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»»——⍟——««

And so came the day of Yuta's trip to comic-con. Of course, he was no longer looking forward to dressing as the Undertaker and taking photos with fellow fans. Instead, he was tapping at his thighs nervously whilst his friend drove them to the convention.

Since Mark had left a few days ago, Yuta had been knee deep in palmistry. He had found himself at three in the morning, restless, reading ancient texts about the art and how divination came about. Now that he had done so much research, he was actually dreading this whole situation.

His driving friend glanced over at him for a moment, eyebrows creasing when Yuta's chirpy mood was nowhere to be seen. He watched Yuta open his phone, check the notifications, and then close the screen when nothing was there. He went through that cycle a few times before he intervened.

"Who're waiting for?" His first guess was a girlfriend, but he didn't want to jump to conclusions.

Yuta turned to look at him. "Pardon?"

"You keep checking your phone."

He visibly hesitated. "Ah... no-one..."

Yuta's phone buzzed a few seconds later, and he sighed in relief when he received:

Mark
how is everything? do you feel okay? everythings fine over here

Winwin leaned over and read the text as he waited in traffic. "Cute. Boyfriend?"

Yuta buffered. "Wha-- no!"

»»——⍟——««

"Hey, can we take a photo?"

Yuta beamed at the children dressed as two characters from the same anime waved him down. He crouched next to them and helped take the photo.

"Thank you!" They said as the ran off, giggling.

Yuta said goodbye, watching his friend - dressed as Haikyū's Sugawara - interact with other anime enthusiasts.

They had been at the comic-con for a while, and nothing had gone wrong. In fact, the more Yuta thought about everything the fortune teller had told him, the more he was convinced himself that he was lying. Perhaps it was all a scam.

As genuine as the man seemed, con-artists had to be good in their field otherwise they wouldn't make any money. That'd explain his sudden hair colour and lack of tattoos. It was all an image. A front.

The worst part was part of Yuta wanted to believe him.

»»——⍟——««

Mark stirred his coffee as he scrolled through his computer. He had been sat at his desk for the past hour, monitoring the weather and keeping himself up to date on any traffic or collisions on the route his latest acquaintence had taken.

But there was nothing., and whilst that should have been comforting to him, it was just the opposite. His fingers tapping away at the keyboard gradually pressed harder, and soon the room was filled with the sound of plastic clacking angrily.

He fumbled for his phone when it pinged.

Nakamoto Yuta
there's no problem over here. my shoes are fine. winwin's just got work tomorrow so we're on our way back. are you sure you were right?

Mark dragged a hand down his face to calm his nerves. He had never been wrong before. Besides, he had picked up the shoes and whoosh his headache cleared. If there was one thing to be sure about, it was that the shoes were bad news.