Work Text:
— Mark’s POV
“Hey Taeyong, what’s up?” Mark casually asks, as he enters the small living room of his shared campus apartment.
Mark’s roommate, who was lethargically sprawled along the couch a while ago, is now leaning over on his hands which are propped on top of his knees while staring intently at the television, “Mark, come see this…”
As his eyebrows furrow with curiosity, Mark plops down next to the older, swinging an arm around his broad shoulders. The television is on the news channel, a big surprise since Taeyong usually watches solely cheesy and romantic k-dramas.
The news channel seems to be hosting an interview with a woman, someone named Dr. Park, as the bottom text informs.
“We are here with Dr.Park, who has invented this experiment. Now tell me, is the purge a political device? To control population or something along those lines?” the interviewer hands over the mic to the late-middle-aged woman in a blazer and tie.
“Purge?” Mark questions towards his roommate. Taeyong hushes him without breaking eye contact with the large screen. Mark doesn’t think Taeyong has blinked once since he walked in on him.
“It is a psychological one,” Dr. Park corrects, pushing up her thin glasses. “The Purge is an event, from March 21st to the 22nd, that allows people a release from all the hatred and violence that they have pent-up inside them. If we want to save our country, we must unleash all of our anger in one night.”
Mark straightens up from his position, whipping his head towards his roommate, “What’s going on? What does this even mean?”
Taeyong mirrors his expression, slight fear in his eyes, but all that he returns in a shrug of his shoulders. It is as if the both of them don’t know whether to take this seriously or not.
“What the hell does she mean by releasing all the hatred in one night? What? Are we just going to sue everyone for everything they’ve done? Or kill them even?” Mark throws his hands up in confusion and frustration, a tsk running through his lips.
Taeyong scoffs, “Yeah right, like the government would ever let everyone run around killing each other. They’re dumb, but not that dumb.”
“Hah, that’s true. Homicide is illegal anyway,” Mark remarks with a chuckle. The thought of that just seems like a reach, until the interview continues on the television.
“The Purge allows all crime to be declared legal for a full 12 hours,” Dr. Park explains, causing the two men to jolt up in speechlessness.
“And that would include murder?” the interviewer interrogates with an eyebrow raised. The both of them are so far off of their seats that they might fall to the ground any second, just waiting for the answer to slip off of Dr. Park’s mouth.
“Yes.”
Taeyong is the first to plummet off the couch, while Mark falls the other way, hitting the back of the cushion. His eyes and mouth stay wide open until they both beg for some moisture, but he ignores the dryness while continuing to stare blankly at nothing in particular. There’s a long silence that flies by, even the sound of the interview comes to a stillness as all Mark can hear is the increasing thud of his own heart. The latter stays in the same shocked state on the ground, unable to move or speak.
Mark has no clue how he gained the courage or voice, but after the wave of silence, he is able to mumble, “This can’t be - real, right?”
It takes a while before he receives an answer, seeming as if Taeyong couldn’t find his voice then, “I-I don’t k-know.”
The room goes quiet once more. The air seems to grow colder. Maybe the air conditioner kicked in, but a worrying chill runs up Mark’s spine and he knows it is not just the AC. His brain cannot wrap around the idea of ‘The Purge,’ or any positive results it can achieve.
“What the fuck?” Mark blurts out, hands darting for his hair to tug on it. He returns to his regular sitting position, looking for the older. Taeyong is still laying on the floor, flat on his stomach as his cheeks are pushed up from the carpet. Mark is pretty sure a small pool of drool has formed below his roommate’s mouth and onto the rug from keeping it open for so long. “What the fuck?” Mark repeats, growing angrier with every minute and thought that passes.
“No seriously, what the fuck? This cannot be real. Are they seriously just going to legalize murder? That’s terrorism. They are literally legalizing terrorism. What are they thinking? Are they even thinking? How will this even help people psychologically? This will only further encourage murder,” Mark’s mouth barks on, becoming louder as he speaks. He comes to an abrupt stop as he tries to catch his breath, chest rising up and down frantically.
“It wouldn’t be fake if it was on the news for everyone to see, Mark…” Taeyong finally answers as he rises slowly into a sitting position, leaning his back on the couch as he stares mindlessly into the television screen.
“Ok, but… But no one will actually go through with this right? The killing part at least?” the younger tries to reason with the situation any way he can, “Oh! I know, they said this was a psychological experiment, which probably means that whoever will start to kill and go through with the Purge will probably get arrested. This is a test, not an experiment… It’s to pick out the psychopaths, like spring cleaning or something, right?” Mark is now standing and pacing around the living room as his mouth spews out every bit of explanation it can conclude.
“Wait… that actually makes sense… yeah,” Taeyong concedes, lightly nodding his head as he grasps the whole picture.
“Let’s not worry about it until more information is out,” Mark advises, clicking off the television.
⤧
It has been a whole month since the first announcement of the Purge has appeared on television. After that, the whole world of the internet exploded. Many theorists, scientists, and even regular citizens have tried to debunk the Purge, all resulting in the fact that it is a test to eliminate the criminals of the population. Several researchers of the psychology field and the political field have concluded to the same or similar explanation, and everyone lowered their guards down and returned to their daily schedule.
Which means that the annual 'Fuck Finals’ party is still on the schedule. The whole student body of the university is invited, hosted by one of the most popular fraternities, the Alpha Phi Kappa, in celebration of the couple weeks of freedom before finals.
It is currently 9:54 PM, a notification from Mark’s calendar app on his phone dings, reading “APK Party, Mar 21, 11 PM. Leave by 10:30 PM to arrive on time, traffic is heavy.”
30 minutes? Traffic is heavy? Why the hell do I have to leave so early, it takes not even 10 minutes to drive to the fraternity house? Who the hell is out here driving so late anyway?
He closes his phone and tosses it aside. Taeyong is already at the fraternity house, helping them set up since he is friends with literally everyone on campus. And Mark is also pretty sure Taeyong is interested in one of the members of the fraternity; tall, handsome, built, a total eye candy to be honest. Oh, what was his name again? Jaehyun or something?
Mark rolls out of his comfortable lying position on his bed and shuffles to the bathroom for a quick shower. As he steps into the tub, he hears his phone ring, signaling a phone call, but he decides to let it go to voicemail since he is already fully drenched. It’s probably Taeyong calling to ask if I can bring some more alcohol or something.
As the water runs warm, Mark quickly washes up, both his hair and body, before stepping out to get dressed. It isn’t his first time attending this annual party, he went for both years in the two years he has been studying at the university. Mark knows it isn’t fancy so he throws on a pair of ripped black jeans and a simple baggy grey t-shirt. To style up the outfit more so he doesn’t look like a homeless person, Mark tucks the front of his shirt into the pants. After fluffing up his hair in the hallway mirror, Mark grabs his black windbreaker and stuffs his keys and wallet in the pockets.
Am I forgetting anything? Mark thinks to himself, patting his pockets for the essentials. Wallet… keys… phone- oh my phone!
Mark grabs his phone from his bed, the screen lights up with a missed call and a few text messages from Taeyong.
ty track: hey can you bring some money, we’re gonna bet later on who at the party is a real psychopath and will start killing people haha
ty track: oh also the traffic is really bad, even though rush hour ended like 4 hours ago…
ty track: so leave early
Mark looks at the time stamp on his phone, it reads 11:06 PM. So much for leaving early.
markimoo: lmao i forgot that purge shit was tonight
markimoo: anyway i just finished getting ready i’m coming now
ty track: cool bring money
markimoo: yeah yeah i can read
ty track: see ya and drive safe, people be crazy out there for some reason
markimoo: 👍
Once he exits the building of his campus apartment, Mark now realizes that it is really busy on campus. People in the lobby are carrying bags and suitcases, and outside the exit of the parking garage is backed up too. Mark wonders if they are going on vacation or something, they wouldn’t before finals though, right? Maybe it is for this dumb Purge thing.
It takes Mark forever to drive out of the parking garage, moving a foot a minute. But he is finally able to reach the fraternity house, which is already packed with students. Above the door of the large house hangs a sign that says, “FUCK FINALS AND PARTY BITCHES!”
Taeyong and his friends reserved a parking spot in the back for Mark, thankfully since the entire street is lined with cars, both moving and parked. Mark sends a quick text to Taeyong saying that he is here, but he probably won’t see it. It doesn’t worry Mark, though, since he can probably spot his roommate drunk off his ass, dancing in the crowd because he’s a lightweight when it comes to alcohol.
And Mark’s right.
As soon as he enter the booming house of rave lights and neon lasers, there is Taeyong in the middle of the living room floor, trying to do the worm. Everyone else around him is just as drunk so they think he is doing pretty good. But in actuality, he looks like a fish out of water.
Mark leaves him to his fish dance and heads for the kitchen. To his surprise, it is not as crowded as he thought, probably due to the commotion drunk Taeyong has caused in the main party area. Mark reach for the large cooler adjacent to the kitchen counter of snacks and minisubs for a can of Sprite.
Someone approaches him from the side, picking up a Sprint can as well, “You want me to fix that up with something?”
Mark looks over at the person, whose bright red hair and rich skin looks quite familiar and he guesses it is probably someone from Taeyong’s large friend group. “No thanks, I don’t drink.”
“Well, that’s boring.” And the strange guy walks away with his can of Sprite from the cooler and over to the station full of a variety of alcohol to mix it.
What a weirdo, he thought to himself.
Flicking open the tab of the can, Mark reaches for a red solo cup to pour the fizzy soda into, but another hand also reaches for the same cup in the stack. He retracts his hand just as the other person does, causing him to look to see who it is.
The guy standing next to Mark is tall and charming, his eyes dark as night but shimmers under the fluorescent light. His jet black hair falls over his forehead in a comma-like style, revealing a part of his forehead. He has on a simple zipped up black jacket and sweats, along with his backpack for some reason. A smile spreads across his face, one that can brighten up a dark room, “Sorry, go ahead.”
He motions for Mark to grab the red solo cup and he does so with a small thank you. Mark’s face heats up as the latter continues to smile at him before grabbing his own cup. It doesn’t help that the guy is almost a head taller than him, towering over Mark with his large figure.
“I think I’ve seen you around before, what is your name?” the man begins with a simple conversation-starter.
“I was thinking that too,” Mark points out, he does look quite familiar, “I think we’re in the same psychology class. Anyway, my name is Mark.”
“I don’t think we’ve formally met. Nice to meet you, Mark. I’m Johnny,” the latter greets him with a warm but firm handshake, paired with a friendly grin. The tips of Mark’s ears burn at how handsome and friendly the man is.
“Mark!” he hears someone call him from behind, speech slurring.
“Oh, I have to go treat to my drunk friend over there. I’ll see you around?” Mark gestures with his thumb over his back at Taeyong.
The latter nods, “Oh, you bet.”
Mark turn to walk towards Taeyong (who ruined the moment for him). As he leaves the cooler area, Mark catches one last look at the handsome boy. He sees that he pulls out a paper from the pocket of his zip-up jacket, and from what Mark can tell, it’s an attendance sheet, and highlights Mark’s name. Ok…I guess maybe he’s the TA? I’ll ask him about that later, I guess.
Two pairs of weighted arms flop over Mark’s shoulders from the front. He finds Taeyong anchoring himself onto him, eyes half-lidded and smile lazily tugging on his lips. “How are you, my child?”
Mark rolls his eyes every time his roommate calls him child, “I’m fine, met one of your friends earlier I think and he’s kinda rude. Also met another strange dude just now. Man Taeyong, you have some weird ass friends.”
Taeyong tries to stand up, an eyebrow lifted, “Ok first of all, you’re my friend - so you just called yourself weird, HA! And second, my friends are not rude! Who are you even talking about, kid?”
Turning the older to the side, Mark points to the handsome, tall boy but find that he is not by the cooler anymore. Shaking it off and moving on, Mark then spots the earlier red-haired boy and slyly point towards him, still at the mixing table. Taeyong, however, disregards Mark’s stealthy attempts by shouting out the boy’s name, “Haechan! That’s Haechan, he’s cool but like - hella sassy, so watch what you say to him.”
The boy, Haechan, turns from the table to look at Taeyong, who is waving sloppily at him, and then Mark. He lifts an eyebrow, a smirk stretching one end of his mouth, as he struts over to the two of you. “Taeyong, what’s up?”
“Hyuckie, this is my roommate I was talking about, Mark,” Taeyong hurls an arm around Mark’s shoulder again, knocking him forward. “And Mark, this is Haechan, he’s a student in the class I TA for.”
Haechan pulls a hand from his pocket and raises it up towards Mark. With an inaudible scoff, Mark takes it firmly, resembling a warning and gaining the upper hand. From up close Mark can get a better look at the latter. Haechan is pretty short in comparison to Mark, falling just to his eyes. Mark has to bend his head down to look at him, fueling his pride. Along with his fiery red hair, Haechan’s choice in style and makeup is just as eccentric. Dusted on his eyelids is a shade of burgundy mixed with smudged out black eyeliner. Coating his plump lips is a dark pink tint with a layer of gloss over it. Though, the gloss is smudging off as he takes sips of his drink.
His clothes are pretty standard surprisingly, sporting a black oversized sweatshirt with a print of Michael Jackson on the front and some casual ripped black jeans. Matched with that, he wears a pair of black combat boots that are loosely tied, and Mark might just have to keep an eye on him to catch him falling from overstepping on the laces (maybe even video record it for future blackmail). However, with the casual black clothes, something stands out on top. Around Haechan’s neck is a bedazzled choker, made of a thin suede material. And hanging under that is an arrangement of golden necklaces. His tanned hands are also covered with accessories, with black rings wrapping around every other finger. From his spot, Mark can spot a tattoo peaking form the right side of Haechan’s neck, a large snake tattoo. It seems to run from the underside of his ear to his collarbone. And Mark hates to admit it, but Haechan looks hot as hell with that tattoo.
“Pleased to finally meet you, Mark,” Haechan snaps him out of his stare, smirking as he caught Mark admiring him and his tattoo. “Taeyong tells me a lot about you, it’s a shame we’ve only just met.”
The words Haechan articulates are casual and friendly, but the tone of his voice says otherwise, like in a mockery form.
“Oh, the pleasure is all mine,” Mark flash an innocent smile towards the latter, “though, Taeyong doesn’t talk much about you, I can tell why.”
Haechan’s eyes squint as he bites his bottom lip to contain his quick temper. It is Mark’s turn to smirk cockily. Mark may be an easy target to tease most of the time but something about Haechan riles him up. As an unintentional staring (or should he say, glaring) contest occurs between Mark and Haechan, Taeyong watches with confusion, ping-ponging from Mark to Haechan as the both of them refuse to back down. However, Taeyong is too drunk to barge in like he usually will as the responsible adult.
“Why is the princess so uptight? Are you sure you don’t want a drink?” Haechan snickers without breaking eye contact.
Mark lets out a sarcastic chuckle, rolling his eyes at the unexpected pet name, “I don’t want any, thanks again.”
“What? The little princess doesn’t want to have fun?” Haechan taunts and brings the cup of alcohol in his hand to Mark’s nose, swirling it around tease him with the smell. Mark cringes from the bitter scent of the vodka and push the cup away.
He takes a step towards Haechan, shadowing him under his figure. “If you need something to have fun like alcohol, then you’re the one that’s boring. Sorry I know how to have fun without killing my insides. Also stop calling my princess.”
The corners of Haechan’s mouth points up, but Mark cannot read the meaning behind it.
“Whatever you say, Princess.”
⤧
— Haechan’s POV
“Whatever you say, Princess,” Haechan tilts his head forward, bowing as if Mark is royalty, before he walks off into the party. He catches the last look Mark flashes towards him, a mocking expression with his tongue stuck out. Haechan tries not to laugh at his childish expression, so he rolls his eyes instead, even if Mark cannot see him.
As Haechan exits the kitchen, the heavy smell of flavored vodka and sweat fills the air again and he contemplates whether or not to just talk back into the kitchen where it is free of moist bodies and strange odors. But his pride is just as large as his ego, so he sucks it up and walks to the dance floor.
Just as he starts to sway his body to the beat, a small girl pulls up closer to Haechan with suggestive eyes and heavy makeup that is melting off with every bead of sweat. With a sneer, he downs his drink in one go, tossing the red solo cup behind him nonchalantly and attach his now free hands to the waist of the girl. She seems happy that Haechan complied and starts to move her hips to his.
Haechan’s hands roam along her curves, up her sides and back her back to grab her ass. This prompts the girl to lean forward and take Haechan’s lips into hers. She sucks on them and Haechan audibly groans, not in pleasure but in annoyance as she is ruining his lip makeup. But he doesn’t pull away as there is nothing better to do at this party. The girl’s hands sneak under Haechan’s sweatshirt, clasping needily at his deep skin. Although Haechan has another girl occupied under his touch, he can’t help but think about Mark, and just the way he is not scared to snap at him. He wonders who the tall guy was that Mark was talking to by the coolers. It seemed like Mark was pretty interested in him. And Haechan is confused with why that makes him feel a certain way. Already bored of the girl in front of him, he pulls away with a leer, earning a whine from the latter. She tugs on his sweatshirt, words slurring from her mouth, “No, don’t stop. Don’t you want to come play with me?”
The mewl comes out high-pitched rather than seductive. Haechan’s fox-like grin deepens as he caresses a hand under her chin to hold it up, “Did you really think I would - fuck you? That would be a waste of my time. Though, I don’t think you’d last long anyway.”
He lets go of the girl’s chin, it drops open in both offense and embarrassment. She scurries away with teary eyes but that doesn’t faze Haechan. He doesn’t care. Because he’s already set out looking for another distraction for tonight.
Haechan spots Mark on the other side of the living room, talking with Taeyong and some of his friends. He sees the red solo cup in Mark’s hand, filled with only soda and he scoffs, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek.
Before he can make his way over to Mark to tease him some more, a blaring siren sounds through the entire house. The music cuts to a stop as everyone covers their ears from the deafening noise. Haechan peers around in confusion just like everyone else, looking for answers or an explanation. That is until-
“Everyone, look!” Someone shouts over the alarm, aiming at the flat screen television in the living room. People crowd around to see what the commotion is about and Haechan is glad he is close enough to the TV to see it.
“This is your emergency broadcast system, announcing the commencement of the first purge. At the siren, all crime including murder, will be legal for 12 hours. All emergency services will be suspended. Your government thanks you for your participation.”
The television transitions black even though no one turned it off. The entire fraternity house is dead silent, no one daring to even move a muscle.
Haechan slowly blinks around, seeing if anyone is going to act upon the Purge.
Nothing happens for a good while and just before people are starting to let their guards down, a gunshot echoes through the silence. However, it’s not silent anymore as more gunshots are heard, paired with deadly screams. The whole crowd of students now run around panicked, trying to escape through the locked front door and even jumping out of the windows.
Haechan does not catch who the culprit is in the mess of the living room killing. He freezes and panics by not knowing where to go or what to do. Should I call the police? No, they said emergency services are closed for the night.
More gunshots are heard, closer this time and Haechan finally moves his feet. Laying along the floor are bodies of students drowning in their own pools of blood, a bullet wound in their chest and their eyes lifeless. Tears string along Haechan’s waterline as he leaps over the dead bodies lying on the ground.
Attempting to leave the opened area, Haechan almost slips on something on the floor. He quickly picks it up and hides behind a kitchen counter to look at it. It’s a piece of paper, “Looks like some type of attendance sheet.”
He scans the names, some of them randomly highlighted in yellow. Actually, it is not random at all but highlighted in a pattern. Every fifth person on the attendance sheet is highlighted and the first 10 of them are crossed out with a red market. T-these must be the victims of the shooter!
Haechan looks at the next name and stops breathing. It’s a name very familiar to him, especially after tonight.
Lee Mark.
Mark is the next name highlighted on the list that has not been X'ed out yet. Haechan bites at his hand, debating whether or not to help him. He considers his pros and cons of saving Mark and it seems like the cons outweigh the pros so Haechan plans for an escape out of the murder house. The closest exit is the back door, leading out into the yard and from there he can make a run for it to the nearest building where he can hide. Before he exits the kitchen, Haechan grabs the largest knife he can find, holding it in front of him as he cautiously twists open the door leading to the backyard.
The paper crinkles in the midnight breeze and Haechan reaches to crumble it and toss it away but something jumps out at him. The next fifth name highlighted after Mark’s is…
“My name.”
Lee Donghyuck.
The full real name that he hates being called, printed and highlighted right on the paper in front of him. Haechan turns toward the house, nibbling at his lips.
“If I save Mark, I am ultimately saving myself,” he tries to convince himself under his breath, “Since the killer would have to kill Mark first before getting to me. So, it’s a win-win situation if the both of us stay alive…”
Haechan knows this is a bad idea, the worst idea he has ever come up with. But there is no turning back as he enters the bloodshed house once again.
⤧
— Mark’s POV
Mark’s legs take him up the stairs as fast as they can, skipping over two or even three steps at a time. He can hear rapid footsteps behind him, catching up. Once he reaches the top, Mark quickly pushes down a small counter behind him to block the way. It buys Mark a little time, but the latter easily hops over the tiny piece of furniture. It was Mark’s worse idea to run upstairs where he can get cornered, but he did not have much of a choice as all exits were blocked by stampeding students trying to escape and the murdered has set his next target as Mark. There is nowhere to go but up, Mark thought maybe he can jump out a window because perhaps a broken leg is still better than being completely dead.
The murder pushes Mark against a door, ultimately knocking it open. In a scurried motion, he backs away from him and crash into the wall of the bedroom. Nowhere else to go.
The shadowed figure looms over Mark, completely concealing him in darkness. He loads his long black rifle, pulling back the hammer.
“W-why are you doing this?” Mark quavers, hot tears streaming down his face. It blurs his vision but that does not matter because he cannot see the culprit’s face anyway, as it is covered with a mask of a terrifying clown.
“It’s the purge, baby,” the culprit smirks under his mask, it’s evident in the tone of his voice, “and you’re celebrating with me tonight.”
He aims the gun right towards Mark’s chest and he closes his eyes, ready to accept fate as it is. The gunshot blast sounds through the empty room and Mark lets out a long breath, waiting for the pain to override his body. But there is no pain, at least one of what a gun wound would feel like. With all of his courage, Mark opens his eyes to find the murderer on the ground and another boy hurrying towards him.
“Haechan?” Mark’s voice cracks with panic, not knowing how to act. The latter wraps an arm around Mark’s shoulder to help him up.
Another gunshot.
It doesn’t pierce Mark thought, thankfully. However, he feels Haechan limp besides him, falling to his knees as his arm delinks from Mark’s. He lays on his side, holding his leg as it pours out blood. The culprit gets up, the mask slightly knocked from his face presumably from Haechan’s punch when he came to save Mark. But the mask is still intact to keep most of the culprit’s face covered. There is just something about the rich dark hair that bothers Mark.
The murder strides towards the two, seemingly furious as the gun is brought up again. Mark quickly jumps out of the way before he can shoot it, grabbing the closest thing next to him as a weapon. It’s a lamp, it disconnects from the outlet and he swings the medal stand at the culprit’s head. He falls over, rolling onto his back. It looks like Mark has knocked him out, but he won’t stay down for long.
Mark slides towards Haechan, using a scarf nearby to tightly wrap Haechan’s wounded leg. “Is the bullet still in your leg? I heard that you have to take it out if it is. Oh god, maybe you can do it.”
Haechan stops Mark’s hands before they can roll up his jeans, “No… it went through my leg. The bullet is over there.”
The bullet, now covered in Haechan’s blood, is laying to the right of him. Mark nods and finishes up tying the make-shift gauze, hopefully it is enough to stop the bleeding for now. Mark latches onto Haechan’s side as he leans most of his weight onto his shoulder and the both make a quick escape from the murder house.
Mark thinks he is safer once they are away from the house with the shooter but the outside world is not any better. The streets are filled with terrified students, running around either away from someone or chasing them, car alarms scream down the road with the flashing white headlights causing Mark’s head to spin frantically. The streetlights are also flickering due to the damage of the electrical wires, providing barely any light to see clearly in the midnight darkness.
With the mix of screeching alarms, flashing lights, and dangerous murderers on the loose, Mark’s brain cannot function properly in order to figure out a plan of action. And it is not like Haechan, who is slumping limply in his arms, can think of anything either. However, all Mark knows is that he has to get out of the open road and go somewhere safe where he can wait until the purge ends in the morning.
Haechan coughs besides Mark, but his head is still hanging low, eyes half-lidded. Shoot, he’s losing a lot of blood. I have to find a first aid kit.
Mark moves to the nearest car, helping the injured latter into the passenger seat, in too much of a hurry to buckle his seat belt. Mark is lucky that his father has taught him how to hotwire a car to turn on for emergencies.
Removing the cover of the bottom side of the steering wheel, Mark finds the connectors and pull aside the battery, ignition, and starter wire bundle. A loud blast erupts from a house down the road, the aftermath knocking Mark against the door handle. It adds more to the throbbing pain of his head, but his hands do not stop from starting the car up. Mark connects the battery wires and twist them together before doing the same with the ignition and battery wires. Just as they all twist together, the headlights and radio turn on, emitting a loud static sound. Mark’s eyes widen at the loud noise, fearing others will hear and come for the both of them. Before Mark can react, the radio shuts off as Haechan’s hand pulls back to his head, massaging his temples. “What the hell are you trying to do, shithead? Get us killed?”
“I’m hotwiring a car for an escape since - ya know - you aren’t much help right now,” Mark eyes roll around and with extreme caution, he taps the ends of the starter and battery wires together. There’s a spark of power paired with the snapping sound of the electricity connecting, but the car remains still.
Haechan scowls in the car, “I just saved your ass from death.”
“Shut up, I’m trying to concentrate. You wanna die here?” The latter closes his mouth with an annoyed huff, and Mark continues to touch the ends of the wires together. It sparks every time but nothing else happens. He groans in frustration, heart racing with more time that passes while he is out in the open. Plus, the killer is probably conscious now and searching for them.
And just as he predicted, the door of the fraternity house kicks open and reveals the man in the mask, his rifle loading in his right hand. Bullets start leaving the gun and towards the car as Haechan leaps for the back seat, taking cover below since the shooter is on the side of the passenger seat (which is good for Mark since he has a whole car as a shield). “Hurry the fuck up, Mark!”
“I’m trying dammit.” The sparks become more and more urgent, causing the wires to heat up with smoke. The back of Mark’s eyes sting as they become blurry, Fuck not now, Mark. Please not now. Haechan’s screaming voice echoes through Mark’s ears but they do not make it towards his brain for processing. Yet, he knows exactly what Haechan is trying to articulate as he barks his remarks, eyebrows furrowed, face red, and tears pooling under his eyes.
Come on, come on, come on, “you stupid car!” And with that, the car starts up. Mark drops the wires as they disconnect, not even worrying about the danger of exposed electrical wires at this moment. The killer is now sprinting towards the car at the end of the large driveway, but thankfully, Mark is fast enough to get into the front seat and step on the gas pedal. This doesn’t stop the killer as more gunshots are aimed at the car. Mark gets far enough to lose sight of him though.
“Fuck,” Haechan breathes out and Mark looks through the rear view mirror to find him slumping in his seat. His hands take refuge in his now messy red hair, tugging at the roots before running his black-painted nails through it. “Fuck! What the fuck!”
“Haechan, shut up. We really need to figure out where to go because it’s not safe here,” Mark focuses on the road, his vision returns to normal but that is because the tears have already bled from his eyes. The road is not any easier to maneuver on though, packed with abandoned cars, lumps of fire, and dead bodies.
“It’s not safe anywhere, Mark. Can’t you see?” Haechan throws his hands up in frustration. He is right though, the purge is infecting the entire country, leaving the two with nowhere to run.
Mark dodges a car in the middle of the lane, “Okay, but we can’t drive forever. And we also need to fix your injury.”
“I’ll be fine, just get us away from that insane bastard,” Haechan turns to look out of the rear window. Mark is already miles away from the killer, speeding past 80 MPH on the 35 MPH two-lane street of the neighborhood.
“Do you know who he is?” Mark questions with an unsteady voice, eyes back to the rear-view mirror. Haechan peers out of the window to the right side, Mark can see that his shoulders are shaking. His bottom lip is pinned under his teeth, “No clue, but I found an attendance sheet with both of our names highlighted on it. I think it was for the general psychology class.”
“An attendance sheet?”
A piece of paper jabs at Mark’s arm and he notices Haechan is handing him the said attendance sheet. With one hand on the wheel and the other holding the paper up, Mark sees that it is, in fact, the attendance sheet of their psychology class. “Every fifth name is highlighted. Is this a pattern?”
“I think so, and the top names are crossed out. Your name is next and then mine, so it’s better for us to work together and stay alive,” Haechan mumbles, still gnawing at his lip.
Mark thinks that maybe behind those words, Haechan really meant that he wanted to save or help him. But he knows that he is delusional because the latter despises Mark with all of his being. The adrenaline from the edge of death may be causing his logic to falter anyway.
But Mark cannot help to think why Haechan here. He can just save himself from being killed rather than worry about Mark as well, at least he seems like that type of person. And it is not like he is desperate, since it is Mark’s name that is next instead of his. He has time. Yet, he is here with the most wanted person by the murderer. Mark is about to ask him about it but Haechan cuts him off, “Mark, watch out!”
Marks snaps back to the road, realizing that he dozed off for a moment there. Charging into the road are two people, one of them having their hands around the other’s neck as they throw punches back, trying to get out of the chokehold. Mark swerves the wheel with a sharp turn and with the speed still above 60 MPH, he has no control of the car anymore. It skids across the asphalt and straight into a large tree.
Mark’s head snaps forward from the impact, a piercing pain shooting to the back of his neck. He knocks into the top of the steering wheel, creating an immediate bruise on his forehead. With a groan, Mark carefully lifts his head from the wheel but the pain of the slight whiplash of the crash causes him to clench for his neck. It is stiff and tight, restricting him from moving it in a far direction.
“Y-you okay?” a soft, cracking voice sounds through the silence. Mark had almost forgotten Haechan is also in the car with how much his head is pounding like a sledgehammer to his brain.
“Yeah - you good?” Mark returns, barely able to move to see the latter.
“Yeah….”
The car is completely wrecked, the engine is busted as most of the front of the car is split into two by the large tree. Smoke releases from the hood of the car with a low rumble. “H-Haechan…”
“What?”
“Haechan… Get out of the car now!”
“What the fu-?”
“Now!”
The both of them leap out of the car and stumble away before it explodes into pieces, creating a large fire. It does not help that the fire is right by a big tree as it spreads through the wood. Mark’s eyes widening at the huge fire, branches start to fall from the tree. He blinks around for the smaller, spotting Haechan a couple meters away under the tree. Just as the fiery branch falls right above him, Mark knocks Haechan to the ground. A pair of arms tightens around him before they pull him up to the sitting position.
“Are you crazy, Haechan? Why didn’t you move?” Mark begins to bark at Haechan now. His hands, that were encased protectively around his waist, now grasp his shoulders and shakes Haechan out of his daze.
“What…?” Haechan murmurs, blinking a couple times before witnessing the large fire in front of him. “Oh shit.”
“Yeah, oh shit indeed,” Mark scoffs, scanning his surrounding. “We have to get out of here. That killer may come for us now.”
Haechan nods and stands up but winces to the side, thinking Mark might have not seen it. But he did, “Haechan? Your leg is still hurt, we have to get to somewhere safe where you can rest.”
It sounds like he mumbled a “whatever”, but Mark does not pay much attention as he wraps an arm around him to lead him away.
“Those woods, there’s a shortcut through them that leads to the dorms,” Mark points to the dense woods area that separates the sorority and fraternity houses from the campus. Before entering the woods, Mark turns towards Haechan, reaching both of his arms around his small shoulders. Haechan’s breath hitches as Mark pulls up the hood of Haechan’s sweatshirt, resulting in a puzzled reaction.
“Unless you want your firetruck red hair to be a beacon for killers, then I suggest you hide it,” Mark mocks, tugging at a strand of his vibrant hair. Haechan grumps, whipping his head to the side and Mark chuckles.
The woods are full of tall oak trees lined one by one, closely planted and every other looking the same as the last. To a new college student, the woods is a place to avoid because one can get lost quickly in there. The tall trees also block most of the sunlight, so it is always dark within the woods as well. However, for students who have been around for more than a year, they have discovered that the woods is a center point of the entire university.
To the north are the society houses, which is a community of large white-pillared houses for the sororities and fraternities. To the south are the dorms, separated into tall 10-floored buildings by the years. To the east are the classrooms where the classes are held, different buildings for different courses. Lastly, to the west are food courts, cafeterias, and extracurricular activities. It is sort of annoying having to walk around the woods to get to the cafeteria after class for lunch or drive across campus and have to find parking again, so some people walk through the woods to get to where they need to be. However, there aren’t many people who are brave enough to travel through the woods. Which is a good plan during the purge because many people avoid the woods anyway.
However, the woods feel alien this time; the air is misty and dense, no light to lead the way. Even though Mark has walked amidst these tall trees multiple times for it to be programmed into his muscle memory, Mark starts to panic as he begins to lose the usual path. There should be a large rock coming up, the accustomed halfway point, however, he has not seen the said rock. It feels like the two of them have been walking for miles, even though the woods only stretch out for 2 or so miles.
“I hope you know where the fuck you’re going because we passed that fallen log three times now,” Haechan groans from Mark’s side, eyes glaring harshly, but once he catches onto the mask of fear washed upon his face, Haechan’s expression softens. Mark’s eyes are pinned wide, pupils shaking as all color drain from his complexion. Beads of sweat form on his forehead, eyebrows knitting together as his head whips towards all directions to observe his location. Haechan’s hand rubs up and down Mark’s back gently and it jerks him out of his unnerved trance. Mark finds the latter’s soft brown eyes scanning his, as if trying to find the right thing to say in this situation (which doesn’t seem like his strong suit). “You…okay?”
Mark’s lower lip takes refuge between his teeth, “yeah - I think dorms are that way.”
Without another word, Mark helps Haechan towards the direction he motioned to. But in actuality, Mark has no clue if that is the correct route.
A loud bang sounds from behind them, causing a flock of birds to fly from the trees. The both of them drop to a squat at the sound of a gun.
“Is that-?”
“How the hell did that bastard find us?” Haechan stands up, tugging at Mark’s jacket, “We better fucking hurry.”
Ignoring the pain clouding his head and the strain of his body, Mark runs as fast as his legs can take him, Haechan not falling far behind. The gunshot sounds far behind, maybe at the start of the woods, but that doesn’t mean that still is not a threat. Still, how did the shooter locate us? Was it the car? Or maybe the big explosion from the crash that lured him here. Whatever the cause is, Mark hopes the effect will not lead to death.
As if the heavens granted Mark one positive thing in this horrid disaster, the midpoint rock comes into view a couple of yards in front of him. With a hopeful smile, Mark know exactly where to go now, signaling for the latter to follow him. The dorms are not far from here, if them keep running then they will be sure to reach the end of the woods in 5 minutes or so.
Mark takes a sharp turn at a tree that marks the three-fourths checkpoint. Almost there…
Just as his feet directs him around the large tree, Mark crash into something, a tree? No, I swear this is where the turn is…
Mark falls backward and Haechan almost crashes over him with the speed of which he was running at. The unexpected collision sends a piercing sting to Mark’s head, but he is able to stand up eventually. Once he is on his feet again, Mark’s vision blacks out and static-like stars fill your view. He reaches out to steady himself, hanging onto Haechan’s arm. Slowly, the surroundings come back, and Mark sees Haechan standing slightly in front of him, both hands tightening into fists. A scowl appears on his face and Mark follows his line of sight to find another person, seemingly, the one Mark crashed into.
The stranger appears not to be the shooter as he does not possess a gun or the Halloween clown mask. He only has on a white medical mask that covers half his face. However, Mark still does not let his guards down even if the guy in front of him is too small, too scared to do anything. The guy stands frozen in his place, eyes dilated and glassy, looking as pale as chalk.
“Who the hell are you?” Haechan speaks first, breaking the chilled silence. His snarling tone frightens the latter, he takes a faltering step back. “Answer me!”
“I-I,” the stranger stutters, his voice is just as shaken as he is, “Please… don’t hurt me.”
“We don’t want any trouble here,” Mark warns, and just as the other is about to reply, he cuts in, “Wait, are you - Renjun?”
The latter jumps in shock, “How do you know that? W-who’s asking?”
“It’s Mark, you probably don’t know me, but I was in your general chemistry class when you were the TA and I asked for help preparing for the final,” Mark explains, the hand that is grasping Haechan’s arm draws him back. He straightens up, but his face is still scrunched with a frown.
“Oh… I think I remember you,” Renjun pushes up his glasses for a better look.
“You’re a med student, right?”
“A med student? He looks 12.” Mark slaps Haechan’s shoulder with a glare. Renjun nods, eyebrows arched.
“I’m sorry he was so hostile earlier but - my friend here has a bullet wound, can you please help us?” Mark motions to his leg, still wrapped up by the scarf. He overhears Haechan mumble something along the word “friend” in a questioning tone, but he doesn’t pay much attention to it as Renjun seems hesitant upon his request.
After a moment of consideration, Renjun agrees, “Okay, I’ll try my best. I’m just a student after all… I’ve never dealt with a bullet injury.”
“Why are we wasting our time here, Mark? I told you I’m fine,” Haechan growls, eyes squinting in anger.
Mark ignores him, “We were just heading to the dorms, but where should we go to help Haechan?”
“The dorms are fine, I have some kits in my room that may help,” Renjun tells him and the three of them head towards the south.
⤧
Renjun pushes open his dorm room door, making sure to lock it behind him and shoves a large wardrobe over to block it from intruders. His dorm is in a different section than Mark’s. Instead of the large dorm buildings where undergraduate students stay, Renjun lives in a dorm complex of one or two floored apartment-like homes. Mark remembers from Renjun’s self-presentation in the general chemistry class that he is some type of intelligent prodigy, starting undergrad in biology at the age of sixteen. Then, he graduated with a bachelors in bio in just three years. Now, he is starting grad school and studying towards his masters.
That’s probably why he gets to stay in these larger and more luxurious homes.
Haechan groans as Mark lowers him onto Renjun’s bed. It is a good thing Renjun lives in a one-story apartment because Mark does not think Haechan could have climbed any stairs with his injury. He has already overworked it while running through the woods, Mark is surprised the scarf is not drenched with blood.
“I have to sterilize these tools, it’ll take a while. I have water in the mini-fridge and food in the pantry. If you need anything, I’ll be in the bathroom,” Renjun announces, holding up his large medical box.
Mark nods and grabs Haechan a bottle of water, of course he has a mini-fridge here too.
“Here,” Mark hands the bottle over as Haechan sits up to lean his back on the headrest. The bed dips as Mark takes a seat on the edge. It is the first time tonight the both of them have a place to rest.
He mumbles a quick “thanks.”
“Do you think… we lost him? The shooter?” Mark whispers, fiddling with his fingers.
Haechan sets the bottle atop the nightstand and runs his hand through his bright red hair, “I don’t know. But I sure hope so.”
“Right,” Mark tries to assure himself, nodding along. His view drops to the floor, eyes drowning in distress. A hand is placed on Mark’s and he looks up to find Haechan smiling. It is a sincere smile, not one of his smirks or snarky grins. He gives Mark a light squeeze of encouragement, his thumb running over his hand.
Mark has no clue why it is comforting, the steady glide of Haechan’s finger, the warmth he exudes with his smile. His eyes twinkle with the dim light from the lamp next to the bed, it shines upon his skin, causing his dark skin to glow gold.
Haechan leans closer to Mark, gnawing at his lower lip, “Mark, I -.”
The bathroom door opens and Renjun enters the room with his kit, “Okay, I’m done.”
Haechan pulls back to the headrest at the sound of the latter, hand jolting off of Mark’s and connecting to the nape of his neck. The sincere smile fades from his face, replaced with an annoyed frown. I wonder what he was gonna say…
Renjun unwraps the scarf, tossing it in the trashcan and picks up a pair of scissors, but Haechan pulls his leg back with a look.
“I need to cut your pant leg to stitch it up,” Renjun explains, reaching for the jean leg. Mark places a hand on Haechan’s shoulder and he relaxes at his touch. The older proceeds to cut Haechan’s black jeans just below the knee, throwing that into the trash as well. With gloved hands, Renjun brings a warm wet towel to wipe off the blood, careful not to swipe with too much force over the opened wound.
“Mark, can you open that textbook to chapter 23, please?” Renjun uses his chin to motion to the book on his desk.
“Wait, you need a textbook? You don’t know what you’re fucking doing?” Haechan shouts, teeth baring.
“Well, I know how to stitch an opened wound, but I need to make sure my procedure is correct,” Renjun explains and flips through the pages, studying the content. “Besides, I told you, I’m a student, not a real doctor.”
Renjun sterilizes the stitching needle once more, beginning to sew the wound closed as Haechan winces silently.
Once the purge ends, then Haechan can get this professionally healed but for now, we have to make the blood stop pouring out, or stop it from getting infected, Mark thinks to himself, pouting slightly at every discomfort Haechan has.
It doesn’t take long for Renjun to stitch the wound close since it’s just a penny-sized hole. He dabs over the injury with a towel once more.
“Do you smell that?” Mark whispers, nose tilting towards the air. A foul smell fills the air, it’s fumy. Renjun breathes in but ends up coughing due to the smell. However, it is not just the smell anymore, the air also seems eerie.
“Why is it so smoky in here?” Renjun quavered through coughs. Haechan pushes up from the bed, swinging his legs over the edge.
“It’s a fire!” Haechan points to the bathroom, bright flames climb up the walls. “Water, use the shower!”
Renjun reaches for the shower head, turning it on to extinguish the fire. But to no avail, as the raging flames just roar back, taking over the bathroom before spreading towards the main room.
Soon enough, the fire alarms sound, blaring through the night. The smoke thickens and now has become visibly black. The three of them dip down towards the ground, hiding their noses behind the hem of their shirts. Even through the fabric of Mark’s shirt, the suffocating smoke still makes its way to his lungs. It has become harder to breathe as there is less oxygen in the air. Mark’s eyes burn from the large orange flames that have taken up a majority of the dorm, causing them to water.
“We have to get out of here!” Mark croaks, shuffling towards the door. With both of the boys helping him, the wardrobe falls over with a loud thud before being consumed by the fire. The door is finally opened, and they all scramble out. Mark falls to the floor on his knees, leaning over his hands as he coughs up the smoke from his lungs, trying to intake the oxygen that was deprived from him. Haechan and Renjun do the same, fighting for fresh air.
Mark’s vision clouds up from the lack of oxygen, and he tries to stand up and remain balanced. His head feels twenty times heavier as it tints to the side, and like a weight pulling him down, he falls with it. Mark waits for the ground to connect with the side of his face, but a pair of arms links around him and keeps him in place. Mark is about to mumble a thank you, thinking it is Haechan or maybe even Renjun, before he blinks back into existence and see that it cannot be the two boys because they are on the ground in front of him, looking like deers caught in the headlights.
That is when Mark’s expression mirrors theirs as he struggles to detach himself from the sturdy pair of arms, however, they tighten around him. Mark reaches back to punch his way loose, doing anything at this point to break free but ripping off only his mask as if falls to the floor. Mark would have continued to fight for freedom, that is until a cold metal is pressed against his right temple. Mark stiffens at the sensation, mouth lacking moisture even though it is closed.
“That’s it, love,” a low voice echoes by his ear, voice muffled by his hair. The tip of the handgun softly caressing Mark’s jaw, pulling back a strand of hair. Goosebumps rise across his skin, following the trail the gun is creating. It returns to its original place on Mark’s temple, pressing harder at the side of his head.
It clicks a second after, “Stop!”
Haechan is standing now, about to charge at any moment. His red hair falls over his face and almost covering his eyes. But Mark can still tell that he is terrified to death, as his knees shake with fear and his face wet with newly fallen tears.
“Hae- chan, don’t,” Mark tries to say, only choking up on his cries, a film of water over his eyes.
“Oh, don’t worry, Haechan,” the shooter mimics, snarling his name. “I’ll deal with you next.”
Before anyone can respond, a bullet leaves the head of the gun, emitting a blast that sounds through the empty streets. Mark feels the warmness of a thick liquid slowly waterfall down the side of his head, it sinks into the crooks of his ear, spreading to the front of his face as droplets of red coat his eyelashes. All Mark can hear is the ringing of the loud blast of the gun. Through his bleared sight, Mark sees Renjun on the ground, yelling as tears stream down his face. Then, right next to the smaller is Haechan, also shouting but Mark hears nothing at all. Haechan bolts towards him, a fist in the air ready to collide with the shooter in fury. Except, he doesn’t make it though, dropping to the ground with crimson.
Another blare of the gun, another bullet through the flesh.
And Mark’s vision entirely blacks out.
⤧
— Renjun’s POV
Renjun sits and leans on his hands as he scurries backward, away from the murder. His back hits something, a wall. It blocks him from any escape, he is screwed.
In front of him lay both of his friends, eyes opened and staring at each other, but lifeless. The two bodies drown in a pool of their own blood, staining onto their clothes and skin. The viscous red liquid is still running down the side of Mark’s head, already painted over most of his face. Right in the middle of Haechan’s forehead is a hole that bullet had driven through, leaking with fresh blood that matched his hair.
Renjun trembles as he tries his best to channel movement back into his legs, urging them to stand up and sprint through the woods to freedom. However, they remain frozen and numb, the only movement is the endless quivering of his boneless legs.
The now-uncovered murderer looks up from the two dead bodies, the hood of his zip-up jacket falling back as a roguish chuckle leaves his lips. His mouth spreads into a wide smile, a charming smile if not for the taste of death and destruction behind it. He trudges towards Renjun, the gun loose in his hand.
“No…Please, I’m begging you,” Renjun pleads, eyes prickling with tears. His breathing becomes more rapid, more shallow. He feels his ribs heaving as if bound by ropes, straining to inflate his lungs.
The gun raises just above Renjun’s nose, “Sadly this fun game is over with, only one name left on the list.”
The piece of paper stained with blood and dirt falls to the floor from the latter’s other hand. The gun cocks in place and shifts away from Renjun. In that instant Renjun’s skin becomes gray, his mouth hangs with his lips slightly parted and his eyes are as wide as they could stretch. He watches with staggering pupils as the killer brings the handgun so that it faces himself. “Be sure to share my story, pretty boy. It’ll be one hell of a tale.”
And with that, the head of the gun is pushed into the shooter’s mouth by his own hand and he falls to his knees then forward on his face just as the bang of the gun fills the still air. He lands just by Renjun’s shoes, a puddle of blood already spreading through the concrete.
Renjun slowly reaches for the paper, a trembling hand unfolding it. The list looks like an attendance sheet, highlighted and X'ed off by every fifth person. The only name that’s highlighted but not marked off is the last one,
Seo Johnny.