Sehun somehow knows since he was little, that there is something different about him. There’s something not quite right about him.

And when he’s at the age where he can understand a bit about the adult world, he knows.

That the Community thinks that there’s something wrong about him.

That he’s different. He’s a freak.

And all because he’s born as a Mark.

Well, one of them anyway.

A Mark is someone with a short writing on their body – a number, like a tattoo and it is a rare thing. The Mark represents the person’s real name. Names they’re born with that’s at the core is theirs only. Every century, at one period of time, Marks will be born and their existence usually ends in such extremities – either really good or really, really bad. For the Community and for the Marks. Their birth can mean Ragnarok and all shall suffer or all shall be purified. Least that’s what Sehun is taught, like all the other children in his community. Marks are to be feared or cherished, to be hunted or to be worshipped all at the same time and when you’re only nine Cycles of age, everything is confusing.

Sehun’s Mark is small and delicate in his right wrist, slanted slightly upwards just beside a vein that he can see when he traces it. It’s written in a sharply fine cursive, black as night, and it says ‘Zwölf’. His Matron says it means Twelve in German. And that means he’s the last Mark to be born. When he’s asked how they know he’s the last one, his Patron says it just is. He’s learned that there were thirteen Marks born in the last century. How can they be sure there’s less a number this time around? It’s confusing, very confusing.

His Matron gave him a wrist-guard when he was six, to protect his Mark and to inhibit his extra abilities. Sehun doesn’t really know what she have meant by the words but when a classmate asks he’ll parrot her words and they’ll nod and leave him alone.

It isn’t until Sehun is ten and he moves to another level in his Received Education that he meet one just like him. A sun eclipse has happened that day and for some unknown reason, Sehun has felt something was going to happen. And something does happen. Their first meeting.

Until now, he’s still not sure how he knows the other is a Mark for sure but the moment their eyes meet something clicks and fall into place.

The other Mark approaches him first, Sehun finally sees the same black guard covering the other’s exposed left bicep, as Sehun timidly shuffles in his place. The other is in his space, towering over Sehun with his lanky form and wild mane of hair. Yet, he doesn’t feel intimidated. All he feels is this unexplainable warmth and sense of belonging. This is where they should be together. He feels a short tug at his wrist, his left one and he’s tempted to say no, you’ve got the wrong one. But words don’t leave him.

“Zehn,” the other has said. And hold out a hand. Ten, Sehun thinks absently and offers his hand in return, exposing his own guard. This is the right one. When their hands touched, it feels like Sehun sees the world as how he should see it all this while. Excitement and adrenaline his fleeting companion.

Instinctively without any restraint, Sehun blurts out.

“Zwölf.”

And they both sigh and smile in perfect harmony and for the first time in life, Sehun feels something is right.

Note: A figment of the author's imagination. This has The GIver's feel to it and I don't know why.