Chapter Text
“That’s creepy, hyung,” the silver haired man in the back says, “you can’t just say things like that!”
The tall man in the front frowns.
“You’re right, that sounds a bit creepy, but it’s true.”
He takes a step back and motions with his hands towards the table where the other men sit.
“Take a seat, please, and I’ll tell you everything,” he says to Yoongi, who is still barely inside the shop. “I’ll try to explain it in the least creepy way that I can,” the man adds with a sheepish grin.
Despite his brain telling him that it’s not too late and that he can still make a run for it and leave the shop, Yoongi takes a few steps towards the table behind the curtain. He hears the door that Taehyung held open slam shut, and the bell tinkles. The tall brown haired man is holding out a chair for him and Yoongi sits down against his better judgement. The table is made of mahogany wood and clad with an old looking golden table cloth. The chair he sits on has a dark green cushion. It faintly creaks when he sits on it, adding to the mystical aesthetic of the place. It smells nice, like a concoction of musk, burned wood and old paper, mixed with the smell of home. It’s all familiar and reassuring, and it scares him. He nervously looks at his hands, and he intertwines them. They are shaking a bit. He takes a small breath and tries to calm down, even though he should definitely not feel comfortable surrounded by strangers in an unknown place like this. He doesn’t think he will die tonight anymore, but he can’t seem to calm his nerves. Earlier, when he had talked to Taehyung, he felt more at ease, but now, there’s something unsettling him. He thinks there’s something shady about these people. Maybe they are part of a cult, he thinks, or the mafia. What if he has unknowingly joined a gang? His mother wouldn’t like that. What if they want to take his most precious belongings so he doesn’t escape? Are they going to track his family down too? What if they want to see Holly? Why--
He is brought back from his thoughts when he hears the tall man, who he believes might be their leader, ask him if he would like some tea. Taehyung rolls his eyes.
“He probably thinks we’re gonna poison him,” he says, lightly. “He thought I was gonna kill him earlier,” Taehyung scoffs.
The other guys sitting at the table snicker at the comment. Yoongi raises his eyes and takes a better look at them. They both look so young. One of the two has black hair and stands tall. His face is sharp, all bones and definition, with a prominent nose in the middle of it. His eyes, though, are round and sparkle with naïveté. It makes him look both twenty-five and twelve. His stance is also an oxymoron itself, where his child-like mannerisms and toothy smile collide with his defined muscles, clearly defined even though he’s completely clothed. The other guy is significantly shorter and he has a big, puffy face. Everything in him seems small. When he smiles his eyes disappear into small crescents, and he tries to hide himself behind chubby hands. His smile is contagious, and his aura oozes comfort and serenity.
Babies, Yoongi concludes.
“Anyone else wants tea?” the taller man, whom Yoongi has pretty much forgotten about, asks. “I know you’re all pretty fond of it,” he looks at the boys and he can hear some bitterness in his tone, but decides not to dwell on it.
After a chorus of “me” erupts, Taehyung—who offers to make it—and the silver haired man—who offers to help—disappear behind another maroon curtain behind the desk with the cash register. Their departure leaves the three other men sitting around the table in silence.
“I believe I should introduce myself,” the tall man says and smiles. Yoongi can see dimples.
“Hi, I’m Kim Namjoon and this is my magic shop,” he says and stretches out a hand for Yoongi to shake.
“Well, you already know my name,” Yoongi answers while warily reaching out and shaking Namjoon's hand. His hands have stopped shaking long ago.
“Once again, I’m sorry for being cryptic and creepy, we will explain everything.”
“This guy right here is Jeongguk. He’s the youngest.” He signals at him. “Don’t let all this muscle mass intimidate you, he’s very shy.” He smiles softly, while Jeongguk looks mortified.
“Hyung!” Jeongguk protests, his cheeks getting red.
“And the guy who went with Taehyung to make tea is Jimin,” he points at the door. “The two of them make their own tea from scratch and are very particular about how it’s made, so they might take a while,” Namjoon tells him. “But enough about that, let’s dive into this explanation now, shall we?”
“Alright,” although he tries to keep an uninterested and annoyed face, Yoongi can’t deny that he’s curious.
“First of all, do you believe in magic?”
Yoongi scoffs.
“No, I don’t.”
“Well then, I hope you can take this calmly.”
Namjoon begins his explanation. Yoongi is already lost after a minute.
He’s being told that Namjoon is a witch—or wizard, for those people who can’t handle using such a feminine term as witch—and that he grew up in a family of witches. He was taught magic as a young child and has been practicing it since then. Potions, spells, you name it. His grandmother was a seer, but none of her children or grandchildren obtained the gift. She had passed away when Namjoon had just started high school and only left him one thing: a deck of tarot cards. At the mention of the cards, the younger looking of the guys got up to get the cards. He handed them to Namjoon, who thanked him quickly, and he sat down again.
“Now, here’s the thing about the cards,” Namjoon picks out seven cards randomly from the deck and starts putting them on the table in front of Yoongi. “My grandmother spent a month making them. During that month, she wouldn’t speak to any of us, she would barely eat or sleep and she just worked and worked until they were finished…”
The seven cards all shine in muted silver, contrasting against the golden cloth on the table. They look well kept, almost brand new.
Namjoon smiles.
“They still look new, despite them being over ten years old. She worked so hard to make them…” he smiles, but his eyes are sad. “She passed away a year after they were finished, but she hadn’t let anyone see them yet. We had almost forgotten about them, until we read her will.”
Once the seven cars are laid out in front of him, side by side, he stops talking. He looks encouragingly at Yoongi.
“Pick one.”
Yoongi hesitantly reaches out and turns the closest card around. There is a silver tree on it, with a man hanging upside down from it. There is something about the man that looks familiar. He’s clad in casual clothes, and his face… Yoongi has seen that face before.
Oh.
It’s Taehyung.
When the realization hits him he drops the card, as if it had burned him. Namjoon chuckles and turns two other cards around.
His eyes widen when he recognises the face on the first card. He is wearing a white tunic, with some kind of wings sprouting from his back. He’s holding a cup, and he looks serene. Jeongguk. His heartbeat accelerates. How can it be? He grabs the other card. A cloaked man holding a lantern. He braces himself before looking at his face, but there’s no confusion. The man on the card is Jimin. He stares at both cards intensely, waiting for something to change in them. The most logical part of himself tells him it’s possible these cards were made after they met, but somehow he knows that’s not true.
When Namjoon turns a fourth card and revealing himself, Yoongi isn’t surprised. The Namjoon on the card is sitting on a golden throne. He looks wise, like someone you could confide in and who could help you, with stern but warm eyes.
There’s three remaining cards lying on the table, and just as Yoongi is about to ask about them, the curtain behind the register is pushed aside. Taehyung and Jimin enter with cups, a teapot and someone else walking in behind them. He walks up to the table and even if the lightning isn’t the best Yoongi immediately notices the man’s pastel pink hair.
“Did you really think you could tell him without me Joonie?” The newly arrived man crosses his arms and looks down at Namjoon, who shrinks down in his seat. “You let him be here of all people but exclude me?”
“Hey! What’s wrong with me being here?!” Jeongguk shouts, offended.
“This is adult talk, Gukkie.” He answers with fake sweetness.
“I’m twenty, hyung!”
“You’re still a small little baby. I remember when we first picked you up, you were such a scrawny little kid…” the man sighs.
“Namjoon hyung, tell Jin to stop mocking me!”
“It’s hyung to you, brat! Respect your elders!” the man turns over at Namjoon. “As I was saying, you should have told me we had a new-comer, Joonie!”
“I’m sorry, hyung, I didn’t wanna disturb you,” Namjoon looks apologetic.
“I was just checking the inventory,” he says with nonchalance. “We are low on dried dandelions, by the way, so you should get on that, Jimin,” Jimin nods in confirmation, “I would have loved for you to disturb me, Joon, this is the last one after all!” His attention changes direction from Namjoon to Yoongi and he reaches out a hand just like Namjoon did.
“Hello, I’m Kim Seokjin and I’m the co-owner of this place, although it seems like I’m not important enough to be mentioned.”
Yoongi is intimidated. The man in front of him is taller than him, as it seems with everyone in here, except Jimin, and he’s handsome. Like, vogue level handsome. The kind of handsome that makes middle-aged women look at him dreamily, wishing for their daughters to take someone just like him home. He has plush lips, defined brows, white teeth, a proportionate nose, wide shoulders and a charming smile. So, yeah, Yoongi is intimidated by his beauty.
“I’m sorry, hyung, you’re really important to me. Can you now, please, sit down?” Namjoon’s face is red and Seokjin looks pleased.
“With pleasure,” he says and places himself on a chair next to Namjoon. He takes one of the last three remaining cards on the table and turns it around. “I believe this right here should be me.”
And he’s right.
The man on the card looks powerful and is definitely Seokjin, even if his hair is black on the card. He’s holding a silver staff and is surrounded by flowers. Yoongi shivers. He is intimidated even by a man in a card.
“The Magician,” Seokjin holds up the card, looking at Yoongi when he says it. “The cards aren’t an exact and accurate description of us, but this card can represent beginnings.” He takes a breath, looks and Namjoon and smiles faintly. “Let’s say I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I was the first one of us that Namjoon found.”
“And why’s that?” Yoongi dares to ask.
“We’ll get to that later,” Seokjin says, shrugging off his question, “but first things first. What’s your age?”
“I’m twenty-four.” Yoongi says, trying to make his voice sound sure instead of trembly. He fails.
“Ha! I’m your hyung!” he screams, sounding delighted.
“Okay… hyung?” he says, sounding unsure.
Seokjin beams, and a flash of something passes by his eyes. He turns to look at Jeongguk again.
“See how easy it is, brat?”
“But I didn’t say anything now!” Jeongguk squeaks.
“That’s the problem! You almost never say it!”
“Maybe I would call you hyung if you actually acted like one!”
“What are you implying, kid? Have I not taken care of you? I used to drive you to class! I cooked you soup when you were sick!”
“Yeah, but—“
While they are engrossed in their discussion, Namjoon, Jimin and Taehyung scoot closer to him,
“They like to bicker a lot, but Jin hyung would lie his life down for Jeonggukie,” Jimin tells him with a fond look on his eyes.
Yoongi just nods, and watches as Taehyung’s big and bony hands engulf the teacups as he serves them one by one. His pulse is steady, and he doesn’t even flinch when he burns himself with the steam coming from the teapot.
From out of nowhere, Namjoon starts talking.
“At first, it was just me. I was a kid, about seventeen. I had these cards that I knew nothing about because my deceased grandmother didn’t give me an explanation. So I kept myself awake for days, looking for a meaning. Needless to say, I didn’t find one. When I met Seokjin hyung, I had lost all hope. I was still obsessed with the meaning of the cards, but I didn’t think I’d ever know their purpose until I found him. Not that I know it now, of course, but seeing him…” He stops, trying to gather his thoughts. “It was a breath of fresh air. Suddenly a crack of light appeared where I thought there was only darkness. I was so relieved. After that, slowly but steadily we found the others. We found Taehyung in a bookshop while we were looking at magic books and he was looking for the newest Haikyuu!! volume.”
“Hyung tried to flirt with me using One Piece pick-up lines, and he almost fainted when he realised I was one of the guys in the cards,” Taehyung chirps up, a big foxy smile.
“As soon as I realised who he was, I felt so embarrassed I almost didn’t talk to him all the way back to the shop.” Seokjin buts in.
“This shop?” Yoongi curiously asks.
“Yeah. It serves both as a hideout and as the actual place where the magic happens, literally. Ordinary people think we are trying to scam them with bullshit tarot readings, and what they don’t know won’t hurt them.” Namjoon solemnly finishes.
Yoongi takes a sip of his tea. It’s delicious and rich in taste but it is also scalding hot, burning his tongue and causing him to drop his cup and spilling all of his tea on the table. Yoongi quickly apologises, feeling embarrassed, and Jeongguk giggles. On any other occasion, he would have probably chastised the other person, but the kid’s laugh is weirdly endearing, so he lets it pass. He picks his cup up and Jimin refills it.
After Yoongi’s little tea fiasco has been dealt with, Namjoon continues explaining how he met the others: Hoseok working in a grocery shop and Namjoon dropping a beer can when he saw him—making it somehow explode (“Who is Hoseok?” Yoongi asks. “Ah, he’s the last of the guys. He should be here soon,” Namjoon answers). He also tells him how it was actually Jimin who was the one to find them when he came into the shop to buy supplies and how surprised they were when they recognised him. He gets told that Jimin also is from a family of witches. Lastly Namjoon tells how they found Jeongguk having a panic attack over Pokémon Go! in a McDonald’s bathroom.
Yoongi listens to it all while drinking his new cup of tea and smiles inwardly. He takes another sip—it really is delicious. They might be delusional weirdos who believe in magic, but they sure know how to make tea— and leans back in his chair to study the men in front of him. He looks at Taehyung, Jimin and Jeongguk who are whispering about something. He looks at Namjoon and Seokjin who are talking in low voices about the inventory while refilling their cups. When his cup is full, Namjoon turns to Yoongi again.
“I bet you can guess who’s on the last two cards, Yoongi. You seem like a smart guy.” Namjoon smiles, gently prompting him to speak.
“Well,” Yoongi swallows, “one of them should be that Hoseok guy, right? You talked about finding him so…”
Namjoon turns the card furthest from Yoongi around to reveal a picture that can only be described as a bright. Half of the card is covered by a giant yellow and gold sun. Under the sun stands a man surrounded by sunflowers. The man is smiling, and it’s beautiful. It’s the brightest, most genuine looking and contagious smile that Yoongi has ever seen. He finds himself smiling while looking at the card, and when he looks up he sees that the others are smiling as well. He ventures a hand forward, as if to caress the card but the little bell above the shop door tinkles and all of their attention turns towards the door, breaking the trance Yoongi had found himself in.
Yoongi is very glad he is sitting down already, because he’s sure he would’ve fallen on the floor if he didn’t when the newcomer steps into the shop.
“I’m sorry! Dance practice ran late!” the man at the door says.
Suddenly Yoongi loves athletes. Because how could he not, when an attractive man is in front of him, hair still damp with sweat, looking like he just stepped out of the latest Sports Illustrated issue. He didn’t know sweat could look this good, but he’s not complaining. He has the biggest smile on his face and his t-shirt is dangling from his shoulder, exposing some tanned skin. He hears the guys greet him, and his smile gets even wider, if possible. Jeongguk jumps to hug him, and Seokjin pats him in the shoulder. Somehow, in-between all the chaos, the man doesn’t fail to notice him. He approaches him, smile friendly, and Yoongi gets ready to embarrass himself in front of a hot dude, as usual. To his credit, social interactions get a tad bit more difficult when the person you are talking to looks like someone you’d want to have all your children with.
So, Yoongi is panicking, and the man is approaching him relentlessly. He wipes the thin layer of sweat off his hands on the front of his pants. He blinks, and the guy is already in front of him. He studies his face, and notices his eyes are crinkling. He holds his hand in front of him for Yoongi to take.
“Hello, I’m Jung Hoseok, and you are?”
Yoongi gulps. Attracted to you, he thinks.
“Min Yoongi” he says, instead.
Of course this is Hoseok. Who else could it be? Yoongi glances at his card again and, sure, he can see the resemblance; it’s only that the card does not make him justice. Not a single bit. A picture could never accurately depict the beauty of the man standing there, practically glowing due to the sweat and the bright smile. It’s like he emits a light on his own, making everything around him seem even more magical. It’s a kind of glimmer that makes Yoongi be nice and a better version of himself, basking off Hoseok’s gleam, and it scares him. He takes his eyes off him and sees Seokjin looking at him, eyes questioning. He gulps, and nervously starts fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.
“Let’s turn the last card now, shall we?” He feels a nudge on his arm and raises his eyes to see Namjoon looking at Yoongi expectantly, so he turns the last card.
He should have seen this coming, he really should have. It was all hinting at this, but still he’s shocked to see himself on the card. It’s similar to Hoseoks card, half of it is covered by a dark blue night sky with a big white and silver coloured moon. The Yoongi on the card is sitting down on some grass beneath the sky, looking at the moon. It’s alarming how accurate the painting of him is and Yoongi can’t stop looking at it. How the hell could some random man own a ten year old tarot card deck with his current face on it, dyed hair and all?
He asks Namjoon this and he just shrugs.
“I told you, my grandmother was a seer. She just knew, somehow.”
Yoongi just keeps his eyes glued to the card. It can’t be. This has to be a trick. He keeps glaring at the card, as if he could discover the truth that way. He’s only sure of one thing: this ruse is unbelievable. Suddenly, all these men that have started to seem nice only look like liars that are trying to make him fall for this illusion, and his blood begins to boil at the thought of people thinking he is foolish enough to believe this. He grabs the card, but doesn’t take his hands from the table.
“I’m not an idiot!” He says, getting up from his chair. “You might do these kind of tricks for a living, but I’m not some delusional customer. Tell me how the fuck is my face on this card,” Yoongi demands.
“I really wish I could, but I honestly have no idea,” Namjoon reaches forward to take the card out of Yoongi’s hands, but Yoongi is quicker and retracts his hands from the table so he can’t touch him or the card.
“I wanna offer you a job here, Yoongi, it’s what I did to the others I found and, as you can see, they all took me up on my offer. Beyond that I also wanna offer you magic lessons.”
“Fuck off, I’m not joining your cult,” Yoongi snaps, still holding on to his card with an iron grip.
“Actually,” Hoseok coughs to clear his throat before continuing, “It’s a coven.”
Hoseok’s voice is melodic and he’s smiling at Yoongi. He has to fight the urge to smile back.
“Still not joining,” he mumbles, now slightly red in the face. He wants to hear Hoseok’s voice again.
“We won’t force you to! It’s one hundred percent up to you whether you want a job here or not,” Namjoon assures him, “If you walk out of here tonight unconvinced just know that my offer will stand for as long as I own this shop. You are always welcome here.”
Yoongi breathes, trying to collect his thoughts.
“Let me get this straight: you’re offering to pay me to go through some witch training to get a job here all based on the fact that I share some similar traits with a guy that’s on your old magic cards?”
“Slight similarities? You’re identical!” Jeongguk, who has been silent during most of their conversation pipes up.
“I don’t see it.”
But he’s lying. Of course he does. And that’s what freaks him out the most.
“So, what do you say?” Namjoon says, looking sincere. The others do to. Unfortunately, though, their looks can’t convince him to start believing in magic. He has made up his mind and he is taking this card and leaving the shop before they can take something else from him.
“I’m not gonna work here, I already have a job and I’m not joining your coven or whatever you say it is, so I guess I’ll leave now.” He gathers his things before looking at Taehyung and Jimin. “Thanks for the tea, it was really good,” they smile timidly at him.
Yoongi stands up, puts the tarot card in his pocket and takes one last look at the people around the table before he says a quick goodbye and leaves. It’s dark and quiet outside now and he wants to make it home as quickly as possible. Thankfully, there’s a bus stop not far from the shop and, after a five minute wait, a bus arrives. This time when he rides the bus he doesn’t have to worry about some random guy staring at him. He feels relieved about the whole stalker situation being solved, but now he’s worrying about the card. He puts his earphones in and decides not to dwell on it. The person on the card could be someone else, or the card could be brand new, made today maybe, just to get him to join some cult and scam him out of all of his money. No, he is putting this whole ordeal behind him and if he sees Taehyung stalking him again he’s calling the police.
No, Min Yoongi is not a fool. He is a rational person who does not believe in magic and he would never work in a magic shop, scamming people for a living. Never.