Marked For Her

As Min walked into Kush's apartment, he was unsurprised to be bombarded by a rancid smell, probable boxes of various sizes and cans of (knowing his friend) beer clattered to either side of his path. He wouldn't be surprised if the only thing not covered in the garbage was the couch he was gently guided to, though it was obviously stained in many places—possessing an odd mix of odours that honestly frightened him; he was sure he didn't want to know what they were—as house-keeping had never been high on his friend's to-do list. 

But for fuck's sake, even in his condition, he wouldn't let his place smell like the aftermath of an all-night kegger (while probably looking like a dumping ground), even if he had to hunker down and clean by himself, no matter how long that took.

"Yeah, uh… ignore—"

Min couldn't help but quip, "Everything?" 

"Yeah," Kush said with a sigh. "It hasn't been an easy transition from dating to lonely and miserable."

Min laughed, making space on the couch as his friend's weight settled beside him with a huff. "Not still over her?"

"I really thought she was the one, you know?" Another sigh followed the rhetorical question and then a short pause before, suddenly, Kush clapped his hands loudly, the couch groaning slightly with his movements. The leg that brushed up against Min told him Kush faced him. "But enough of that; you said you needed my help. Be specific, man."

"I'm trying to find out just how I'm being tracked."

"Any ideas?"

Min leaned his head over the back pillows, eyes narrowed and jaw tense. "She's probably a mark user."

"Yeah, that's a sure bet; maybe she placed a mark on you?"

"Maybe."

"But there's no way to be sure."

Min slumped further into the couch. "Yeah."

Silence ensued, and for some time, nothing could be heard save for their breathing, the distant voices of passers-by, and the droning of traffic up and down the street. Then;

"I just thought of something."

"Hmm?" Curious, Min turned to face his friend. He could imagine the expression on Kush's face—the type he usually wore whenever he had that breathless tone; an expression of marvel at the moment of rare brilliance—and if the conversation wasn't literally about life and death, he would have laughed out loud. As it was, he could only manage a small smile. 

Kush's words came out rushed, punctuated by sounds of rapid movements as his friend paced back and forth somewhere in front of him. "Marks may be only visible to their makers, but since they are capable of esoteric effects, it is possible that an MU has the ability to see marks—or even better, nullify them." 

A beat of silence passed, and then Min leaned forward suddenly, eyes wide. "Fucking hell!"

Kush laughed, "Right?!" His laughter petered out as quickly as it appeared before he continued, though there was still some cheer in his voice. "Of course, such an ability is pretty much a game-changer, so they are bound to either be hidden or affiliated with some powerful people."

"Fucking hell." Min couldn't help but repeat himself, an almost delirious mix of laughter and shock apparent within its notes. The possibility was something obvious in hindsight, but that didn't mean it had even crossed his mind until now—and it made perfect sense. "You are a fucking genius."

His breathless compliment elicited raucous laughter from Kush before his friend muttered something about using the toilet, heading off and leaving him to his thoughts. 

In a world revolving around the use of marks—able to make the previously thought impossible possible—it wasn't far-fetched to believe that abilities that could (if utilised properly) break the system exist: marks nullifiers, marks enhancers, and things of that nature. Someone with such an ability was not an unlikely notion. Not one bit. It was more unlikely for such a person to not exist. 

But on that note…

He let his eyes close—not really necessarily for what he intended to do, but more of a formality (unless it was a rush job)—blocked out all extraneous information, and opened up. 

How it felt, in truth, defied all explanation. The closest he had ever come after all this time was the descriptions of losing oneself, but even that didn't seem quite right. However, whatever it was had no bearing on how it worked. All he was certain of was that he pulled from something, deep within the depths of his soul, to reveal the celestial rhythms of transport that guided the cosmos. And instantaneously, as the connection formed and his mark appeared where the directed part of his body touched—as it did now, along with a mental tally in his mind—he was open to similarly-coloured glossy white, repeating lines crisscrossed in complex formations that formed on the couch and the strand that connected from him to it.

One.

"Hello? Earth to Min." Kush's insistent voice broke through his thoughts. "Why are you distracted, man? I thought this was serious."

"Sorry, I had to place my mark here."

"Why?"

"Just in case."

"Just in case?" Kush repeated Min's statement, but before the latter could follow up with a reason for his random bout of paranoia—he remembered Death's warning about the criminal underbelly's awareness of him, and needed a place he could run to if needed—the former continued. "You know what, it doesn't matter…"

And maybe it doesn't actually matter. Yes, because of Kush's association with him, his friend could be in danger. But, on second thought, while Death was by all accounts a psychotic bitch, she only paid attention to her target and those who stood in the way of her reaching said target. Provided Kush didn't do anything stupid, like try to fight her in a foolish attempt to save him, she would pay him no mind. 

And regarding the aforementioned criminal underbelly, he was their target. And while it was commonplace for 'evil' people to use loved ones as hostages, it wouldn't make sense for them to try and use Kush to their advantage. For all they knew, Min and his friend had just recently met or were even co-workers. Unless they devoted time to researching their relationship—through which they would find more important people, no offence to Kush—they would be working on assumptions. And that point, it was better to take their chances on a seemingly blind and powerless man than gamble on a hostage situation.

"…leaves the problem of how we can find said mark user. They are either super important or super secretive, and for good reason. So, we need someone unusually in the know. You know, someone well-connected in the—"

"What're you waffling about now?"

A chuckle, and no doubt a precursor to another of Kush's tics: rubbing at his neck. "Can't help it, man. You know I studied the phenomenon of marks as a degree in uni, so I'm always hyped to discuss shit like this."

Min shook his head while tut-tutting faux-mockingly. "Geniuses and their eccentricities."

He was playfully pushed to the side, to which he responded with a laugh and a kick, eliciting a cry of pain from his friend, which only made him laugh harder. 

"You should be thanking me," Kush bemoaned, throwing what was mostly a pillow, or something equally soft, at him.

His retort was said between his laughter and attempts at avoiding the probably cum-stained material from hitting him any further. "Remind me tomorrow." 

"Of course." The words were stretched sarcastically, and with that, their impromptu play-fight ended. The pillow fell between them as they sat almost hip-to-hip, breathing slightly laboured from the quick burst of exertion. 

"Fucking hell, man, I won't lie: I've missed you."

Kush's elbow lightly tapped his side. "Same here."

"But"—Min sat up, his friend following suit seconds later with a groan—"you should clean up your apartment; it reeks."

The jibe came quickly. "Can say the same thing about you, man. When last did you shower?"

In lieu of an actual response, Min struck out with his fist, luckily hitting his friend's shoulder with a meaty thwack, and basking in the loud cry Kush released. 

"You fucker!" 

Laughter bubbled out from his mouth again, forced out abruptly by the insult, before eventually petering down into a grimace. "You are right though," he admitted, shifting away in slight embarrassment. "I hope your bathroom's usable, or I swear to—"

"Yeah, yeah, come on. I'll get some fresh, clean clothes for you, okay?"

"Okay," Min said, a smile blossoming on his face as he allowed himself to be led away to a bathroom he remembered, but could no longer really enjoy.