“And that’s The Lovers! It represents a strong connection between two people—tender affection and mutual admiration…”

Choso’s mind is a whirlwind of emotions as he stares down at the spread of tarot cards on his dorm room bed. Somehow, he had let you talk him into this—your tarot reading phase, as you’d called it. Maybe it had been your relentless enthusiasm or the way your eyes lit up when you suggested it. Whatever the reason, here you are now.

Two roommates. Sitting cross-legged on his bed. You animatedly explaining the meanings of the cards, oblivious to how each one feels like a direct assault on his steadily crumbling composure.

The Ace of Cups. The Two of Cups. And now The Lovers.

Each card more romantic than the last, their meanings threading together into something undeniable—if your excited interpretation is anything to go by.

For Choso, it’s a nightmare and a revelation all at once. A strong connection. Affection. Admiration. Your voice, soft and sincere, pulls at something deep in his chest.

And the worst part? The cards are right. He hates that they’re right.

“Choso?”

Your voice cuts through the haze and he realizes he’s been staring at the cards for far too long, his silence dragging on. “What do you think?” you ask, leaning forward slightly.

What does he think? That he’s a complete idiot. That he’s spent far too many late nights replaying the way your laugh makes the world quieter, or the way your presence fills all the empty spaces inside him. That his stupid heart won’t stop giving him away. But he can’t say any of that. So instead, he clears his throat, a little too roughly, his gaze darting anywhere but to your face.

“It’s just cards, right?” he mutters, the words stiff and awkward. “Doesn’t mean anything.”