Dara whistled with the rush of wind pushing his hair off his forehead. Marley barked, bounding after him as far as the leash afforded her. Sunlight showered over the open park in invisible streams, flooding the entire space with rejuvenating brightness. His mood immediately picked up despite the bleary morning routine before he left the house.

He passed the third ice cream cart parked on the side of the park's cobbled road. Like the last two, couples flitted in and out of it. Some carried separate cones, savoring the sickly sweet treats as they walked. Others carried a single, mega bowl which they would share as soon as they found a seat. His stomach soured at the thought. Should they find they have a different mark, let him see how long they would last. And even if they were dictated by nature, Dara would have to see if they would get anywhere with that belief after one of them outright refuses to throw out the trash or do household chores. Was nature known to doom people into lifetime slavery now?

It had been a full year since he and Sam ended. As agreed—rather, instructed by Sam—Dara moved out the next day, found himself a bedspace for the night, and spent the rest of the week hunting for a decent apartment within his pay grade. With his job in the city, he couldn't venture too far out, and he would still have to see Sam in the same places they frequented in the neighborhood.

And true enough, Sam found himself a new boyfriend, one that probably matched more than his wants and needs. Oh, if he was all about marks and shit, that bland dude with an underbite was proof nature did everyone dirty, not just Dara. And since it has been a year, Dara found himself a modest home in the suburbs, got himself a loyal dog and named it Marley, and started exercising. The neighbors were nice, albeit mark-fanatics like everyone else. He thrived more on his own than with Sam. How could anyone think being single was bad? Never did he have so much time that he began picking up various hobbies like baking, knitting, and gardening.

Fate could go fuck itself. Dara was fine being alone, and he was happy. Happier, even.

His soles hit the ground in steady thumps, reminding him that he was still jogging. The warm, summer air kissed the back of his neck as he whizzed across the cobblestones. Sweat hung on his back, arms, and scalp from moving since the first light of dawn. The park's landscapes being the only touch of green in this highly-urbanized city was a breath of fresh air—both literally and figuratively.

Marley's feet scratched lightly against the stones a few steps behind him. After spending a whole year together, the retriever learned to love exercising and going out. Together, they rounded a corner. That was when a sharp clicking sound followed by the lessening tug on the leash wound in Dara's arm happened. He looked down to find empty air where Marley should have been. He skidded to a stop, whirling around to find his dog. Of all times—

There, bounding towards a pair of human and animal playing frisbee. Marley zipped through the frisbee's trajectory, colliding with the dog it was thrown for. Dara got there too late. Both dogs bounced against each other with a series of whimpers and barks. Then, they looked at each other and sank into their front legs, hackles raising. Oh, no.

"Marley!" Dara called in his stern voice, one he only used when the dog misbehaved. Thankfully, the dog was trained enough to recognize Dara's voice and strode towards him. The smaller dog, a fluffy beige terrier, wasn't done. It burst forward before a set of arms reached out and plucked it from the ground.

"Sorry about that," a woman looked up at Dara as she cradled the frantic dog and whispered soothing sounds. Marley circled Dara's legs, tame enough to never start anything more with the other dog. "He's not usually like this."

Dara rubbed the back of his head. Sweat slathered on his palm which he wiped on his pants. Then, he remembered it was dry-fit. Could this day get any worse? "I should be the one apologizing," he said. "My dog got out of his leash and barreled into yours."

The woman chuckled. "It happens, hey," she said. "My Chewie is unusually cranky this morning too. What's his name?"

Dara's eyebrows crept up, glancing down at his dog who sat on its haunches, tongue lolling out the snout as he panted and observed the movements around the park. "Him?" Dara said, crouching to hook the leash back into the dog's vest. "He's Marley. I know, low effort."

He was never one for naming things. That was more of Sam's job, and even when Dara pestered him to adopt, the man never budged. He had been more of a cat person. Dara loved dogs. Had one growing up. So, the first thing he got when Sam cut him off was a dog. Just to piss the man off, but also to heal whatever depravity Dara had developed over the years.

"It's a pretty name for a pretty dog," the woman answered, her bright smile almost rivaling the sun with it. The blond hair hanging in a messy ponytail punching through her white visor could have been its downtrodden rays. "What's yours?" She followed up.

Dara snorted. "Can't believe you asked for Marley's name ahead of mine," he muttered. She chuckled, having heard it apparently. "I'm Dara."

"Page," she replied, sticking a hand out into his personal space. Bright and assertive. Hmm. That was a good combination. If she was intelligent, she would have checked everything Dara looked for in a person. Not that he was looking. Nope. He shook her hand instead—sweat, salt, and all.

She gave the terrier a little sway. "And this terrifying pooch is Chewie." She lowered the dog towards Marley who touched his nose against the wispy fur. Compared to Marley's ramrod locks that shed like crazy, Chewie's thin and wavy coat was paradise on Earth. "Chewie, meet Marley. Marley, meet Chewie. Oh, they're friends now!"

If only humans were as quick to form relationships, there'd be no wars at all.

Page drew up, and a stray breeze blew across the park, throwing the lapel of her open plaid shirt thrown over a sleeveless tank top. A sliver of red caught Dara's eye. Then, when she switched her hold on Chewie, it revealed itself fully. Dara froze on the spot, eyes glued on the symbol of a five-petaled flower with swirling vines. It was familiar, mostly because it was the same one he saw in himself every morning in the bathroom.

Heat rushed into his cheeks when he realized what it must have looked like to Page. He averted his gaze to a nearby gnarly tree. "What's the matter?" Page's voice was tinged more with concern than offense. "Is something wrong over there?"

"N-no," Dara blurted, whirling back to Page who set her dog down, the leash still intact on it. "I just...your rune. Um..."

Page flicked her plaid overcoat to reveal her symbol fully. Her large, brown eyes met Dara's in shock. "Do you have the same thing?" she asked, her mouth forming into a silent o.

He blew a breath and hooked a finger at his collar, pulling it away enough to reveal his left collarbone. It couldn't have been clearer. They have the same mark.

"Oh," was Page's only remark.

He withdrew his hold, letting the skin-tight shirt snap back against his neck. That'd redden later, but it woke him up to the truth of this meeting. Most people would say it was fate bringing them together, but for him, it was nothing but a minor inconvenience.

"Don't make it a big deal, please," Dara said with a sigh, pushing his hair off his forehead. "I'm not looking to get into a relationship now, and I'm quite happy with my life. With being single."

Page hummed. "I get that," she said with a small nod. She inclined her head at him. "Was it bad?"

Without confirming what she meant, he bobbed his head. "You could say that, yeah." He jerked his chin at her. "You?"

"Can't be worse," Page answered, bracing her hips. Her white, short shorts made her resemble the tennis players Dara often saw on television. "At least it's over now. I'm actually glad he broke up with me over having different marks. Makes him a loser in my eyes. We can still love who we want to, regardless of what our skin says. It's just bonkers..."

Dara snorted. "Couldn't have said it better, because I believe the same thing," he said. "My previous boyfriend thought otherwise, and it all devolved into...well, a bad breakup."

Page chuckled. It wasn't out of derision or bitterness. More like...out of nostalgia and empathy. "It's all so stupid, don't you think?"

"You said it." Dara looked at the world beyond them. While most of them looked happy with the arrival of the predeterministic approach to finding one's lifetime partners or something, it wasn't going to solve the most basic problems humanity has. He'd bet his entire emergency fund to say the marks didn't solve anything at all, only added more issues to get over with.

Comfortable silence peppered by their dogs panting, whimpering, and walking around with their leashes clinking. Finally, Dara opened his mouth and the most absurd idea in the history of absurd ideas flitted out of it.

"Humor me on this," he said, earning Page's attention fully. "What if we never become a thing? We can cheat fate and tell it to fuck off."

Page snorted, a smile pulling on her plump lips. "I'm not against the idea," she said. "Not that I think you're ugly or anything—I'm still open to being friends with you—but no romance. I like that idea. Game."

Friends. It was the best thing fate could force upon them both, and that was everything they would let fate force upon them. Ever.

"Nice meeting you, stranger," Dara said with a wink.

Page clicked her tongue. "Get out of here, dumbass."

He was more than glad since he was running late for work and he couldn't take the sticky feeling of his sweat anymore.