burning at a makeshift shrine by the door is making Hyunjin’s nose twitch. But overall, the establishment is well appointed. So well appointed, that Hyunjin can't wrap his head around it all being set up so perfectly in the two days since the shop must have opened.
Which reminds Hyunjin:
Seungmin, the owner of said fortune shop, is still before him. Still staring at him with soft, unreadable eyes. Still smiling at him, small and demure and barely a quirk at the corner of his lips. But still there. Still a smile all the same.
He's still expecting Hyunjin’s answer.
No, he almost said, if his brutal honesty got the best of him. My friend is an asshole, and shoved me in here against my will. He would have said it, truly. He would have. But—
But Seungmin is a kid. He's young, undoubtedly younger than Hyunjin, now that he’s had more opportunity to unpack his tender features. He's probably just as broke as Hyunjin as well, and trying to make a living.
It's a harsh world we live in. Hyunjin suddenly can't blame him for becoming a professional scam artist.
“ Alright,” Hyunjin huffed, acquiescing with much less shame than he would've expected. To think, Hyunjin just agreed to get his fortune read? Stop the presses—there's no way stranger things have happened.
But Seungmin’s previously subdued expression instantly broke. His lips bloomed into a cheek splitting grin, his eyes hidden with the force of the dopey grin. He clapped his hands together, as he exclaimed, “Wonderful! If you would just follow me this way,”
“Hyunjin.”
Seungmin hummed, and ushered Hyunjin to trail him. “Just this way, Hyunjin.”
His name sounds pretty coming from Seungmin’s lips. Melodic, like a hymn.
Soon, Hyunjin found himself sitting opposite Seungmin at that shimmering glass table, pushed near the back wall. The velvet cushions are quite plush, he can't deny that. At least he'll be getting his money's worth in the “comfortable chair” department.
Which reminds him:
“How much is this, again?” Hyunjin doesn't even know what this is. Yes, he has no idea what Seungmin is gonna do. To him? For him? At him? He's at a loss, completely. He just hopes he has enough cash in his wallet to cover whatever it will be. He doesn't feel like getting the authorities called on him for a fortune-and-dash.
Seungmin held up a dainty hand, wordlessly. Five fingers splayed.
Hyunjin’s lips pursed, and he tilted his head. Is this part of the ritual, or whatever? he thought, befuddled. He needs me to high five him? Maybe to establish contact or something?
So with that, Hyunjin cautiously extended a palm of his own, and lightly tapped it against Seungmin’s. His hand is soft and warm, and Hyunjin has no idea why his brain decided to make that so apparent.
Seungmin barked out a laugh. Clear and loud, the booming chuckle shook the umbrella-sized leaves of the potted elephant-ear fern shoved into the back corner. “No, Hyunjin. I mean this costs five dollars.”
Oh , Hyunjin thought with a gulp. Great. He's been in Seungmin’s presence for less than ten minutes and he's already mortified. Already made a fool of himself before the guy about to scam him. Par for the course, Hwang.
Hyunjin blinked long and hard, willing the embarrassed flush off his cheeks. He coughed, clearing the humiliation from his voice. “T-that's fair,” he muttered, suddenly entranced on the intricately painted mosaic tiled beneath his feet. It's of a frog, with a gold crown atop its head.
And he can't deny it, the price is fair. More than fair, in fact. He fully expected Seungmin to gauge him hand over foot for this sham, so he has to say he's pleasantly surprised. For the sake of his wallet’s future, of course.
So with that, Hyunjin fished said wallet out of his back pocket, and plucked a crisp five dollar bill from the leather folds. He tossed it across the glass table top, at Seungmin. Casually. Nonchalant. Trying to save whatever cool guy scraps he has left after the high-five debacle.
Seungmin looked taken aback, but he tentatively reached for the bill nonetheless. “I don't need this now, Hyunjin.” he said, voice soft and innocent. Suddenly, he sounds like the teen—like the kid— he truly is.
Hyunjin waved away his sentiment with a flick of the wrist. “It's whatever. Just take it, and let's just get this over with.” he tried not to grumble, tried not to forcefully snuff out Seungmin’s excitement at a sale. He knows he's failing, though. Miserably. Hyunjin’s eyes are blank and dark and unimpressed, his lips pulled tight to match. He's about to willingly get his money swindled away from him. Hell, his money is already in Seungmin’s hand! Is he supposed to be overtly happy? At least I’m patronizing a small business, that’s what he’ll tell himself once he leaves the quaint shop.
Seungmin nodded, short and curt. As if sensing Hyunjin’s trepidation. He slid the bill into his pant's pocket, and subsequently steadied his shoulders. And then—
He did nothing.
Literally, nothing. He's just sitting there, across from Hyunjin. Doing nothing. He's not asking for his palm, or brewing a fresh pot of loose tea. He's not spreading a deck of tarot cards over the tabletop. There's no crystal ball in sight. The only crystal in the store is that of the table they're currently sitting at.
Hyunjin quirked a brow, his interest piqued. What is Seungmin doing?
“So what's gonna happen here, exactly? You'll show me a random Digimon card and tell me I'll die in seven days, or something?”
Despite the absence of any and all occult items (which, according to Hyunjin, includes children’s playing card games ) he asked anyways. To sate his ravenous curiosity, if nothing more.
Seungmin sent Hyunjin a perplexed look. “Um, no? That's not how fortune telling works. At least, that's not how I prophesize.”
Ah, there it is. Right on cue.
This is too rich. Hyunjin had to fight off the urge to double over in laughter. “Is that so? Do tell, Seungmin. How do you ‘ prophesize’?” He had to physically stop himself from rolling his eyes. Prophesizing? Really, Seungmin?
Seungmin's furrowed brows mellowed, his expression soon easing into an unreadable blank canvas. He leaned forward in his chair, closing in on Hyunjin from across the table.
“I look.”
For some reason, Hyunjin found himself gulping. He found his throat tightening and his heart fluttering in his chest. Suddenly, rather than warding off the laughter bubbling in his throat, Hyunjin did everything in his power not to shrink in his seat.
Because looking is exactly what Seungmin is doing. He’s gazing at Hyunjin with such intensity, such power, it's as if the boy is peering directly into his soul. Peeling it back layer by layer, until he strikes metaphoric paydirt within.
His eyes are hard and impossibly focused. Trained on nothing except Hwang Hyunjin.
His heart is beating like a hyperactive drummer and Hyunjin tried to ignore the warmth creeping up his neck. His skin is burning with prickling heat, chased down by a bout of icy chills. He feels small, under his gaze. Powerless. Seungmin never even blinked .
But as soon as it began, Seungmin's examination ended. His firm expression eased, as he relaxed into his chair once again. Now, a demure smile is playing onto his lips.
“I see.” is all he supplied, as if that is supposed to give Hyunjin any type of closure.
Hyunjin sputtered, jolting upright in his chair. The scrutiny he was just subjected to gave way to molten bashfulness, which has been swiftly replaced by indignant rage.
“See what?!” Hyunjin snapped—perhaps inadvertently—as he glared at Seungmin over the polished table.
Seungmin's lips quirked up at the corner. “Your future.”
Hyunjin snarled at the continual tirade of ambiguity. Seungmin's vagueness is bordering on infuriating, and Hyunjin is nearing his limit. He needs answers. Now.
“Which is…?” Hyunjin tried not to bark again, and kept the annoyance laced in his voice at bay. Each word is strained, wobbly under the sheer irritation tainting each syllable.
Seungmin’s smile never faltered, even in the face of Hyunjin’s peaking exasperation. He said, “You will fall in love in 24 hours.”
And with that, Hyunjin felt the world stop turning for a few terrifying seconds. He sat in stunned silence, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. Seungmin stayed equally mum, choosing to meet him with innocent, expectant eyes instead of elaborating.
That's it? That's all Seungmin could manage for a prediction?
Hyunjin should have expected as much; leave it to a typical scam artist to assign him the most general, low-maintenance future of all time. Of course Hyunjin will fall in love in 24 hours! Why wouldn't he! It's not like Seungmin said something specific, like the door to his house will malfunction and Kkami will turn loose and escape. Or that Hyunjin will get the solo he's always dreamed of for the upcoming recital at his dance school.
Nope. Hyunjin will “fall in love”. In 24 hours, the most bottom-of-the-barrel time frame imaginable. Not something specific, like three and a half weeks. Not a day and a quarter. 24 simple hours. General. It's a fortune that can apply to anybody, because to Seungmin poor old Hyunjin is just that: anybody. How predictable. It's laughable, in fact.
Which is exactly what Hyunjin took it upon himself to do. He doubled over, millimeters away from smacking his forehead on the edge of the crystal table top. He clutched at his sides, as wild cackles mixed with wheezing guffaws.
Hyunjin eventually righted himself, wiping away a stray tear from the corner of his eye, before addressing the supposed fortune teller again. At least he got his money’s worth in laughter. That counts for something.
“Well, Seungmin,” he began, each word airy and stretched like saltwater taffy from his giggle fit, “I guess we'll just have to see about that.”
Seungmin’s sweet little smile sharpened; becoming a wily smirk, until that too shifted back into the picture of perfect innocence.
“Yes, Hyunjin.” He mused, “We will see.”
Slightly cryptic, Hyunjin noted. But he consciously decided not to press Seungmin anymore. He's heard all he needs to. His money had been sufficiently wasted.
Hyunjin was about to sling his bag over his shoulder and high tail it out of there, when an idea struck him over the head.
“Seungmin, what’ll happen if your fortune doesn't come true?” Let’s see if he has an answer for this! Hyunjin thought, triumphantly. Take that, scammer!
Seungmin considered the question, before answering. “If you don't fall in love in 24 hours, you can come back here. I'll give you your money back.”
Hyunjin raised his brows at that proposition. Isn't Seungmin trying to run a sham business here? Offering refunds for something that is absolutely positively not going to happen seems like a poor strategy for economic growth. But that's a problem for Seungmin to handle. For Hyunjin? Getting his hard earned five dollars back sounds like music to his ears. Sure, it’s a menial sum in the grand scheme of things, but it’s the principle of the whole thing! The principle of his money being wasted, he tells you!
But with that, he scooped his bag back over his shoulder, turned on his heel, and strutted out of Prophe-Seungs. Without turning back, he sent Seungmin a noncommittal two finger salute.
“See you tomorrow, Seungmin.” He announced with the utmost assurity. Like a promise. To get my money back was left unsaid. He has a feeling Seungmin heard him loud and clear.
Seungmin didn't answer, but as he made his way from the shop Hyunjin swears he heard him giggle. Even though Seungmin was still sitting neatly at the glass table in the back of the store when Hyunjin left him, the good-natured laugh still made itself very much known. Strange.
Oh well—that ordeal is over with, and now what is Hyunjin faced with back on the street?
Yang Jeongin, sitting cross legged on the sidewalk. Parallel to the open door to the fortune shop, with his phone in his hand and trained on Hyunjin’s encroaching figure.
“And here we have the wild Hwang Hyunjin,” Jeongin wheezed, in an exaggerated and equally overdramatic faux-British accent. As if narrating a nature documentary, he continued. “It is quite the elusive species. Here, we see one as it leaves the den of the feared scam artist— the natural enemy of the Hwang Hyunjin.”
He's filming. A not-so short and not-so sweet video that will soon be sent to their group chat, undoubtedly. And plastered around Instagram too, soon thereafter.
Hyunjin snarled, and his hands balled into tight fists at his side. “Yang Jeongin!” he barked, startling a passing mother pushing a buggie down the street.
And as he stalked closer to Jeongin, Hyunjin does look the role of a predator. Or at least, something to be feared.
Hyunjin rushed over to his friend, who is currently stumbling to his feet in a poor attempt to escape Hyunjin’s clutches. He didn't get very far, with how he twisted his body around to keep filming as he ran.
“This specimen is quite aggressive!” Jeongin exclaimed, voice no less theatrical.
Hyunjin is closing in, as the two run down the relatively empty streets of the commercial district. Bobbing and weaving through students and shoppers alike, dodging mail boxes and fire hydrants as the chase progressed. Closer, closer—
“Jeongin!” Hyunjin roared, swiping a hand out and knocking his friends phone askew. “You owe me, for what you just put me through!”
Jeongin did nothing except laugh, and course-correct the placement of his phone in his hand. And keep running. And keep twisting awkwardly at the waist, to get every second of Hyunjin’s tantrum on tape.
Soon, Hyunjin’s snarl shifted. Became fuzzy around the curled edges of his lips. It slowly but surely became a smile of his own, goofy and boxy and gummy. Beaming with light, despite the setting of the sun overhead. Soon, Hyunjin found himself cackling as well, as he continued on Jeongin's tail.
He forgot about Seungmin, as his feet pounded the pavement. He forgot about the ethereal store and the equally ethereal boy who owns it.
He forgot about his fortune.
But not for long;
Time is ticking. He does only have 24 skimpy hours to fall in love, right?
Hyunjin just laughed harder. For no apparent reason, other than just because.
🔮
24 hours is nearing its close.
Hyunjin, suffice it to say, has not fallen in love. Not in the slightest.
He's the same old guy, through and through. Cupid seems to have missed the message; all his love-tipped arrows flew right over Hyunjin’s head.
Although, there is something Hyunjin can't deny.
He can't stop thinking about Seungmin, the fortune teller.
He can't stop picturing his eyes. How they stared at him during the “reading”, sparkling and with an intensity the likes of which Hyunjin’s never seen. How he felt the boy peering directly into his soul, dissecting it apart with surgical precision.
He can't stop thinking about his eyes, or his mouth, or the tall, elegant bridge of his nose. Hell, Hyunjin found himself imagining his head of pale beige hair for goodness sake! It makes no sense.
Dare Hyunjin say, there's no scientific explanation.
That morning, while he was brushing his teeth? He thought about Seungmin. As he tried to cram for his upcoming midterm? What a shocker, he was thinking about Seungmin. He even had a dream about the boy! Something hazy and idyllic and just gauzy enough for Hyunjin to remember him being there, but not remember him being there.
He awoke with Seungmin’s name on his tongue and whizzing about his head like firecrackers. But he doesn't know why . What brought it on so suddenly, what could have induced such an invasion of thoughts pertaining to the fortune teller.
And Hyunjin being Hyunjin, he made the most logical conclusion from the sudden and pervasive influx of Seungmin, Seungmin, Seungmin.
He can't stop thinking about him, because he ripped Hyunjin off. Because he scammed him out of five perfectly good dollars. Hyunjin is mad at Seungmin, and that's why he can't get his face out of his head.
Hyunjin doesn't feel angry, though. He doesn't feel played, or bamboozled. Not in the slightest. He doesn't know what he feels, but he knows what he has to do.
He has to go back to Prophe-Seungs. Back to see Seungmin.
To get that refund he promised, of course. Nothing else.
Seungmin did make the offer himself, should Hyunjin’s fortune not come true. And it very much didn’t. So Hyunjin is just acting rationally; doing what any normal person would do, and taking him up on the offered refund. He did bid Seungmin farewell the day before with an oh-so confident “see you tomorrow.” And tomorrow is now today. And now Hyunjin is going to Seungmin, just like he said he would.
Hyunjin found himself standing outside the fortune shop after a quick metro ride. Three stops from his house, and a transfer at city center. Easy. Under an hour, and he's there. He thought about Seungmin the entire ride.
Except, now he's there. And he has no idea what to do.
The sun is beginning to set, steadily turning the azure sky lilac then pink then yellow then orange. Then back to blue, as the pastel mishmash fades to rich navy. Hyunjin watched it all happen in the reflection of the bay window in the storefront. Because he doesn't know what to do next.
The wooden door is shut, but a sweet little sign hanging on the knob boldly states Come in, We’re Open!
The crystal ball neon sign is now alight, seeping muddled lilac into the incoming murk of night. The lights are on inside the shop, but the emerald green shades are drawn tight. Hyunjin can't see inside, but he can see slips of light above the curtain hanger, and between where the two swaths of fabric converge. A spindly crack of luminance alerting Hyunjin to the fact there is activity within.
He blinked, and he saw Seungmin’s face flash behind his lids. Brown eyes, glossy and knowing. Knowing what? Hyunjin has no idea.
He can't stay out here forever. The street lamps flickered on, the bustle of the shopping row beginning to swallow him up as the dusk progresses into evening. A pack of bag-toting shoppers are closing in on him, and Hyunjin forced himself to make his move, or be trampled.
He darted forward, latched a hand on the now familiar door knob, and pushed.
Just like that, the swarm of life on the street is exchanged for photograph stillness. A still life painting come to physical fruition, the fortune shop is completely empty and static. Save for one. A lanky figure, fiddling with a new batch of incense sticks by the shrine.
Seungmin is preoccupied with striking a match, his back to the front door. He didn't notice Hyunjin enter, and has yet to acknowledge his arrival. Hyunjin took that as his cue, as the first incense took to the match. The tip burned bright orange before maturing to a dull, smoldering red.
“Hey, Seungmin, I'm back for my ref— woah.”
Seungmin turned around and looked up, wisps of aromatic smoke now wafting from the incense. His eyes instantly met Hyunjin’s, and the world grinded to a dizzying halt. Like a scene from a drama, time froze solid. Time warped backwards. Cliche cherry blossom petals have been exchanged for a flurry of smoke, but the vision is no less ethereal, is still the picture of romantic perfection. Tendrils of fragrance are snaking through the air, floating around Seungmin’s figure and features like something holy. Something magical.
Hyunjin is entranced.
And yes, Hyunjin halted himself with a “ woah ”, verbally. As in out loud. As in cutting what he was getting at completely in half. So much for his refund, huh.
And Hyunjin’s jaw is hanging unhinged, eyes agape and dilated, because there stands Seungmin. In the middle of his store. The store that he owns. It's not terribly strange to think about.
But Seungmin is there, attention now fully roused at the addition of Hyunjin’s voice.
And Seungmin, the fortune teller, is beautiful.
His big brown eyes, the bridge of his tall nose, the rounded pillows of baby fat on his cheeks. The shape of his face, the way his pouty lips perpetually upturn at the corners. The mole by his chin, hidden under a layer of foundation but still casting a miniscule shadow when hit by the right angle of light. Beautiful .
Hyunjin was obviously thinking about Seungmin, but he wasn't thinking about Seungmin. Not in his essence. Not of his sheer perfection that previously eluded Hyunjin.
It's as if Hyunjin is seeing him for the very first time.
He's beautiful, and gorgeous, and lovely, and Hyunjin can't process how he didn't make this discovery until right this second. Seungmin is sublime in every way, and Hyunjin is at a loss for words. How did he not realize this yesterday, at the reading?
Hyunjin can't rationalize this. He can't write it off with data or editing software or being the victim of a very elaborate hoax. He can't explain it, why he's seeing Seungmin with brand new eyes of reverence. And for some other completely unexplainable (a word which was once the bane of Hyunjin's sardonic existence) reason, he can't find it in himself to complain at the change.
Is this why his brain was replaying images of the boy on an endless loop? Hyunjin doesn't know, and he doesn't care. Because now Seungmin has padded over to Hyunjin.
“Hyunjin? Are you ok?” He asked, waving a hand in front of Hyunjin’s dazed eyes.
Hyunjin gulped. He's so beautiful. How did he not notice?
“I-it's 24 hours,” Hyunjin choked past the lump in his throat. “And I didn't f-fall in love.”
Are you sure about that? His subconscious taunted him, and all Hyunjin could manage in the wake of such a thought is another gulp, audible and thick. And do everything in his power to stay upright, and not collapse onto the richly painted tile below.
“Is that so?” Seungmin drawled with an impish quirk of a brow, as if listening in on the musings of Hyunjin's own brain. His eyes are so bright. So bright, and so knowing. “You want me to give you your money back?”
It's an innocent enough inquiry. Seungmin is merely trying to make good on his offer, that's all. So why did the question make Hyunjin’s heart crumple to a heap of viscera in his chest?
Hyunjin made the journey to Prophe-Seungs fully expecting to get his money back, and leave. That's it. Make five-minute pleasantries with Seungmin, and then push through the carved wooden door with his well earned five dollars back in his wallet, where it belongs. Never to return. Never to be swindled out of his dough like that again.
But he was wrong. He doesn't want his measly, inconsequential bill back. He couldn't give two shits about it, about that stupid pocket change.
Everything has become clear, as if some cosmic being snapped their heavenly fingers. As if the mental fog within has cleared, now replaced with the dissipating smog of freshly lit incense.
Hyunjin doesn't want a refund.
He wants Seungmin.
Hyunjin felt himself crack, just like that. His lips quivered, his cheeks flushed bright, angry red. Red like the etching of Mars, hanging off to Seungmin's right. Red like the tip of the burning incense, sending earthy fragrance through the air. Red like the crushed velvet seats they sat on yesterday, currently pushed neatly under the glass table. His heart is pounding, pounding, pounding. Harder than he's ever felt in his entire life.
He wanted to see Seungmin again, all this time. He was kidding himself, drilling in the mantra that he's going to get his damn money back until he gave himself a headache. It was all a lie, because he couldn't admit to himself that he'd been thinking about Seungmin’s lips. And how badly he wants to kiss them. And thinking about Seungmin's hands, and how badly he wants to hold them.
He was living a 24 hour lie, but now the fog has lifted. Now, Hyunjin knows. He knows everything.
“N-no! I don't want my money back!” Hyunjin cried, stuffing his face in his hands to hide his thousand degree blush. “Will you just,”
Hyunjin hopes what he's saying is audible, with how his hands are muffling his lips. Not like he'd be terribly coherent without his hands smothering his face.
“Go on a date with me, Seungmin?”
Time stopped. The world stopped, the universe stopped. Even the small, battery-powered fountain on Seungmin’s shelf seemed to temporarily halt babbling.
The silence felt like iron rakes down Hyunjin’s back, and he refuses to remove his hands from clamping over his eyes. He's afraid. Afraid and at peace and in love, all at once.
Seungmin’s not too bad of a fortune teller, it seems. Maybe Hyunjin needs to rethink what he deems a scam, and reality. Or maybe it's just a coincidence. He’ll get back to you on that, along with everything else crumbling before his eyes that he once considered steadfast.
Laughter. Bubbling, effervescent laughter. Giggling so honey sweet it overpowers the dulcet running of the mini fountain on the shelf. The world restarted its engine, returning to chugging along in the universe after the brief respite from orbit.
Hyunjin splayed his fingers, and peered through the spaces. Seungmin is laughing into a dainty fist. His eyes are hidden from the sheer power of the smile on his lips, but he can still see the occasional spark of golden light reflected in the corners of his waterlines.
Hyunjin fully removed his hands, and rubbed his palms across his jeans. Imperceptible sweat tracks are left in their wake, dampening the grain of the denim.
“I'm sorry, Hyunjin.” Seungmin began, and Hyunjin’s heart plummeted to the mosaic floor. He swears he felt it land with a fleshy thud in the toes of his boots, splattering invisible spurts of blood onto a tile of painted with a wide-eyed owl. He's sorry? Sorry for what ?! Sorry that Hyunjin is delusional, that he can't go on a date with him, that he doesn't feel the same, that—
“I'm sorry for laughing,” Seungmin mused, as if sensing Hyunjin’s frantic thoughts. Maybe he can.
“But I would love to go on a date with you.” He said, and he sent Hyunjin a smile so tender, so loving, it almost bowled him clean off his feet.
And now, Hyunjin smiled. Smiled so wide the flesh of his cheeks began to ache. His heart trilled behind his ribs, his pulse running with fiery joy.
Seungmin stepped closer, shrinking their distance. He closed it even more, with another modest step. And then another.
Now, they're standing opposite the other, with barely five inches between them. “I'm glad you came into my shop, Hyunjin.” Seungmin’s voice is soft and sweet like a spoonful of sugar. Stretched like reams of cotton candy, and just as addicting.
I didn't come in, Hyunjin was tempted to admit, I was thrown in. By my stupid friend, who maybe isn’t as stupid as I thought.
He elected to keep that little detail between him and Jeongin. What Seungmin doesn't know won't hurt him.
Instead, Hyunjin hummed in contentment. “I am, too.” He admitted, and he found himself meaning every word.
Seungmin's smile is so beautiful. Like crystal. Hyunjin can't look away. Not even to blink.
“Can I predict your future, Seungmin?” Asked Hyunjin, after the golden-honey silence began to wear thin.
Seungmin looked appropriately taken aback at the proposition, his brows shooting up to his artfully mussed beige fringe in turn. His confusion quickly mellowed into expectation, as a lazy grin stretched his lips.
“I'd love nothing more, Hyunjin.” His eyes are sparkling. Like diamonds, like the crystal table by the back wall. Like stars. Hyunjin is in love. His fortune came true. Who would have thought?
Hyunjin’s lips quirked at the corners, as he gazed into Seungmin's eyes. He's looking. Not for anything in particular. He thinks he found everything he needs.
Maybe he should rethink opening a competing palmistry shop, across from Prophe-Seungs. No one likes a monopoly, Hyunjin mused with a smirk. Maybe I can call it FortHyuns . Like fortunes? Everyone loves a good play on words. This fortune telling gig doesn't seem half bad. Or maybe Seungmin is just easy to read.
Hyunjin has a sneaking suspicion it is the latter.
“I see,” Hyunjin mused, with faux-theatricality.
“ Yes…?” Seungmin took the bait without missing a beat. Leaning in, he prodded the other to elaborate, a sly smirk on his lips.
“I see a kiss in your future.” Said Hyunjin, as he and Seungmin leaned closer in perfect unison. Soon, their bangs are mingling together, their breath fanning across opposing lashes.
Seungmin chuckled, low and breezy. “That's a coincidence,” he drawled, raising a hand to cup Hyunjin’s cheek. His thumb stroked gentle circles into the flesh, and Hyunjin felt his jaw unclench under the contact.
“I saw the same thing in your future.”
And with that, the two closed whatever space was ghosting between them. Inches became an inch, became centimeters, became nothing.
Their lips slotted together, seamlessly. The kiss isn't heated or wanton or lewd, isn’t wet or wanting. It's just a kiss; simple. Textbook. Hyunjin even brought his hands up to cup Seungmin's cheeks, as their lips moved together in perfect unison. As if planned, like a choreographed dance of intimacy.
Seungmin’s lips are just as soft as his hand, and Hyunjin felt a pang in his heart when they pulled away. He tamped down the innate urge to go back for seconds, as soon they parted.
Seungmin smiled at him, eyes alight with love and fireflies and fireworks. He swears he saw a meteor fly through those hazel irises, as they got lost in each other's gaze.
“Hey, Seungmin.” Hyunjin declared, as they laced their hands together. Seungmin swung their intertwined hands, Hyunjin’s arms limp and numb from the aftershocks of that kiss.
Seungmin hummed, as he stroked over the back of Hyunjin’s hand. As Hyunjin gazed into his big, sparkly eyes, a realization knocked him atop the crown of his head. Seungmin's price of admission wasn't just fair. It was the best five dollars he ever spent in his life. That he ever will spend, for as long as he lives and loves. Hyunjin can predict that insight with the utmost certainty. Hyunjin sees love in his future, and it's beautiful and beige and has pretty brown puppy-dog eyes.
“I think I'll be seeing a lot of you, in my future.”
And with that being said, Hyunjin has to admit;
His future looks pretty damn bright .