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Jonghyun didn’t believe in psychics, but he still stopped at the new age shop he found on his walk near the pier. He peered through the window into the small shop, but vibrant neon blared into his eyes and obscured his view. The sign was violently bright in its harsh blue glow, neon tubes twisted into the shape of a hand and capital letters spelling out PSYCHIC.
Out of all the things in the tiny seaside town his mom had dragged him to for vacation, this was the most interesting by far. Serenitatis lived up to its name. Serene. Boring. Jonghyun would have much rather spent the summer in his home city doing what all other seventeen year olds did—wreaking havoc with his friends. Instead he’d been dragged here, allowed only to bring a backpack full of clothes, a notebook, and his guitar.
His mom wouldn’t even let him stay in their hotel room writing. Go out and have some fun , she’d said as she pushed him out the door that afternoon, maybe you’ll make some new friends .
Jonghyun didn’t need more friends. He needed to write. He needed to rehearse with his band.
At least this shop was pretty cool.
Jonghyun stepped back from the window. He wasn’t naive enough to believe in this stuff, but through the glass, he could see the shelves stocked with crystals and incense and all other matter of shiny things. Maybe if he went in, he’d find some inspiration. At least he could get out of the heat, which lingered even as the sun set over the tranquil ocean.
He pushed through the door, and the scent of patchouli and smoke smacked him in the face. He blinked against the moisture gathering in his eyes.
“Good evening.”
The gentle voice floated through the small shop, and when Jongyun got his bearings, he found it came from a woman standing behind the counter. Her long hair was pinned up in a loose bun and she wore a flowing peach-colored dress, her outfit accented with more bangles and necklaces than Jonghyun cared to count.
“Can I help you find anything?” she asked. “Or maybe you’d like a reading.”
Definitely not a reading. Jonghyun tried his best to keep his face neutral. “I’m just looking, thanks.”
The woman smiled. “Of course. Let me know if I can help you find anything.”
Desperate for a little privacy, Jonghyun slipped between aisles, eyes fixed on the myriad of tiny trinkets. He brushed his fingers over slabs of rose quartz, but felt no energy buzzing from the cool stone. He picked up packaged stacks of tarot cards, but didn’t see what was so special about them aside from the art on their faces.
A loud clatter and a string of curses interrupted his musings. At the back of the shop, a boy in skinny jeans and an oversized sweater crawled along the tiles, gathering at least a dozen scattered books, spines splayed open on the floor.
Jonghyun rushed to help, kneeling and collecting the books in his arms. “Are you okay?”
The boy offered a small, embarrassed laugh. “I’m fine, but I don’t know if I can say the same for these books.”
Jonghyun grabbed one that had landed cover side up and attempted to smooth out the pages that had folded under the pressure of the fall. “They look mostly okay. Here.” He offered his stack to the boy, who looked up at him with a pair of pretty eyes partially hidden under messy, dark hair.
The boy smiled and reached for the books. His hand brushed Jonghyun’s as he took them, and a small gasp escaped his lips.
Jonghyun’s skin prickled under the boy’s stare, so he looked around for more books to pick up. Unfortunately, there was no more mess to save him from the shiver that tickled his spine.
The boy set the books down and sat back on his hands. “You should let me give you a reading.”
“A reading?” Jonghyun rubbed the back of his neck, hoping to ease some of the heat flaring across his skin. The boy was pretty. Probably a little younger than Jonghyun, which was apparent when he brushed some of the hair away from his face to reveal the youthful roundness of his cheeks. He was small too, a thin body wrapped in a big sweater despite the town’s summer heat.
“Yeah, didn’t you see the sign in the window?” The boy grabbed for Jonghyun’s wrist and tugged it towards himself, studying Jonghyun’s palm. “You have good energy. You’re a poet, probably. An artist.”
“I’m a musician,” Jonghyun corrected, wrenching his arm away. “And I’m guessing you’re the psychic.”
The boy grinned. “That’s me.”
“Aren’t you a little young for that?” Jonghyun asked.
The boy only shrugged. “If you have the gift, you have it.”
Jonghyun glanced out the window at the waning sunlight. Pretty soon, his mom would wonder where he’d run off to and he’d be stuck in yet another family dinner where he’d have to listen to his sister talk about boys she met on the beach. Jonghyun wasn’t interested in boys on the beach. But this one in front of him…
“I don’t believe in psychics,” he said.
“Maybe I don’t either.” The boy grabbed a nearby shelf and hauled himself to his feet before bending to pick up the stack of tomes, which he haphazardly stuffed into an empty bookcase.
Jonghyun followed him. “How does that work?” He picked up one of the books that the boy had shelved upside down and righted it.
“Let me give you a reading and you can figure it out for yourself.” The boy tossed a glance over his shoulder before moving across the small shop towards a doorway covered only with a red velvet curtain.
Jonghyun took that as his invitation to follow and he figured he might as well. The boy was cute and weird, and Jonghyun appreciated weird. So what if he didn’t believe in psychic powers? At least this would be entertaining. Maybe it would even give him an idea for a new song.
He pushed through the red curtain. The room beyond was windowless, walls painted dark blue and lined with paintings and photographs too numerous for Jonghyun to take in the details. A few shelves idled in the dark corners, glimmering crystals on their surfaces. In the middle of the room was a small table covered in a brocade cloth. The boy moved to one of the shelves and considered several decks of cards before selecting one and carrying it over to the table. “These feel right for your energy.”
“Where’s your crystal ball?” Jonghyun asked, sitting in the chair across from him.
The boy snorted. “That’s not a real thing.”
“But these cards are?”
“I told you. Decide for yourself.” He set the deck on the center of the table. “My name’s Taemin, by the way.”
“Jonghyun,” he mumbled, slightly ashamed he hadn’t asked.
Taemin smiled. “Have you ever had your cards read?”
Jonghyun swallowed, suddenly nervous. Like the energy in the room had shifted since they’d traded names. Like they’d given a part of themselves to each other. “No.”
“We’ll do a three card spread. Pretty standard. I’m going to shuffle.” Taemin started mixing up the cards. “While I do that, you should set an intention. Just think about what you want to know or a question you want to ask, and tell me when I should stop shuffling.”
Now that was something Jonghyun could handle. He wasn’t much for this spiritual stuff, but he often set intentions for his creative work. He watched Taemin slide the cards along each other, keeping his focus on the intricate design on the backs instead of on Taemin's delicate fingers or his chipped nail polish.
What was his intention? What did Jonghyun even want to know? He wasn’t sure, but as he lost himself in the trance of watching the cards move, something in him finally said—
“Stop.”
Taemin did, and set the cards on the table again. “Ready?”
Jonghyun steadied his breath because he wasn’t nervous, he wasn’t . This wasn’t real anyway. “Sure.”
He held his breath as Taemin flipped the first card over.
“Hm.” Taemin frowned as he stared at the card. A heart with three swords plunged through it. “Interesting.”
Jonghyun leaned forward for a better look. “What does it mean?”
“This is the Three of Swords.” Taemin giggled as he tapped a fingertip onto the illustration. “It’s…not great.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Annoyance flared in Jonghyun’s chest like a flame, and he reached for the card, as if he could decipher its exact meaning if he stared at it hard enough.
Taemin caught his wrist. “No touching. I don’t know where your energy’s been.”
“Are you serious?”
“Dead.”
Jonghyun withdrew, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. This was already stupid and it was even stupider that Taemin wouldn’t let him touch the cards. As if his aura would taint them or something.
“Anyway,” Taemin went on, “this card means sorrow, heartbreak, discord, and separation. Maybe your girlfriend is planning to break up with you.”
Jonghyun scoffed. “I don’t like girls.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished he could call them back. His stomach knotted and panic thrust his heart rate into a frenzy. He had to be careful with that side of himself. This little seaside town was quaint, but often quaint meant closed-minded.
Taemin smirked at him from across the table. “Me either.” He paused long enough for relief to unwind Jonghyun’s tension. “Your boyfriend, then.”
“Don’t have one.” He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted Taemin to know that.
Taemin just shrugged and flipped the next card.
Jonghyun took one look and hated it even more than the first one. “Yah! What is this?” The card on the table showed a drawing of a bard singing to the far-off sun. On the bottom, two words blazed in bold black: The Fool .
Taemin giggled again. “This one isn’t as bad as it looks. The Fool means new beginnings. A fresh start. Self discovery.”
Jonghyun rolled his eyes and used all his self control not to grab the card and rip it up. He wouldn’t want to taint Taemin’s precious deck with his bad vibes. Taemin could say whatever he wanted, but the card spoke for itself. “Just hurry up with the last one.”
With a sigh, Taemin humored him and pulled the last card. This one sported a drawing of horses pulling a carriage. “The Chariot means success but it can also mean you have a long journey ahead.”
“This is all really vague,” Jonghyun muttered, studying the card. The whole reading has been typical. Sorrow, self discovery, and success? Sounded like every bad drama he’d ever watched. “I don’t think you’re a psychic at all.”
The smile dropped off Taemin’s face. Jonghyun hated that.
“Whatever,” Taemin sighed, gathering the cards back into a pile. “I usually charge for these things, but since you helped me with the books, I’ll let you have this one for free.”
“Oh, you’re letting me have it?” Jonghyun asked. “Am I supposed to be grateful? This is a scam!”
Taemin wrinkled his nose. “Good. I hope it’s all wrong. Then I won’t have to stay here for the rest of my life, doing readings for people who don’t even appreciate them.” He stood up, chair scraping against the floor, leaving the cards on the table. He stormed out of the room, thrusting the curtain aside, and disappearing beyond it.
Shit. Jonghyun didn’t believe in psychics, but… he hadn’t meant to hurt Taemin’s feelings. That had to be bad karma, right? Did he believe in that ? He got up and followed Taemin, who breezed out of the shop, leading him out into the humid night.
The air was heavy outside, dense with heat and sea salt. Taemin crossed the idle street separating the strip of shops from the beach and paused only to kick his shoes off, leaving them in the sand. Jonghyun hopped on one foot, clumsily untying his sneakers and tossing them to the side as he chased after the younger boy. “Taemin!” he called over the sound of the waves.
Taemin finally stopped and pivoted, digging his heel into the damp sand. A wave broke and slid over the beach, the foamy edge of the water soaking his toes. “I was right,” he said when Jonghyun was close enough. “You’re already causing problems. Just like the Three of Swords said you would.”
Jonghyun burst into laughter. “I guess I’m my own source of sorrow.”
“And mine,” Taemin said, unable to suppress his own laugh. The sound was sweet and unbridled, a joyous symphony that collided with the gently rolling tide. “You can buy me ice cream to make up for it.”
Jonghyun didn’t remember offering to make anything up to Taemin, but he wanted to. Especially when the stars above the ocean sparkled in the boy’s vibrant eyes. He sighed. “Fine. Where can we get ice cream in this town?”
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
Jonghyun went back to the shop the next day, but he didn’t ask for a reading. Instead he asked if Taemin could go down to the pier, and Taemin begged his mom (who Jonghyun found out owned the store) until she relented and let him off his shift early.
They spent the day doing things Jonghyun would never normally do—playing unwinnable carnival games and stuffing their faces with funnel cake. They rode the Ferris wheel, bodies pressed much too close in the hot metal cart. When they crested the apex like a wave, Taemin gazed out over the ocean and said, “One day I won’t be stuck here anymore.”
The moment felt too poignant for Jonghyun to ask what he meant. He forgot about the comment soon after, and never brought it up on any of the other late afternoons they spent with their toes in the surf until it was time for Jonghyun to go home, back to his life.
Jonghyun knew they should remain friends once that happened.
On his last morning of vacation, he hurried to the shop to say his goodbyes, but it was closed. Neon PSYCHIC sign off. Dark inside.
Jonghyun left without Taemin’s number.
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
Taemin was right. Sorrow was quick to find Jonghyun.
The band had a falling out and broke up, leaving Jonghyun with even fewer friends to play music with and none to make music with. The friends he did have developed other interests: girls, alcohol. They convinced Jonhyun to party with them, and his grades slipped. The worse he did in school, the more he drank and the more dust his guitar collected in the corner of his bedroom.
He went to a house party with a few new acquaintances and met a boy with alcohol on his breath who kissed him in the bathroom. He wasn’t as pretty as Taemin. Still worth it, Jonghyun thought, as their hands and lips wandered—the first time Jonghyun had let anyone touch him like that. Until the door ripped open, obliterating their privacy, and the most homophobic kid in their class stood on the other side.
Jonghyun was outed to the whole school. A few of his old friends tried to shield him from the bullying, but he sank into isolation.
He graduated. Barely. And when his mom asked if he wanted to go back to Serenitatis—to join them on one last family vacation before he went off to university—he jumped at the chance.
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
Jonghyun didn’t even follow his family into the hotel, didn’t even stop to drop off the guitar strapped to his back. As soon as the car parked in the sleepy beach town, he took off.
He found Taemin on the seawall, bare legs dangling over the edge, rough waves gulping at his ankles and spattering his rolled up shorts with foamy spray. His hair was lavender now, a splotchy dye job Taemin must have done himself. Still, he looked cute. Relief diffused through Jonghyun’s chest as he jogged towards his friend.
Taemin frowned. “What happened?”
“Haven’t seen you in a year and that’s the greeting I get?” Jonghyun sat cross legged next to Taemin, heat from the sun-warmed concrete seeping through his jeans.
All he got in return was a pair of pursed lips. “You just got here and you came to find me first.”
Jonghyun sat back on his hands, enjoying the salt breeze. The first time he’d felt free in so many months. “How’d you know I just got here. Did you feel my energy or something?”
“No.” Taemin slapped his arm. “You’re carrying your guitar, which you probably wouldn’t be doing unless you just arrived. Plus you smell, so I’m guessing you were in the car for a long time.”
“I don’t smell.” Jonghyun discreetly sniffed an armpit. He did smell.
“But you do feel different.” Taemin’s eyes drifted along the choppy horizon. “Three of Swords?”
Jonghyun had hoped he wouldn’t have to talk about all the shit he’d been dragged through over the past year. “I guess you could say that.” He pushed to watch Taemin tuck a messy strand of lavender hair behind his ear, the sea breeze immediately sweeping it away again. “Wait, you remember that? Don’t you do like a hundred readings a day?”
“I remember the important ones,” Taemin said with a shrug. “Or I just thought you were hot. I was wrong, you’re annoying.”
The briefest spark of pride from the complement sputtered into a twist of smoke with Taemin’s insult. Jonghyun staggered to his feet, struggling with his balance under the bulk of the guitar. “I’ll quit annoying you, then.”
He probably shouldn’t have taken it so personally. Most likely, Taemin was joking. Jonghyun had learned from the few days they’d spent together last year that the boy was innocently mischievous. But Jonghyun wasn’t in the mood right now. Because he… because…
“You haven’t played in a long time, have you?”
His shoes scraped on the concrete wall as he halted with his back to Taemin. Heat flashed across his body, all the way up his neck. “How did you know that?”
Had he left dust on his once-beloved acoustic even though he’d attempted to clean it thoroughly before this trip? Had Taemin noticed the calluses on his fingers had softened? There must have been some giveaway, some physical evidence that Jonghyun’s passion had burned out like a withered candle.
It pissed him off. So much that his eyes blurred.
“I told you,” Taemin said softly, the teasing edge in his voice smoothed out with something akin to compassion. “You feel different. Blank.”
Blank.
The single word ripped him in half like the pages he’d scrawled semi-formed lyrics onto and eventually crumpled in angry fists. It had to be a guess, because Jonghyun didn’t believe in psychics. He didn’t. But somehow Taemin saw what he’d become since their last meeting.
Nothing.
Jonghyun exhaled slowly, unsteadily, though he scraped for purchase on his volatile emotions. There was a storm in his chest where his heart should have been—a cold front icing him over, brewing and looming until it met just the right warm catalyst to whip it into a squall.
He wiped his eyes because he wasn’t going to cry on this sunny strip of tourist traps. “It’s your fault,” he said with more venom than he meant. “Three of Swords. Everything was fine until—”
Until he lost his band.
His friends.
His creative fire.
Until his most sacred secret was aired in front of his entire school for the mocking.
The dull crash of the waves and the light chatter of seagulls lulled into the space between them. For as long as it took Jonghyun to palm the tears from his cheeks so they didn’t spill into the sea.
“You should play for me.”
Taemin’s request was so matter of fact, so demanding, Jonghyun couldn’t help but make some sound between a scoff and a halfhearted laugh. “Back to making demands, are you?” He faced Taemin again, the maelstrom inside him plummeting into a downburst, broken by the pout on his friend’s pretty lips.
Taemin wrinkled his nose. Such a brat. “I’m not demanding anything.”
“Yeah, right.” Jonghyun slipped the guitar strap from his shoulder and closed his hand around the neck, the strings and frets gnawing at his nervous fingers. “You demanded ice cream last time. And that I ride the Ferris wheel with you.”
“Like you didn’t have a good time,” Taemin said, a syrupy smirk gliding over his lips. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have looked for me as soon as you got here.”
Jonghyun couldn’t say shit to that. Instead, he kicked off his shoes and retook his seat next to his friend, this time letting his feet dangle over the edge of the seawall and dip into the cool, frothy water. “What do you want to hear?”
“Anything. Just go with what you feel.”
Easier said than done. Jonghyun couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt music. But Taemin, who had proven last year that he could talk a mile a minute, kept his mouth shut and offered no other suggestions.
So Junghyun plucked idly at the strings. The vibration felt familiar and new, a sensation so intense it nearly brought a fresh round of tears to his eyes. His hands knew what to do, exactly which frets to press, which strings to pull, exactly what sounds they’d make. Every note he coaxed from the guitar melded beautifully into the tidal sounds surrounding them.
He wasn’t sure how long he played. Desire welled in his throat—desire to sing—but he wasn’t ready for that yet. Not with so many people around and with Taemin being such a savage audience himself.
Maybe later. When he could lock himself in his room. Maybe then he could find his voice again.
When Jonghyun’s fingers got sore, he let the last notes fade across the ocean and set the guitar beside him.
“Not bad,” Taemin said.
“Not bad?” Jonghyun had to laugh at that. “Let’s see you do better.”
Something playful glimmered behind Taemin’s impish smile. “I have a better idea. There’s going to be a bonfire on the beach later. Come with me.”
“Even though I smell?” Jonghyun teased.
Taemin rolled his eyes and stood, brushing sand from his shorts. “Shower first. Meet me here at ten.”
Before Jonghyun could ask for any more details, Taemin had hopped off the seawall and trotted away, barefoot on the sunbaked street.
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
Jonghyun was an adult and shouldn’t have had to explain to his mom why he wanted to go out so late, but he found himself offering a clumsy excuse anyway. She shot him a skeptical look before retiring to her hotel room. Taemin hadn’t said there’d be alcohol at this gathering, but what else was a bonfire on the beach for? His mom knew as well as he did. But all she said was, “Make good choices.”
The first good choice Jonghyun made was to shower and scrub thoroughly because he didn’t want to be accused of smelling like Cheetos and stale air conditioning shot through with motor oil. He took a while to select his clothes, but he thought he did all right picking an outfit that rode the line between casually aloof and well-put-together. This time he didn’t bring his guitar.
He was weirdly nervous as he walked towards the seawall where he and Taemin had planned to meet. Even more nervous when he didn’t see Taemin lounging by the waves. So Jonghyun sat and watched the nearly full moon glinting off the ocean and listened to the snippets he could catch of passing conversations and waited.
And waited.
Until Taemin finally emerged from the closed shop about a half a block down the street, stumbling over his flip flops and swiping at his unruly hair. “Sorry I’m late.”
Somehow, Jonghyun wasn’t surprised. Or irritated. “It’s all right. I was just checking out the moon.”
“Makes sense,” Taemin flopped down beside him as if they hadn’t made plans to be somewhere. “You feel connected to the moon.”
“I guess.” Jonghyun had never thought much about it but it made sense. He’d always been a night owl, his creative juices flowing in the dark better than during the day, and his mom sighed over his unreliable schedule, saying he was always up with the moon. “Does that mean something?”
Taemin shrugged. “Depends on what you believe. If you want me to get into moon cycles and their effect on the planetary—“
“Hey, what about this bonfire you were talking about?” Jonghyun interrupted, to tease and because he really didn’t feel like getting a lecture on astrology (or whatever you called the moon side of that) on his first night in town. He just wanted to have fun with Taemin, who he’d missed. So much.
Taemin led him down the beach, walking slowly in the surf. “You know, this town is named after one of the seas on the moon,” he said before grabbing Jonghyun’s hand and dragging him to the bonfire.
Jonghyun didn’t know there were seas on the moon, but he forgot to ask about them when Taemin thrust a beer into his hand and started introducing him to a bunch of local kids around their age. He drank a little and his social anxiety fizzed away as the alcohol seeped into his veins.
He realized he liked watching Taemin with his friends. They all seemed so easy around each other, the way Jonghyun used to feel with his band.
While Jonghyun drained his beer, Taemin sidled up to him and linked their arms. “My ex is here. Pretend I just said something funny.”
Jonghyun dropped the empty bottle from his lips and chuckled. “What?”
Taemin glanced in the direction of a cluster of surfer-looking guys near the fire. “Not good enough,” he snapped. “Try again.”
Truth was slow to dawn on Jonghyun—probably because it had to fight its way through the beer. “Are you using me to make him jealous?”
“Yes.” Taemin half-sighed, half-growled. “Now pretend we’re really happy.”
Despite the ex hanging around, Jonghyun was really happy. So he threw his head back and laughed and even wrapped an arm around Taemin’s waist for good measure. Taemin pressed closer. Jonghyun guessed he was happy too.
By the time Jonghyun was on his second beer, one of the surfer guys stalked over to where he and Taemin were sitting with their feet buried in the sand and asked if he could talk to Taemin. Jonghyun bristled but tried not to show it. The thought of Taemin leaving his side to steal away to one of the empty lifeguard huts down the beach irked him to no end. So he was surprised when Taemin told the guy to buzz off. “I’m good here,” he added, giving Jonghyun a quick, sweet smile.
Another beer later and Taemin’s ex was nowhere in sight. Actually no one else was anywhere in sigh. Just Jonghyun sprinting clumsily down the shoreline with Taemin at his side and an empty lifeguard tower ahead. They skidded to a stop when they reached the hut, panting and dizzy. Jonghyun willed himself not to throw up. He hadn’t had this much to drink in a while, but this felt different the times he drank at home. Then, he was drinking to obliterate the pain that dogged him everywhere.
Now, he glowed like the moon.
“Will you sing for me now?” Taemin asked when he caught his breath. He hung onto one of the stilts lifting the precarious tower above the sand.
Jonghyun sucked air through his teeth. “I don’t know.” He wanted to, but the alcohol wasn’t enough to erase the anxiety he felt at trying something he hadn’t done in a long time—especially in front of Taemin.
Taemin pressed his lips together in another cute pout.
“Don’t do that,” Jonghyun said.
Taemin just pouted harder.
Jonghyun sighed. “All right.” He gave in because how was he supposed to resist that face? Plus, he knew he’d be a victim of the younger boy’s attitude if he failed to live up to Taemin’s expectations. “What do you want me to sing?”
Taemin plopped down into the sand and hugged his knees. “Something about the moon.”
Luckily, Jonghyun had just the thing. “I’ve been working on a song about the moon.” It was… sort of a lie. He had been working on it, over a year ago. The last time he’d written anything. But he still remembered it. “It’s not finished, but I remember most of what I had down.”
“Okay.” Taemin blinked up at him, waiting.
Jonghyun’s face heated, adding more pink to the flush the alcohol already painted across his cheeks. “Don’t look at me.”
Taemin scoffed. “You know when you perform, the audience is looking at you, right?”
“Yes, I know that.” Jonghyun rolled his eyes. “Just… I need you to not stare me down right now.”
“Fine.” Taemin pivoted in the sand. “I’ll look at the moon.”
That actually sounded like a good idea, so Jonghyun did the same. He cleared his throat, nerves blocking his vocal chords and heart pounding a fast rhythm. Too fast for him to follow. But he promised Taemin, so he took one more deep breath and let his voice fly.
Once the first few notes were out, it was easy. It came back to him so quickly, he wondered why he’d been scared of this moment for so long. The lyrics floated out of him and over the gently rolling ocean, as long as he kept his focus on the moon.
Eventually, he felt strength well up in his chest, pride in his heart. He risked a glance at Taemin, who listened with his eyes closed, lavender hair swaying in the seabreeze, beautiful rounded features shimmering in stardust.
Jonghyun sang the last chorus for him.
When he finished, the notes faded over the quiet waves, until the sound of shifting sand joined them. Taemin, having scrambled to his feet, grabbed Jonghyun’s hands. “That was amazing. You’re incredible. I knew I was right about you.”
“Right about me?” Jonghyun scoffed. “You said I was a poet.”
Taemin’s brows knotted in the middle of his forehead. “Aren’t you? You wrote those lyrics, right?”
Jonghyun guessed Taemin was right again.
“I’m an artist too, you know,” Taemin said. “I’m a dancer. And one day, I’ll get out of this town and study at a real conservatory.”
“I’m sure you will,” Jonghyun said, because Taemin was right about everything.
Still buzzed, Taemin insisted they stop in at his mom’s shop before parting for the night. As soon as Taemin clumsily unlocked the door and they stepped inside, the overpowering scent of smoke and patchouli wafted into Jonghyun’s senses. It didn’t feel like too much this time. He’d missed it.
Taemin flipped the lights on and dragged Jonghyun to a shelf littered with stones in all shapes, sizes, and colors. He pointed to a cluster of milky, light pink crystals. “Pick the one that feels the best.”
Jonghyun fisted a few of them and turned them over in his palm. They were smooth, cool. “They all feel the same.”
“You’re not even trying,” Taemin huffed.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do!” Jonghyun argued. “They’re just rocks. What are they supposed to feel like?”
Taemin sighed through his nose, the cute pout crossing his lips again. He pried Jonghyun’s fingers open and arranged the crystals around his palm. “Close your eyes. Stop thinking about how this can’t possibly be real and just relax.”
Jonghyun did as he was instructed, though he wasn’t sure he’d be able to put doubt completely out of his mind.
“Think about what you want,” Taemin’s voice continued. “Set an intention. And just feel.”
Setting an intention was something Jonghyun had once found easy, but he hadn’t done it in ages. But this trip was already proving to throw the unexpected at him, so he tried.
What did he want?
To be successful in his music career. To just be able to play music again, to write. To have friends. To be happy. Be himself.
He opened his eyes to find Taemin’s staring back at him and he knew just what he wanted.
He picked up a small, rounded crystal from the collection on his palm. “This one.”
Taemin grinned. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He took the crystals Jonghyun didn’t choose and put them back on the shelf. “That’s rose quartz. It attracts abundance and happiness. Should help with the whole Three of Swords thing.”
Taemin made Jonhyun repeat the process with something called moldavite, which he warned Jonghyun should be careful with because it was known for forcing change. Jonghyun laughed a little at that, but secretly hoped it would work. He could use some changes in his life.
He also pressed an onyx stone made from tiny columns of metamorphic rock into Jonghyun’s palm and closed his fingers around it. “Black tourmaline,” Taemin said. “To remind you to give yourself the same love you give everyone else.”
Jonghyun didn’t believe in psychics or crystals, but he could use a little help with the self love part. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing to believe.
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
The crystals worked.
Jonghyun went off to university and things improved immediately. Yeah, there were some boring core classes, but he liked being able to study what he wanted to. Music. Literature. He liked the friends he made who were just as passionate. He especially liked the aspiring novelist who sat next to him in his Contemporary Poetry elective.
A year older and dedicated to his art, he got that same spark in his eyes people said they saw in Jonghyun’s when he talked about music. He asked Jonghyun on a date, unabashed and without any euphemisms to cover up what it really was, and Jonghyun accepted. They had dinner and went to a poetry reading and kissed under the silvery glare of a streetlight outside Jonghyun’s dorm. They went on a few more dates, introduced each other to their respective friend groups, and pretty soon it wasn’t just dates but dating . Dating consisted of more than the occasional dinner, like long weekends locked in together, ordering takeout and snuggling under a blanket. Of kissing each other raw. Of letting those kisses turn into more, because when his boyfriend slipped his hand inside Jonghyun’s jeans for the first time, Jonghyun didn’t stop him.
Dating was bliss.
Dating also meant he had to come out to his family, which went a lot better than he expected.
He did well in school and his creative appetite was back with a vengeance. Jonghyun was sure the Three of Swords was behind him and he was firmly in the Fool part of the reading Taemin had given him over a year ago.
He finished the moon song he’d sung to Taemin, thinking about his friend as he composed the last of the lyrics, which ended up much more sultry than he’d expected.
Jonghyun’s boyfriend laughed when he read them. “Didn’t know you thought our sex life was that intense.”
“Yeah, me either,” Jonghyun said with a small chuckle and a needle of doubt pricking his heart.
He performed and wrote. He wrote and performed. By himself because he could never seem to get a proper band together. One night, just the right person happened on one of his shows and offered him a huge opportunity.
Jonghyun signed a contract. Made an album with the song’s he’d written since the last time he’d seen Taemin. How many summers had passed since then? He named the album after the things Taemin had called him when they met. Poet | Artist .
Moon was a hit. And it wasn’t about Jonghyun’s boyfriend.
Jonghyun took a semester off and went on tour. His romance with the novelist started to crumble.
“I think we should take a break,” his boyfriend said on a late night phone call as Jonghyun rode shotgun in a cluttered van packed with instruments. No, not his boyfriend anymore. “You’re never around. I can’t deal with this.”
Jonghyun could have voiced his complaints too. You don’t even write anymore. You’re not reaching for anything. Maybe if you had something to focus on instead of me, you’d be okay with me following my dream too. But as true as they rang, they all seemed too cruel.
So Jonghyun begged. He wasn’t proud of it, but he couldn’t let go of the only person who had ever loved him the way he needed to be loved. Still, the result was the same, and Jonghyun wondered if the Three of Swords was a cycle he was doomed to repeat.
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
As soon as the tour ended, Jonghyun took a hiatus and flew straight to Serenitatis. He needed answers and only one person could provide them.
He shoved through the shop door, annoyed by the strong patchouli smell, but he still greeted Taemin’s mother behind the counter. “We haven’t seen you in so long,” she said after kissing Jonghyun on the cheek. “Taemin will be so pleased. He thought you’d be coming by soon.”
“Is he here?” Jonghyun asked.
She motioned to the curtain that covered the entry of the reading room. “Just there.”
Jonghyun thanked her and hurried through the doorway, pushing the curtain aside to reveal a lithe figure standing at one of the shelves, arranging decks of Tarot cards. Blonde hair this time.
“I knew you’d be back this year,” Taemin said without turning around.
Jonghyun wasn’t surprised Taemin knew it was him without looking. “Yeah, your mom said.”
“You need something.” Taemin’s hand glided over the decks, until it stilled over one and he made his selection. “This feels right.” He finally turned around, already spilling the cards from the box into his palm. “You have a lot of nerve showing up here after three years and asking me for a reading.”
Had it been three years? Jonghyun remembered his last vacation like it was yesterday. Playing his guitar on the seawall. Drinking at the bonfire. Singing to the moon. All of it with Taemin.
Jonghyun rubbed the back of his neck. “I haven’t even asked for anything yet.”
“But you were going to.” Taemin sat at the table and spread the cards around, placidly shuffling.
Jonghyun didn’t have to ask how Taemin knew that. He still didn’t believe in psychics, but he couldn’t deny there was something about Taemin. He drifted over to the shelf Taemin had been standing at and scanned the different decks. Some of them were labeled Tarot , but others Oracle and Ange l. Jonghyun reached out to grab a really cool looking pack of cards that had wolves on the box, but stopped himself, remembering Taemin’s warning. He had to admit, his energy wasn’t the best.
“Why don’t you use these?” He pointed at the wolf deck. “They’re cool.”
“Oh, those.” Taemin waved dismissively. “We don’t get along.”
Jonghyun sat down in the chair across from Taemin and leaned his elbows on the table. “You don’t get along with the cards? How does that work?”
“It’s just an energy thing,” Taemin explained, scraping the shuffled cards into a pile. They weren’t as cool as the wolf cards, but they were pretty, glistening iridescent silver with delicate designs. “They don’t like to cooperate with me and I get a bad feeling when I hold them.”
“But these are better?”
Taemin nodded. “They wanted to be used for your reading.”
Jonghyun wasn’t even going to ask. “So, was that Three of Hearts like a cyclical thing? Like am I stuck having bad luck forever because of that card?”
Taemin looked up at him with a sharp glare in his eyes. “The cards don’t determine your future. They just tell you what might happen based on your energy.”
“So, what’s the point then?” Jonghyun threw his hands in the air.
“For you to interpret them for yourself.” Taemin traced his index finger over the corner of the deck, deciding on a place to cut it. “I can pull them, but you have to decide what they mean.”
Jonghyun sighed. What was the point if the cards didn’t actually mean anything? Why was he even entertaining this?
“I’m leaving.”
The words shook Jonghyun from his reverie. “What?”
Taemin fanned the cards on the table, then put them back together—probably feeling around for the right energy or something. “I got into a dance conservatory. I’ll be going there in a few months to study.”
“That’s really great,” Jonghyun said, wishing he could mean it more. Wishing his ex didn’t have such a violent hold on his emotions. His anxiety hadn’t abated in days—not since the break started. “So, what are we doing today? Am I supposed to set an intention?”
“Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?” When Jonghyun just sat there, Taemin followed up with, “It works better if I know what your intention is.”
Jonghyun tapped his fingers on the tablecloth. He’d been so desperate when he’d arrived, but now he felt ashamed to admit to Taemin why he’d come all this way. “I, ah,” he raked nervous fingers through his hair, “My boyfriend and I are on a break. I wanted to know if there’s any hope for us.”
Taemin’s lips pursed and Jonghyun detected the slightest flash of distaste on his pretty features. “Oh. Okay.” He inhaled slowly and cut the cards again. “I’ll do a one card pull to see what’s in store for you two.”
In the half second it took for Taemin to pick up the card and flip it over, Jonghyun hoped whatever was on the surface would wipe the frown off Taemin’s mouth.
Taemin placed the card in front of Jonghyun. Two people—a man and a woman—naked and embracing while an angel flew overhead. The delicate script at the bottom read The Lovers .
“Well.” Taemin gripped the edge of the table. “Looks like you’re in luck.”
“Really?” Jonghyun fidgeted in his chair, heart rate picking up. “What does it mean?”
Taemin tapped the edge of the card. “Could mean a lot of things, but usually it means something positive about a romantic connection in your life. Considering your intention, I think you’re capable of interpreting this one for yourself.”
Jonghyun definitely could. Not like he really believed in this stuff but, for the first time since hed gotten that phone call, hope fluttered in his heart. It disintegrated when he caught the sulky expression on Taemin’s face.
“Let’s go to dinner or something,” Jonghyun said, eager to boost the psychic’s attitude. “I’ll buy. I owe you for the reading anyway.”
Taemin pouted—something Jonghyun should have been used to by now, but for some reason his heart skipped whenever Taemin pushed those plump lips out at him. “Dinner and then you disappear for another three years?”
“Are you ever going to let that go?”
“Depends on how expensive the dinner is.”
They got up from the table and left the shop, making light conversation as they treaded the streets, crowded with tourists now that the sun was setting beyond the sea, Taemin’s anger at being ignored for several years seemingly forgotten. Jonghyun wasn’t sure how to tell him that even though he hadn’t been back to Serenitatis in a while, his mind had never wandered far from Taemin.
They ate at what Taemin said was the best seafood restaurant in the whole town and drank an expensive bottle of wine because Jonghyun was serious about earning Taemin’s forgiveness. He explained why he hadn’t visited in so long—the album and the tour. He left out details of his relationship with the novelist and found, despite the good news he’d gotten from the reading, he didn’t really want to think about it anyway.
When they finished, Jonghyun suggested he walk Taemin home, but Taemin wanted to go back to the shop instead. “I have something to give you,” he insisted as he took Jonghun’s hand and dragged him down a brick path lined with blooming Jacaranda trees.
Jonghyun laughed. “What? More crystals?”
Taemin didn’t even flinch. “They worked, didn’t they?”
They made it back to the shop and Taemin let them in. Not the first time they’d had been here after hours, Jonghyun mused. He followed Taemin back to the reading room, only for his friend to press the deck of Tarot cards with the wolves etched on them into his hand.
“Take these,” Taemin said.
“Isn’t this bad vibes?” Jonghyun asked, shoving them back at Taemin. “I’m not supposed to touch your cards, right? Plus, you said you didn’t like these.”
Taemin rolled his eyes, much too dramatic a reaction, but Jonghyun found his attitude endearing. “These are yours now. I’m giving them to you, which is how you should get your first deck anyway. And just because I didn’t connect with them, doesn’t mean they’re bad. You were drawn to them, so they belong with you.”
An unfamiliar warmth flooded Jonghyun’s chest as he picked the top of the box open and shook the cards halfway out so he could flip through them. “I don’t even know what to do with them.”
“Yes, you do,” Taemin reminded him. “Set an intention and pull. You can read up on the interpretations. The more you use them, the better you’ll get to know them.”
As Jonghyun ran his finger over the edge of the deck, he stopped and tugged at one card because… he had no explanation except that it felt right. This one was pretty. A hand holding a star floating over a thick forest. “Ace of Pentacles,” he read the script at the bottom.
“Opportunity,” Taemin said, peeking at the card. “Whatever it is, you should take it.”
Jonghyun would.
He slid the card back into the deck and set the box back on the shelf, gaze set on what he really wanted, so close he would reach out and grab it. His hands went to Taemin’s hips and pulled him in until their thrumming hearts pounded against each other, depserate to touch through bone and flesh. Jonghyun waited—either for Taemin to give him consent or to pull away, and he saw his sign in Taemin’s closed eyes and tilted head.
Their lips touched.
So soft.
They shared a gasp, like the first breath they’d taken in three years. Like so much time apart had suffocated them. Then Jonghyun dove in deeper, desperate for more oxygen, more Taemin. More.
Taemin’s hands raked through his hair and their tongues slid over each other, the kiss that had started as a gentle wave swelling into a fierce squall. Jonghyun didn’t believe in psychics and he didn’t know if he could sense energy, but he knew this was what he wanted above everything else.
A harsh vibration shattered the quiet and ripped them apart. Irritation roared like a flame in Jonghyun as he reached for his phone in his pocket, wondering what he’d done to earn the bad karma of having this perfect moment interrupted. “Sorry,” he muttered, flicking the ringer off.
He glanced at the screen and froze. His ex’s name blazed across the glass.
This was the reason Jonghyun had come all the way out to this town—to get answers from Taemin, not to kiss him. The idea that he and Taemin could be anything other than friends who saw each other once a year at most was wishful thinking. A fantasy Jonghyun had convinced himself of in his desperation.
He’d gotten his answer when Taemin pulled The Lovers. And he’d been right again.
Jonghyun wiped his mouth with his sleeve, eyes fixed on his phone as the call ended. A second of icy panic was followed by a text message from said ex: Call me back please?
“I, uh… I have to take this.” He risked a glance at Taemin and wished he didn’t see the hurt and betrayal flitting across that pretty face.
Taemin hid it well, though. Jonghyun had always known him as someone who felt deeply but kept it to himself, but he also knew Taemin well enough to catch the hints. “The ex?” Taemin asked.
Jonghyun’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah.”
“Good.” Taemin’s face did not match the single word. “That’s what you wanted.”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t let me stop you.”
Jonghyun backed up still clutching his phone. “I don’t know how long I’m staying this time, but I’ll come back.”
“I know you will,” Taemin said with a painfully straight face before Jonghyun swiped his cards from the shelf and hurried out of the shop to make the call he thought would make him happy. As he stood under the stars, thumb hovering over the call button, he felt as lonely and barren as the moon.
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
Jonghun went home and got back together with the novelist, but it didn’t last long. His boyfriend’s constant demands for him to stay home , don’t go to the studio , s pend less time with your head in the clouds worked for a while. Jonghyun worried something was wrong with him. His relationship was important and music was interfering. Why couldn’t he let the music go?
For a while, he found a balance. He compromised. He canceled all his out of town shows and only wrote and practiced when his boyfriend was busy with homework or out with his friends. It worked, Jonghyun told himself. They were happy—reasonably. As long as Jonghyun kept the peace.
Keeing the peace was hard, though, and after a few months, Jonghyun needed a break. He talked his boyfriend into letting him go on a writing retreat by himself. “I’ll only be gone for a few days, and when I get back, I’ll have it out of my system and I can devote all my energy to you.” Jonghyun cringed as he said it. It didn’t feel right.
A lot of things didn’t feel right, which was why he needed to leave for a while. Clear his head. Even the tarot cards he pulled each day (because, yes, he actually took Taemin’s advice and studied up on them, got to know them) kept confirming what he already knew. Something was wrong.
Only Serenitatis could set it right. His cards knew that too, repeatedly offering him the Ace of Pentacles or the Three of Wands, which apparently meant GO .
Jonghyun did.
Again, he didn’t waste time checking into a bed and breakfast or exploring the tourist traps in town. Not that it would have mattered anyway. It was off season, and the place was a ghost town compared to the crowds that packed the beaches during summer. He went straight to the psychic shop, heart pounding as he pushed the door open, overflowing with joy at the thought of seeing Taemin’s slight frame organizing crystals on an upper shelf. Wondering what color his hair would be this time.
He couldn’t wait to tell Taemin everything. That he’d written a song for him, that he was working on another one now because this friendship or whatever it was between them was too precious for him to lose. Maybe Taemin would give him another reading, something he could use to guide him when he got home.
As soon as he stepped inside, Jonghyun inhaled the sweet scent of patchouli and smoke deep into his lungs, drinking in its comfort. He looked around at the quiet place, at the crystals and books and incense burners lined up on the shelves.
The place was empty.
Above the light flute music wafting from the speakers in the ceiling, there was no light singing or cursing or dropping of books. No one stood at the shelves restocking inventory. Everything was completely still except for a thin string of smoke twirling from the ember of an incense stick.
“Hello?” Jonghyun called as he moved down one narrow aisle stocked with dream journals and candles. “Taemin?”
In his peripheral, he caught movement. The red curtain being pushed aside.
“Taemin?” Jonghyun’s heart jumped as he scurried around the shelf to get a better view of his friend.
But it wasn’t his friend.
An older woman stood in the doorway. Jonghyun recognized her immediately as Taemin’s mother.
“Hi,” he said with a relieved smile. “I don’t know if you remember me, but—”
“Of course, I do,” she said, soft and sweet, but her expression quickly morphed into one of concern. “You seem distressed.”
She didn’t have to be psychic to know that. Anxiety squeezed Jonghyun’s chest, heart in a vice. “I’m okay,” he lied. “I’m actually here to see Taemin. I really need to—”
“Oh.”
Oh?
Cold trickled down Jonghyun’s spine. “Is… he here?”
“No, he isn’t,” the woman said. “He doesn’t live here anymore.”
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
Jonghyun changed his flight and went straight home, not even spending one night in the seaside town he used to adore. Not until he’d begged Taemin’s mother to tell him which dance conservatory her son attended. It took a while, but she finally gave. The school was one Jonghyun knew well. He walked past it almost every day on his way to university.
For months, Taemin had been studying dance just a few blocks away from Jonghyun’s apartment. Jonghyun had several hours on the flight home to stew in his resentment, but as the plane descended, he realized he had no reason to be angry. What was Taemin supposed to do? They’d never exchanged numbers. Jonghyun had always meant for them to, but the last time they saw each other, he’d been too excited at the prospect of repairing his relationship with the novelist to make sure he could contact Taemin. In truth, Jonghyun had always thought Taemin would be in Serenitatis, waiting for him. He sould have realized Taemin wasn’t the type of person to wait.
Before the landing gear touched the runway, Jonghyun pulled the wolf deck from his backpack and shuffled the cards discreetly, fanning them out in his grip and pulling the one he felt was right.
The Lovers.
Goddammit, what did that even mean?
He shoved the cards back into their box, resolved not to hand his power over to them. Jonghyun didn’t believe in psychics. Or cards. Or candles. Or anything like that. He was in control of his life, not some stupid pieces of cardboard with drawings on them.
When Jonghyun came back to the apartment he shared with the novelist, his boyfriend greeted him with a surprised smile. “Back so soon?” he asked between kisses.
Jonghyun just smiled, determined to forget about Taemin and the cards stuffed in the bottom of his backpack. “Yeah, I missed you too much.”
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
Sometimes Jonghyun went out of his way to pass the conservatory.
Crossing the street to get a closer look. Watching the dance students pour in and out of the old brick building that looked like a castle. Searching the crowd for a shock of blonde hair. Or black. Or lavender. He didn’t know what Taemin’s hair looked like these days, but Jonghyun trusted he’d know if he caught a glimpse of his friend.
As the snow thawed and winter warmed into the first blossoms of spring, Jonghyun found he couldn’t keep the status quo in his relationship anymore. The urge to write and play his guitar were too overwhelming to hide, and he began shirking his partner in favor of spending hours in the studio, writing songs about the boy he’d met in a little seaside town.
It was just a phase. When Jonghyun got Taemin out of his system, when he got some of these songs recorded, he’d forget about Serenitatis and be happy at home. As soon as he wrote just one more song.
One more song.
One more song.
Still, his memories of Taemin lingered like a restless spirit, tossing and turning in his mind.
The novelist noticed. “You’re not the same. You’re never really here with me. Your head’s always somewhere else.”
“That’s not true,” Jonghyun lied. His head was somewhere else—on the beach with Taemin, singing to the moon. “I’m just focusing on my career. The new album is taking a lot of time, but I’ll be finished soon.” He hoped that was a lie too, because he was happier in the recording studio than he was at home.
“I can’t do this with you,” said the novelist who hadn’t written a novel in years. “I mean it this time. Commit fully to our relationship, or I’m leaving.”
Jonghyun didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to explain that with the pain of those words came a slight sense of relief.
The novelist sighed. “I’ll go stay with a friend for a few days until you’ve made your decision.”
Jonhyun just stood in their kitchen, numb, while the only boyfriend he’d ever had packed a duffle full of clothes and left without a word.
The first night, Jonghyun cried into his pillow, alone in the bed that was supposed to be shared, until he had no tears left, and all he could do was lie awake, staring out the window at the moon.
The next day, he haunted the apartment, agitated and unsure of his next move at any given time. He couldn’t sit still, but when he tried to move or focus on an activity, his chest squeezed too tight.
By the evening, though, he’d calmed down. He reached for his guitar. He wrote something new—a song about heartbreak, a new beginning. He called it The Fool.
That night, he slept.
In the morning, Jonghyun ate breakfast, his first meal since his partner had abandoned him in heir apartment, then picked at his guitar, polishing the song he’d written the day before. When that was done, he felt no closer to a decision on the ultimatum he’d been given.
But he did feel something. It tugged at his mind. A need he hadn’t felt in months.
He dug through his closet for his old backpack and fished around in the messy pocket cluttered with an old journal, loose papers and pens, until he found the tarot cards decorated with wolf drawings. When he held them in his hand, the need dissolved. He sat on the floor and shuffled them, letting them pass over his fingers, touching them like he’d touch a lover. Until he felt the pull that had once been familiar.
There.
That one.
Jonghyun pulled the card and laughed.
The Lovers. Of course. What cruel twist of fate was this? Exactly the same card he’d been pulling months ago, over and over again. He was no closer to deciphering its meaning now than he was the first time he’d seen it.
When Taemin pulled it for him.
When, for one brief second, Jonghyun had known exactly what he wanted and hadn’t been afraid to take it.
Taemin’s words rushed back to him like a storm surge. I can pull them, but you have to decide what they mean.
Jonghyun had to decide.
The problem wasn’t the cards or Taemin’s spiritual sensitivity. The problem was that Jonghyun had been deciding wrong. He’d decided wrong the night he walked away from Taemin and called the novelist back, accepting his apology like none of the controlling behavior or gaslighting mattered if they got back together. It did matter, though, and he wasn’t happy. He was happy when he was with Taemin.
Jonghyun called the novelist and they agreed to meet so Jonghyun to verbalize his decision. He took it bitterly, but Jonghyun expected that, and after some arguing with Jonghyun holding firm to his boundaries, they agreed that the novelist could come pack his things and move out the next day.
Sadness washed over Jonghyun, and he let himself wallow in it for a week, snuggling under a blanket and watching feel-good romcoms until he passed out on the couch each night or eventually migrated back to his bed to watch the moon until he fell asleep.
One morning, he felt ready.
He walked to the conservatory and sat on a bench in the front courtyard, scribbling lyrics into a notebook when he got an idea and waiting. He waited and waited. Morning stretched into afternoon, and by the time the moon rose over a dusky evening, Jonghyun’s hope waned.
He’d been stupid to think this was a good idea. Maybe Taemin didn’t have class today. That was okay. Jonghyun would just call the shop in Serenitatis and beg for Taemin’s schedule or his phone number or something because he wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. He’d already made it too many times.
He snapped his notebook closed and shoved it into his bag, tucking it safely next to his tarot deck and zipping the pouch shut. As he slung it over his shoulder, he caught sight of a tuft of dark hair, soft strands windblown over a pair of round eyes he recognized.
Taemin stopped dead in the center of the courtyard, an oversized sweater ungulfing his thin frame, a duffle bag hanging off his shoulder. “I knew you’d be here.”
“You can’t just say that and expect me to believe it,” Jonghyun said with a grin, trotting over.
“Fine, don’t believe me,” Taemin said with a pout. “I guess you’ll never know if I was telling the truth or not anyway.”
“I went back to Serenitatis,” Jonghyun explained, breathless for some reason. “But you weren’t there. You said I’d see you there again.”
“No, I said you’d come back,” Taemin corrected. “I didn’t say I’d be there.”
Jonghyun wanted to argue, but he wanted something else more. “You were right,” he said, which he thought was a good way to start an apology that was probably going to turn into a confession. “You were right that I have to interpret the cards’ meaning for myself. Last time I saw you, I was interpreting wrong.”
Taemin chewed his bottom lip. “You wanted to get back with your ex.”
“I did get back with him.” Jonghyun toed the concrete, needing something to look at so he wouldn’t have to look Taemin in the eye when he said, “It was a mistake. I should have chosen you. And I know this is coming way too late, but I realize how stupid I was. I can’t stop thinking about you. I write songs about you all the time.”
“I know,” Taemin interrupted. “I’ve heard them.”
“And?”
“Are you seriously asking me to compliment your music while you’re in the middle of a confession?” Taemin scoffed. “Confess first, then we’ll talk about the songs. I have some notes.”
A laugh bubbled out of Jonghyun’s throat. That was the Taemin he knew, the Taemin he missed desperately. “I know I’m way too late,” he said, “but that night in the shop, when you gave me that deck… I think we should pick up where we left off there. Give me a do-over. Every stupid decision I’ve made since then, I’ll make up to you.”
Taemin hummed, considering the offer. “I think you need to go back before where we left things. Let’s start at you buying me dinner.”
“Okay,” Jonghyun said eagerly. “Maybe I could get your number and we could set something up.”
“You don’t trust the cosmic energy to bring us back together again?”
“No, no, cosmic energy is great. But I’d rather not take another flight to look for you just to find out you’re hundreds of miles away or sit here all day every time I want to talk to you.”
The corner of Taemin’s mouth twitched. “You waited all day for me?”
Jonghyun grabbed his phone from his pocket to collect the treasure he’d intended on taking since the first day he met Taemin. “Please don’t make me do it again.”
“I don’t know. I kind of like he idea of you sitting out here and pining all day on the off chance I might show up,” Taemin said, but slid the bag off his shoulder and knelt to rifle through the dance shoes and soiled clothes inside until he found his phone. They swapped numbers, and Jonghyun triple checked to make sure he had Taemin’s right. He was learning not to make the same mistakes over and over, and here was another learning opportunity.
“What if I curse you?” Taemin asked, picking up his bag. “You know, Three of Swords and all. I seem to recall you blaming me for that.”
Jonghyun checked the new contact one more time before sliding his phone back into his pocket. “The Three of Swords isn’t a curse. It can also be interpreted as a catharsis or an opportunity to change things.”
“I guess you have learned something,” Taemin said, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. “I guess I’ll see you when you decide to call me. Hopefully not in three years.”
“Not three years,” Jonghyun called after Taemin. “I promise.”
Why not now?
The voice rang so clear in his mind, Jonghyun shivered and glanced over his shoulder, as if someone else had heard the conversation and added their own piece. But there was no one there. The idea had come, Jonghyun realized, from his intuition, which the cards had taught him to flex like a muscle.
Jonghyun ran after Taemin, catching up to him and offering a date that night—a chance for Taemin to voice his opinions on Jonghyun’s music, which the younger accepted.
Taemin took that opportunity literally when they met up for dinner a few hours later, talking a blue streak about Jonghyun’s music and every little thought he’d ever had on each track. Jonghyun didn’t mind the nitpicks. He liked that Taemin listened, that Taemin cared enough to appreciate his art.
“I need to see where you write your music,” Taemin insisted once their plates were clean. “See if the energy’s good. If not, I can smudge it for you.”
That meant a trip to Jonghyun’s apartment, to Jonghyun’s bedroom, which Taemin took one step into before declaring, “Yeah, the energy is fine in here,”and pressing Jonghyun against the wall with their lips connected. Keeping their mouths together, Jonghyun guided Taemin to the bed, where the moon shone bright through the blinds, illuminating Taemin’s skin in an ethereal glow as disarming as his touch.
Taemin was still there in the morning, wrapped up in Jonghyun’s sheets, rolling over and groaning an assent when Jonghyun asked if he wanted coffee. Jonghyun went downstairs to start the brew, letting Taemin sleep a little more.
While he waited for the coffee, his attention was drawn to his backpack, to the deck of cards in the front pocket. Curious, he poured them onto the kitchen counter and shuffled until he felt the pull again. Checking out one card couldn’t hurt because Jonghyun no longer feared what they might mean. His fate was his to decide.
With a contented heart, completely serene, he turned the card over.