Archive of Our Own

Thursday, April 21st, 2016. 7:05 AM. The Beginning.

There’s a sticky substance running down the walls of the kitchen. There are recalls of gunshots in the air, followed by heavy breathing and a panic that rips through the chest and throat. There are sirens outside, parole getting back on the clock, a door swung open.

And there’s an eighteen-year old college student standing in the middle of it all, a deadly hatred rising within his heart.

🏴‍☠️

Friday, April 19th, 2024. 9:03 PM. The Dunes.

Bae Jacob's heart is pounding.

It's not usually pounding— but he’s out in the muted desert, the heat of the waves burning his skin with every roar of the fire. He’s pouring heat retardant along the edges of the brush, watching the horizon as the flames burn closer and closer. Juyeon is right beside him, mask on, pressing a comforting hand to his back as Jacob takes another deep breath in, nearly tripping over the dead branches. Dune vegetation in Sinduri is a newer threat, more common in recent years.

“You breathing okay?” Juyeon’s voice is muffled. Jacob doesn’t respond, only nods.

Five years ago, if you had asked Bae Jacob on who he intended to be, he’d answer “firefighter.” One that saves people, rescues them from burning buildings and homes whose faulty water heaters have left everything to rubble; one that retrieves terrified kittens from trees, becomes a hero for the family next door.

He’d always wished to make people smile, wanted them to see life in a better view, to appreciate the good things. Until the years dragged on; he realized very quickly that these efforts were futile. The violence that took the streets, the greedy politicians that crowded the national assembly—  revealing an undisclosed desire within human nature, one that erased the urge to ever be looked upon as a hero; there would be no heroes in a world destined to burn.

He’s been in the dunes for a week, called out on a fourteen-day excursion to put out fires in Taean County, away from the bustling city streets and crowded apartment buildings of seoul. Escaping everything he’s ever known is the best way he can deal with the reality of how he lives— switching to a wildland firefighter brings him more peace than being near people ever did.

Chief Sangyeon is at the frontlines, motioning for the crew to back up as far as possible, predicting the flames to explode on their end. Jacob doesn’t feel the flames nor the insects nipping at his skin. He’s on autopilot and there’s only one thing on his mind.

Purge night.

Jacob knows his trip is short-lived, ending the moment they chase away the fires. They’ll pack up their tents, wipe off their blackened cheeks, get into the van, and drive three hours back to the city. They’ll get there at midnight, enter their homes, double-check their security systems, and peek out the windows with shaky fingers clutching their chests. Some will sharpen their weapons and leave them by the door, some will hold parties with music blaring at max, and some will stare at the screen until the dreadful hours are up, praying that everyone they know will remain alive and full of color the next day. Only a handful of countries have taken to the holiday that the States began, the rest of the world choosing to hold its peace.

Jacob has learned to stop questioning the world as he knows it.

His legs are jelly when they’re back in the van. He’s sandwiched between chief Sangyeon and Juyeon, both resting their heads in the crook of his neck. It's too warm and stuffy, the van lights are suffocating him, and it's terribly, terribly quiet.

He looks down to the stained charcoal on his hands, the dirt caked underneath his fingernails. The whirring of the engine is tempting him with sleep, but his mind is awake with all things horrid, all things evil.

“Are you going to stay inside this time?”

Juyeon had asked this a week ago, at the beginning of their excursion. An earnest question with a curious smile playing on his lips, one that made Jacob’s skin crawl.

“I always stay inside,” he had answered, doing his best to redirect the conversation into something much lighter. It didn’t work.

“You don’t have fun, huh?” Juyeon had chuckled, popping gum into his mouth. “Sangyeon hyung likes to fuck around outside every year. Says it's relieving his ‘work stress’ or whatever. Personally, I think he’s a dick, but we all have our reasons to run wild, I guess.”

Jacob knows he meant nothing by it— none of his coworkers were violent people. But the casualness in his voice had shocked him, made his heart sink to the pit of his stomach.

 “I don’t want to hear it, Juyeon. I just don’t,” Jacob had whispered with a frown, the other immediately backing out of the conversation and running a comforting hand through Jacob’s hair instead. He whispered an apology under his breath.

The topic had been neglected for that full week, energy being poured only into clearing brush and monitoring the yellowed skies. Jacob was thankful that his friends ceased to discuss the matter, especially knowing the kind of history he had with the annual holiday.

One year his neighbor had broken into their home, desperate for the family heirloom. The shock on Jacob’s young face as he recognized the features of their friend— the stranger in the kitchen, threatening his father’s life as if he didn’t baby sit Jacob years beforehand. The desperation that called for betrayal, the complete disregard of relations and bonds built over the years. Trust wasn’t enough, Jacob had learned.

Despite the racing thoughts, he drifts off to sleep with sweat pooling over every inch of his body, the warmth making it difficult to stay awake any further. His dreams are quiet and peaceful, likely because his friends are pressed up against him— shooing away the nightmares that sometimes plague his thoughts.

He awakens when it’s dark again, when the windows are pitch black and they’ve arrived at the Seoul station. He knows that it’s Saturday evening, less than twenty-four hours away from the purge. His team had hoped the fires would rage past then, saving them all from having to return to the city and be subjected to the dreaded day. But the fires had died down, and Jacob realized taking the job had been totally pointless, now that he had to fortify his apartment. 

The air is cool on his skin, making the ends of his hair stand up as goosebumps form along his arms. Sangyeon and Juyeon are already up, brushing away the dried bits of dirt on their faces and gathering their belongings from the van floor. Jacob stretches his arms and peeks out the car windows, breath hitching at the boarded-up windows and high-security alarms covering the entire block of his neighborhood. He takes a deep breath and follows his friends out the doors.

“Are you good to walk home alone?” Juyeon asks, half-heartedly slinging an arm around Sangyeon’s neck. 

“Yeah. I’m good.”

“And Cob— stay safe, okay? I heard Changbin came for Hyunjin last year. You remember how he was out for fire season, right? Refused to say what happened. Rumor has—”

“Juyeon, please,” the soft desperation in his voice is enough to shut Juyeon up, lips pressing into a thin line as he bows with a quiet apology. Sangyeon gives Jacob a sympathetic look and throws a glare at Juyeon.

“Call us if you need anything, Cobbie. We’ll be around. Stay safe this year, yeah? Everything will be fine,” Sangyeon offers a smile and Jacob returns an equally fake one.

The first thing Jacob does when he reaches his apartment is shower. He doesn’t bother locking the door, instead haphazardly throwing his camping supplies against the base of it and ripping off every bit of charcoal-caked clothing on his body. He ignores the ringing coming from his phone and the commotion outside of his window. He knows how it goes: purge eve, where the planning begins— when he can hear each and every lock click into place. 

His phone doesn’t stop ringing when he exits the shower, immediately snatching it up in annoyance. His features soften, however, when he reads the caller ID. 

“Hyung, are you safe?” Eric’s voice is gentle and inviting, like a big warm blanket that Jacob wants to ease into.

“I’m alright. Are you?” Jacob whispers as he digs through his closet, pulling out a baseball bat and a worn taser, placing them right next to his door. He takes one look outside and locks it, deadbolting it shut.

“I’m good. I’m with Younghoonie right now. His security systems have been malfunctioning. Are you okay with spending the night alone tomorrow?”

“Is he…safe?” Jacob says with uncertainty. He trusts his best friend, but Younghoon is a new addition to Eric's roster.

There’s a boisterous laugh on the other end, Jacob pulling his phone away and wincing at the sound of it. “Hoonie?! He’s the most non-threatening person in the office. He’s kind of cute, too. And if he tries to kill me, I’ll just pretend to be scared.”

“Are you sure about that?” Jacob catches a flurry of colorful lights in the corner of his eye, drawing his attention to the window before him. His neighbors are lighting up all kinds of things as people pour into the apartment with chaos.

“He’s fine, I’m serious. Nevermind him, I know you don’t like spending the purge with other people but this year…this year I’m…worried…”

Jacob violently shuts the blinds and plops onto the couch, throwing his head back with a groan.

“Why?”

“Check the news, Cobbie.”

With hesitance, Jacob switches on the news and cranks up the volume, fearing whatever it may be. He’s right to fear— newscaster Lee Felix is cackling in the background as a peculiar clip plays over and over on the screen. A man dressed in all black, an exclamation point on his mask, and a weapon belt full of everything deadly. Jacob doesn’t know where in town it's happening, or what year they pulled the clip from; the man is fending off a group of strangers from two helpless ones, effortlessly hurling them back and allowing the two victims to escape without any bloodshed. He isn't sure which country the clip originates from. It doesn't matter.

“Looks like we have heroes on the loose,” Felix laughs heartily, his co-star, Shin Ryujin, following right after. “Hey Buddy! Don’t forget you can’t save everyone!”

“Eric, what is this?” 

“You haven’t heard?” 

Jacob’s eyes are locked on the screen, following every movement of the stranger, even if it's the same clip each time. He ignores the cunning remarks from the newscasters and tries his best to make out the features of the stranger, one who refuses to grab from the objects cinched around his waist. Eric’s voice pulls him out of the stupor.

“They call themselves ‘incognito.’ Some anti-government vigilante group. Hunted down for the past five years or so— a real national threat. In the government’s eyes, they block people from harnessing their true nature of violence…which you and I both know is bullshit,” Eric says, ignoring Younghoon’s “they’re bad news, Jacob-ssi” coming from the back.

“Oh,” is all Jacob can say, doing his best to handle the content on his screen, the contrast of Felix’s smile and the popular purge clips giving him immediate whiplash. 

“I think they’re pretty cool, personally. Younghoon doesn’t seem to agree, however. But anyways, tensions are like— really high this year. With the whole election in 2022 and this new group…you know— I just worry for your safety, Cob. I know you don’t want anyone with you but just this once, would you please spend it with me?”

Jacob knows Eric’s heart is pure and full of love— he knows that his best friend would do anything and everything in his power to keep him alive. But he also knows that spending the purge with others puts them in danger, too. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if anything happened to him. Eric, a child of powerful politicians in favor of the purge in multiple countries. Eric, a man with everything at his feet— all the riches in the world, who ran away with a different ending. One of peace and virtue, one of rebellion.

“I’ll be okay. You know me. You know that if I really need you, I’ll ask for you,” Jacob assures, flipping off the tv. There’s a large sigh from the other end of the line.

“Alright. At least I tried. Call me before it starts tomorrow, okay? And keep me updated on fire season. We have to hang soon.”

“Right. Love you.”

“Love you.”

And for the remainder of the night, Jacob scrolls through video after video of the mysterious masked men, wondering— truly wondering, if fighting back is worth it.

🏴‍☠️

Sunday, April 21st, 2024. 5:45 PM. Purge Night, Year One.

Jacob doesn't do anything Saturday.

There’s only so much he can do to his apartment, knowing full well his cheap security system won’t benefit from any upgrades. He knows that he can’t bring himself to sharpen any weapons, either. Pacifism runs too deeply within his veins. He sits in to consume hallmark movies and watch the hours tick by, hoping that the quietude will last through the twelve hour period in which peril will strike. 

And now the dread is hours away, the reality beginning to sink in as the noises outside his apartment ramp up tenfold. He can hear laughter, loud footsteps making their way to the third floor above him, sounds of soju bottles being popped open, music being cranked to the highest volume. He peeks outside, watching as kids no older than sixteen make their way across the street, boasting weapons he didn’t even know could land in the hands of a child. They should be studying for entrance exams, not gearing up for murder. There’s too much celebration, too much ruckus, too much joy for a night that will ruin many.

6:00 PM

The tv is on again, and Lee Felix is all smiles. He’s excitedly rubbing his hands together like a sick fly, one ready to dine on the rotted remains before him. From any first glance, he could be a friendly, sweet, loving man. But instead he lives for the violence, breathes it, drinks it in like its last supper. Newscasters are always nepo babies, born to live safely and affluently. Australia, Felix's home country, was the fourth one to become victim to the purge. 

6:30 PM

There’s a text from Juyeon, wishing him all the best. He’s going out to a party to relieve his stress, and Jacob hopes to god he can trust his friend to be harmless and safe, to not be the reason someone wakes up harboring tragedy. Sangyeon’s text comes right after, and Jacob assumes they might be spending the holiday together. The clock has never been so loud before, and he suddenly wants to take the baseball bat and smash it into a million little pieces, anything to get rid of the sound.

6:45 PM

Cheering outside, bottles clashing against the pavement, torches lighting up the skies. It’s all too much, and Jacob wonders if it's worth it to even stay awake. He wishes he's out on a mission, hosing down the trees with gallons of water and shooing away the endangered wildlife. He wishes it was the nineties, where the purge didn’t exist, where he didn’t have to be born into a world like this.

6:55 PM

Lee Felix is giggling, replaying clips of some of the best moments from last year, things that should never be broadcasted on the internet— to the masses. The fear-mongering strikes anger in his heart, but he knows he’ll never act upon it. The cheering is getting louder, and the clock is getting deadlier. The anxiety is bubbling in his throat like it wants to spill out all over the floor, wants to devour him whole. He can’t look towards the window, he doesn’t want to see the lights from his peripheral. He doesn’t want to see the havoc. The newscasters are bouncing in excitement, and Jacob Bae is clutching his phone against his chest.

“This is not a test. This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the annual Purge sanctioned by the South Korean government. Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for twelve continuous hours. Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7AM, when The Purge concludes. Blessed be us all, good night, and good luck.”

The alarm sounds, and Jacob lets go of a breath.

Cheers erupt from above him, screams from outside, the tv going completely silent. Eric is calling him, waking him from dissociation. He answers with shaky fingers, running over to hastily close the blinds and double check that the door is locked and sutured together. He makes sure his keypad is disabled, unable to be manipulated from the other side.

“Cobbie? Safe? Talk to me.”

“Safe. Green light. Everything is fine here. Just…shaken. It’s so much more…so much more lively this year. What’s it look like for you?”

“Parties down the block…I’m hoping it's just parties. Hoonie hasn’t tried to kill me— yet. But he’s eating all my ice cream, so there’s that.”

“Don’t even joke, Eric.”

He can almost hear his best friend put hands up in defense. “Sorry, tryna lighten the mood here. I think we’ll be fine this year. Sounds pretty quiet from your end.”

“It’s a shitshow. Too much yelling, I’m going to be sick.”

“Your upstairs neighbors, right? They always go hard.”

“Terrifying, Eric. Terrifying.”

Jacob sinks down onto his couch and stares at the static displayed on the tv screen, not bothering to switch it off. The sounds outside are not getting any quieter, and he knows he can’t stay on the phone with Eric all night. He can hear Younghoon blabbering about something in the background and Jacob wonders how he’s able to power through with so much positive energy.

“You call me if anything happens, you understand? You know I have the resources to get you out of shit.”

“You know not to waste them on me.”

“Anything for you isn’t a waste, Cob. Come on.”

Jacob shakes his head and looks over to the door, eyes lingering on the bat he’s never used. It’s menacing and lonesome, he wants to put it back in the closet.

“Promise me you’ll call every hour?”

“Promise. I’ll be fine. Keep Younghoon safe…or keep yourself safe from him, or whatever.”

“He’s watching Bluey. I think I’ll be fine. Love you?”

“Love you.”

And just like that, the phone call ends. His safety net hangs up, and he’s left to wallow alone in the apartment, sounds of distress drowning out the inside thoughts. Jacob opts to sit by the window, to monitor the nightlight— to put in some effort to keep himself safe. He knows Eric will never forgive himself if he doesn’t. 

The silence is too much. Jacob turns on a Ghibli movie soundtrack playlist and tries his best to focus on the noises coming from his phone, and not outside his window. Efforts are futile, however, and the phone slips out of his hands, hitting the floor with a defeated thud. He abandons window-watch, dozing off into a slumber that may cost him his life.

🏴‍☠️

Monday, April 22nd, 2024. 3:39 AM. Purge Morning, Year One.

Someone is screaming.

It’s too close for comfort, too personal to be a partygoer. The rest of Jacob’s apartment is dead silent, the playlist long past finished. He bolts upright, realizing in a panic that he’s slept through half the night. He checks his phone immediately— four missed calls from Eric and a drunk text from Juyeon, both very much alive.

There’s a bang at his window, and Jacob jumps to his feet, whipping around at the sound. Someone has backed up against it, breathing heavily with panic laced within their voice. Lost with what to do next, Jacob clutches his phone and stumbles back towards the front door.

“Please…let me go.”

The voice is faint, but he can still hear it clearly. 

“I’m sorry…”

There’s hesitance in the other person’s voice, something telling Jacob that neither of them want to be in this situation. The stranger is still pressed up against his window, frozen in fear. 

“I can’t afford to die…not like this.”

Jacob’s heart twists in an uncomfortable way, something within him switching on in an instant. He yanks open the closet door and throws on a puffy jacket, slipping into work boots and shoving the police-grade taser into his pocket. He curls fingers around the baseball bat but lets go for a second, lips pressing into a thin line as he stares at the metal. He fights the feeling and closes his fist around the handle until his knuckles are white.

Taking a deep breath, Jacob undos the deadbolt and gingerly steps outside, a cold breeze immediately hitting him as his breath fogs the air. He can still hear the party raging from upstairs, innocent people oblivious to the events happening below them. Shouting still haunts his ears, coming from all directions. The neighborhood is anything but quiet and to themselves; bile rises within his throat. 

Jacob’s feet move before his common sense, bringing him to the other side of the building where the stranger is still against the window. He hops the fence, immediately hiding behind a trash can when he sees him, chest heaving up and down in rapid fashion. 

His fluffy brown hair is disheveled and his cheeks are bright red, eyes wide in terror, half of his face concealed by a mask— but he’s not hurt. The assailant is standing above him, holding a weapon that Jacob can’t quite make out, but he too, refuses to move. Jacob doesn’t realize he’s making noise until the attacker snaps his head towards him, making direct eye contact with a sickening expression on his face.

“I can see you, you know.”

Jacob stumbles out from behind the trash can, heart racing in pure fear. He’s clutching the bat and hiding it behind his back, begging the gods he doesn’t have to use it. He wants nothing more than to grab the stranger against the window and pull him inside. He doesn’t get the chance, however, as the assaulter moves quickly.

“I can’t…I can’t have witnesses to…to this.”

“You don’t— I won’t tell. Crime is legal, it wouldn’t matter who I told.”

“I can’t be caught doing this to my own people.”

His own people?

Jacob looks between both strangers, realizing in horror that they probably know each other. He motions for the disheveled boy to run, to get out before he can be hurt. And he does, immediately scurrying onto his feet to leave the premises, hopping over the fence and taking himself far, far away from the scene at hand.

Jacob is left with the stranger in front of him, someone he’s never seen before, someone who probably leads a simple life just like him. It’s haunting, and something inside him wants to stay and negotiate, wants to understand things a little bit further.

“You have no reason to hurt me. Go now.”

“I don’t. But I did have a reason to hurt him. You’ve ruined this— you don’t understand I…that was an assignment, I can’t leave empty handed.”

Assignment?

The man can’t be any older than him, by the looks of it. He’s concealed by a hoodie and Jacob can only make out the curve of his eyes, too sad to be violent, too full of regret. He steps back while the stranger takes one step forward. Jacob’s eyes widen when he sees that the weapon in the assailant’s right hand is an axe, one that’s inching closer and closer to his being. It rises higher and higher in the air, Jacob being too paralyzed with fear to inch back any further.

He’s close, so close to danger when something causes the man to stumble backwards, the weapon sliding across the cold ground. Jacob chokes out a sob as someone else enters the picture, someone covered in all black, someone with an exclamation point printed on their mask.

Recalling Eric’s words, Jacob slaps a panicked hand over his mouth. The mysterious hero cuffs the attacker as he writhes on the ground in anger, rendering him useless with one swift motion— one that’s absent of aggression. There’s no violence, no swinging, no blood.

Jacob watches in confusion as the man leaves the attacker to scream on the ground, the dangle of weapons hanging off his belt with an uncanny similarity to the ones he saw on screen. Jacob is barely breathing, the sounds around him not properly registering.

“You’re not…gonna…hurt him?” He says, surprised at his own confidence to speak.

“No. That isn’t my goal. I don’t kill, either.”

The voice is shockingly soft and sweet, sending chills down Jacob’s spine. He can’t understand the gentleness laced within the tone.

“Then…what…?”

“You should go.”

“You can’t just— you can’t just save my life and then tell me to go?!” He breathes out, shaky words that end with a single tear sliding down his frozen cheek.

“I can. And I will.”

Calm, everything about him is calm. He’s changing the atmosphere, making it safe, making it serene. Jacob’s head is racing, and all he can think about is how to thank the stranger, how to repay him in any way possible.

“What is your name?”

“Just call me New.”

“Your… real name?”

Jacob swears the man is smiling behind the mask, eyes glinting with something friendly. They’re soft and gentle, twinkling with hope, with undeniable sweetness. There’s tufts of pink hair peeking out from the black beanie concealing most of his forehead. There’s something poetic about the contrast.

“Don’t worry about that. This is what I do best.”

And he’s gone.

Silence. Jacob blinks once, blinks twice— catches his breath, wipes away the tears, lets the baseball bat clatter to the floor. Sounds of cars, sounds of animals, sounds of neighborhoods alive with fire and flames, sounds of screams. Is he in shock? He can’t quite tell.

Something is telling him to run, to move his feet, one foot in front of the other— get back to your apartment before you become a statistic. Sprinting with fervor, tripping, stumbling, sputtering. Jacob snatches the bat, throws himself back inside, peels away his jacket, slams his door shut, deadbolts it so hard the metal clangs. Clutches his chest, slides down the door, buries his face in his hands and sobs. 

Bae Jacob has been trained for unimaginable tragedy. Death, suffering, loss, destruction. He’s been trained to keep a straight face and a steady hand, a comforting smile and a sane mind. But nothing could have trained him for something like this. Silently crying, he dials Eric’s number with shaky fingers, wiping the tears off his phone.

Beautiful. His eyes were beautiful. He looked like everything the purge is not— safe, kind, inviting. Jacob thinks about pulling that mask back and drinking in his features, thinks about what it would be like to know this person in the flesh. He wants to reach out and grab him, wants to save him in the same way. 

“Cobbie?!” Eric’s is breathless on the other end. “Jacob, why didn’t you call me? Fuck, I was so worried. Did something happen?!”

Slow, strained breaths. Jacob can barely form words. He’s shaking so bad the phone is ready to clatter to the floor. 

“Jacob?!”

“I’m okay. Alive. Breathing.”

“What happened?! Did you get attacked? Did you leave the apartment? Jacob, why would you leave the apartment?” Jacob's insides curl as Eric reads him like a book.

He clutches his phone and puts it on speaker, pressing his back against the door, unable to move from the ground. “Someone was ready to die outside my window, Eric. I couldn’t let him.”

“So you left?! Jacob!”

“I chased off whoever was trying to kill him but I…” he cries again, covering the surface of his phone with tears. “I was nearly dead, Eric, nearly dead. But someone— that group — the black-masked strangers…” he tapers off to wipe a stray tear from his nose. “He looked like he belonged to them.”

Eerie silence on the other end. Jacob hears the clock again and wants to tear it from the wall.

“Incognito?” He whispers. “Jacob…?”

“He didn’t even hurt him, Eric. He just pushed him off, incapacitated him. He wouldn’t tell me his name. But he had pink hair and pretty eyes. I need to find him, Eric. I do.”

“You need to breathe, Cobbie. You can’t look for someone that the government wants dead. You can’t put him or yourself in danger like that.”

Jacob takes a deep breath and realizes he hadn’t thought about this before. Finding New could be detrimental to his safety— could even be detrimental to Jacob himself. He isn’t special; New could have left and saved a dozen lives after him. He didn’t look at him any differently, didn’t find him worth knowing. Maybe he doesn’t feel in the same way civilians do. Maybe he loves the thrill.

“I can’t live knowing I won’t be able to pay him back. What kind of person would that make me?”

“It’s what he does, Cobbie. It’s what he does.”

Jacob slowly rises from the ground and takes one look at the metal bat before violently throwing it back in his closet, hiding it with jackets and shoes. He stashes the police taser right alongside it and locks himself in his room. Eric is still on the other line, keeping him sane, keeping him calm. He can hear Younghoon in the background snoring away.

“Can you come over tomorrow?” Jacob asks, voice low and desperate.

“Of course, Cob.”

He doesn’t hang up. Jacob places his phone on the nightstand and keeps Eric on the phone until the morning light floods his room.

🏴‍☠️

Monday, April 29th, 2024. 12:34 PM. The Local Café.

“Pink hair, boba eyes,” Eric says, sipping on bubble tea. 

They're still decompressing, recovering from purge news and catching up with all the people they love. Who did they know that passed? Whose families were peeled apart? What things were destroyed in the blink of an eye?

He’s sitting next to Younghoon, across from a shaken Jacob. He’s rubbing comforting circles into Jacob’s arm. 

“Pink hair. Boba eyes. Soft voice,” Jacob repeats, staring blankly at the steaming cup of jasmine tea in front of him. He’s wearing Eric’s hoodie and breathing it in; it’s comforting.

“Sounds dreamy. No other indication of who he was?”

“Nothing. Untraceable. None of the google images reveal the faces of Incognito.”

“Cobbie, did you think they would?!”

Jacob sighs and wraps his hands around the hot mug, slowly bringing it to his lips. “I want to thank him in person.”

“He’s probably in hiding,” Younghoon says, half-paying attention to the conversation while on his phone. He has little interest in the topic at hand, holding the sentiment that Incognito should not be messed with. “The government is probably at his throat.”

“What if they hurt him?” Jacob asks, eyes wide.

“Then they hurt him. There’s nothing we can do.”

Jacob doesn’t respond, only sips his tea. He looks to the front of the café, where a broken window is in the process of being patched up. The owner is painting over indents in the walls and rewriting the menu signs. He looks outside to see a father and a daughter walking hand in hand, an unreadable expression on their faces. The world claws at regaining normalcy.

“There was a protest this morning,” Eric breaks the momentary silence. “Near your complex.”

“I heard it.”

“People got hurt, Cobbie.”

“I know.”

“It’s too risky. You can’t look for him until things die down.”

“Things will never die down, Eric.”

Younghoon gives them a brief look of concern before his eyes return to his screen. Jacob is rarely embroiled in awkward silence with his best friend. 

“There’s a purge support group on saturdays, you know,” Eric speaks up. “Thought it could be good for you. After what happened and all.”

“Support group?”

“Group therapy for affected victims. You can share your experiences there. Maybe one of those people have seen the same man, maybe some of them have a past with Incognito.”

Jacob purses his lips and shifts his attention to the outside world. It’s not half bad of an idea. “Will you help me look for him, Eric?”

His best friend draws in a breath and sighs. “I can try, Cobbie. But fly below the radar. Don’t ask too many questions, don’t google too many searches.”

Jacob nods and finishes his tea.

🏴‍☠️

Saturday, May 4th, 2024. 10:00 AM. Purge Therapy Support Group.

“My name is Jacob. On the 21st of April— purge night— I was attacked by a man with an axe, and saved by a member of Incognito. I was not hurt, but I don’t know how to deal with the memories that plague my nightmares.”

He’s honest, straight to the point. He feels eyes burning at this skull; sad, tormented, melancholic gazes that peel away his layers and pick at his bones. He’s vulnerable and soft-spoken, in denial and hopeful.

“Hi Jacob,” the room says in unison, monotonous. History of death is laced within their tones, loss on their faces. Jacob hates this.

It shifts to the person next to him: a boy with light brown hair, staring blankly at the ground. He looks to be Jacob’s age or maybe a little bit younger. He looks too sweet to be hurt like this.

“My name is Haknyeon. I was almost murdered purge night until—” he hesitates, eyes darting around the room, barely skipping over Jacob’s frame. “Until someone saved me.”

“Hi Haknyeon.”

He gives a weak smile and briefly looks towards Jacob, a little glint of fear in his eyes. Jacob offers a gentle smile and a civil nod before refocusing his attention back to the room. Choked sobs and strained voices reverberate around the empty gymnasium, one person after the other sharing their stories with bloodshot eyes.

He’s doing it for the information, doing it for a crumb of traceable evidence. He’s doing it for New. And every time he doubts himself, falls flat with confidence, he’s reminded of the pink hair and spellbinding eyes, reminded of the way a stranger went out of their way to make sure he stayed alive the next morning. It’s swallowing him whole.

The session tires him out, runs his patience down even further. His social battery is draining, eyes far too fatigued to cry anymore. The words of these strangers are too much for his heart to handle; he can’t seem to shake away the weakened pleas of a nation in peril. But he forces himself to listen to each and every anecdote, analyzing every detail and description.

It takes two and a half hours for everyone to finish telling their stories. It’s nearly one pm, and he yearns for the comfort of his own bed. He’s halfway out the door when someone snatches his wrists and pulls him behind the bleachers of the gym, causing panic to rise in his throat. Tight grip, hands clammy. Jacob looks at the culprit.

“You,” is all he says. Jacob immediately recognizes him as Haknyeon, the boy sitting next to him. His eyes are wide and glossed over. He looks like a mess. Jacob shakes out of his grasp.

“M-me?”

“You…you were there. That was you.”

“What are you—”

“You were the one that saved me,” Haknyeon whisper-yells, quieting down as someone brushes past his shoulder and out the door. “I…I left you alone. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You couldn’t have possibly known what to do in a situation like that.”

“You could have died. How did you not die? How did Incognito get to you first?” His eyes remind Jacob of New’s, innocent and sweet.

Jacob shrugs and slumps against the wall. “I don’t know where he came from. All I know is that he must have been watching from somewhere. He was so quiet, Haknyeon-ssi. So quiet.”

“I’ve been doing research,” Haknyeon whispers. “But we have to get out of here first. There’s no way I can say any of this in public.”

Jacob looks at him with a certain degree of fear. “What have you found?”

“Enough.”

🏴‍☠️

Saturday, May 4th, 2024. 8:45 PM. Jacob’s Apartment.

“We don’t know who founded them,” Haknyeon says, flipping through a torn-up folder jam-packed with loose papers, all of which are crumbled and scribbled upon. “I’ve been searching for months.”

“Who do you work for?” Jacob asks, though it comes across as aggressive. He’s still weary of this stranger in his home.

“I work in tech. Don’t worry, I’m not a pawn for the government. I am, however, a major target.”

“A major target? Is that why someone was out to kill you?”

Haknyeon sighs, eyes trained on a particular paper in front of him. “Someone in the company has ties to Incognito. Someone has been broadcasting their warning messages. Whoever tried killing me knows who I am and is probably threatening everyone who works with me, even if they don’t truly know who’s leaking the messages.”

“Do you have any enemies?”

“Not that I know of. But what I do know is that it’s easy for the government to find weak-minded civilians to do their dirty work for them. Can’t say I blame them— not when their lives are on the line. Sometimes their families.”

“Mm,” Jacob nods, shoulders relaxing. He doesn’t trust Haknyeon quite yet, but feels as if he’s halfway there.

“There was another protest this evening in downtown Seoul. It was ugly,” Haknyeon whispers, showing Jacob a piece of paper with a grainy member of Incognito on it. There’s no possible way to make out any details of his face, but Jacob notes he lacks the pink hair. It’s not New. 

The stack of papers full of CCTV photos aren’t any help to them, either too grainy or too black. Jacob doesn’t quite know where Haknyeon is getting these sources from but chooses not to ask.

“I heard. There’s a rumor that someone tried assassinating the president during purge night. Were you aware of that?”

Admittedly, Jacob has always done his best to avoid politics. He isn’t interested in making the world a better place anymore, not after the irreversible damage that’s been done to it. He isn’t interested in doing what he knows he can’t achieve, knows he can no longer make a difference. But something in him feels as if it’s turned over a new leaf— charged by the same image over and over and over again.

New in his mind, New in his hopes.

“I wasn’t. Did anyone die?”

“No, but many got badly hurt. There were a few members of Incognito defending people. They got away before authorities could get to them.”

“Any of them with pink hair?” Jacob asks, a pathetic amount of hope in his voice. To his dismay, Haknyeon slowly shakes his head.

“There’s too many of them, Jacob. I don’t know that you’ll have any luck with finding him so soon. Not when he’s already in danger.”

Jacob nods, refocusing his attention back to the pile of papers on his dining room table. He sits down and stares at them, reads them all thoroughly. He checks for names and dates, addresses and workplaces— looks for any kind of anagram that might suggest the real name of his target. Nothing. No crumbs, no trace, nothing. Things fall flat again, and he asks Haknyeon to leave his apartment. 

Brandished in his thoughts and the center of his ceiling when he tries to sleep at night.

New.

🏴‍☠️

Thursday, August 8th, 2024. 3:34 AM. Eric’s Apartment.

The noises outside are deafening, reminiscent of the ones that haunt his memories.

Jacob is staring at the screen with his mouth hanging open, pure horror etched onto his features. Eric is sitting right next to him, gripping his arm with fervor. The scene is unraveling far too quickly for their minds to follow, far too quick for them to drink in. It’s unreal, too rushed, too evil.

It could be the equivalent to a public execution the way the victims are standing with their hands tied behind their backs, men in black holding them side by side with an iron grip. The newscasters are cackling like sick freaks at the sight, guffawing with indescribable joy. Jacob’s heart is being torn open to shreds.

Two members of Incognito are at the disposal of the government, faces revealed for the world to see. Kevin Moon of Canada, glaring vehemently with a scar across his eyebrow and Kim Younghoon of South Korea, an unsuspecting office worker from Seoul. Shock is an understatement; Bae Jacob's friend is on screen, meeting his demise.

“Did you know?” Jacob croaks out, placing his hand over Eric’s in an effort to comfort him. “You had to have known, Eric.”

“I…” he tapers off, eyes watering. “He hated Incognito. He thought they should be abolished. How stupid was I to believe that someone like Younghoon would be against radical change,” he whispers, covering his face with his hands.

“That was a clever cover,” Jacob whispers in a shaky voice. “No wonder.”

“Do you think he’ll be okay, Cob?” Eric is usually happy and boisterous, loud and confident. But right now, the tears brimming his eyes are enough to kill Jacob’s hopes and dreams. Lost, destroyed, devoid of that sweet, sweet laugh and glint of friendliness.

He can’t answer the question honestly, as they both know the probable answer. The government is too nice to kill off those of opposing groups, opting to torture them instead. Sweet Younghoon, at the hands of the people he tried so desperately to overtake. Another riot will prove his point.

“Let this be a warning,” Lee Felix smiles on screen, a sickening amount of joy in his tone. “Let this be a warning to those who choose to defy who we are as a nation. You will be the poster child for karma.”

The tv switches off, and Eric buries his face into the crook of Jacob’s neck. His heart is angry, driven, vengeful.

 Jacob has never been interested in politics. 

🏴‍☠️

Monday April 21st, 2025. 7:00 PM. Purge Night, Year Two.

The world hasn’t changed much, not to Jacob's surprise.

He’s still a wildland firefighter, still too frightened to be anything else. But his teeth are a little sharper, heart a little more brandished. His weapons remain dull and untouched, but this time sitting on the outside of his room instead of inside the closet. Time and time again, he thinks about using them, but is reminded of his morals.

There’s a rumor that Incognito’s hideout is somewhere near the church downtown. There are talks of an underground tunnel system that haven’t been used in decades, crumbling and useless. Jacob will do anything in his power to get to that tunnel— despite Haknyeon’s warnings, despite Eric’s pleas. He’ll do it, he’ll do anything.

The alarm sounds, his tv goes static, his mind jumps into fight mode. He’s going to do it— he’s going to leave the safety of his home and break the tradition of staying inside. He’s going to ignore the warnings of the riots, the assassinated politicians, the leaked messages on the internet, the fear-mongering of the government. He’s going to ignore it all.

It doesn’t usually rain during the purge, but this night he can smell the petrichor. He’s dressed in an all-black outfit; black jeans, black shirt, black mask. He almost looks like he could be an Incognito member himself, missing the weapons belt and the elusivity. He walks quickly in the brisk air, clutching the phone in his pocket and praying to god this isn’t the leadup to his demise.

The police taser is the sole thing he swore he’d carry, pocketed only because Eric begged him to bring it. It feels unnatural in his pocket, cold and heavy. He knows where he’s going— knows the way to the abandoned place of worship, cracking white walls and silenced confessions fallen to Satan’s pull. Perhaps this is his way of repenting.

His face glows with the heat of fires raging next to him, but flames are the only thing that don’t scare him. He can look them head on and let them burn his corneas without moving a single inch. Purge-goers give him calculated looks yet don’t seem to be bothered, too distracted with staying alive themselves. Jacob has never once looked this intimidating before.

Sweet, soft-spoken, gentle Jacob— parading the city with a newfound distaste of the world he lives in. Powered by someone he’s only spoken to once, someone who’s hidden features he’s tried to construct in his mind; maybe a pink, curly head of hair and long lashes with heart-shaped lips. His heart pounds with anticipation and fear.

The church is just as unassuming as he’d imagined it to be: no neon lights indicating vigilantism, no intact doors with legible writing, no windows that can be peered through. And for a brief second, Jacob thinks he may have stumbled across the wrong destination. But he perseveres anyway, debris cracking under his feet as he makes his way through the door frame. There’s a lingering smell of mold and rust.

There’s nothing in the main entrance but broken down chairs and bits of drywall that haphazardly cover the floor. Loose nails and chipped wood drag at his ankles but his eyes are focused on the multiple doors that surround him, half of them caved in. He chooses one where a preacher would be, pushing it open as it gives way to a dark hallway. Jacob briefly thinks about supernatural threats, stifling a laugh— ghosts aren’t the scariest thing about this night. 

He traverses the hallways with careful precision: looking behind cabinets, pushing away bookcases, peeling back rubble. Nothing. Despite the crumpled and lifeless atmosphere, there’s a working clock somewhere near the doorway that feels like it’s mocking him. 

Tick Tock. Tick Tock.

You’ll be a statistic.

Of course it was a rumor— how could he have possibly fallen for that? A church is all it is: a place of worship lost to sinful times. He steps out with frustration, running a hand through his hair and racking his brain to recall bits and pieces of what Haknyeon had told him.

“They separate in pairs most of the time, bring walkie-talkies. They spread through the city with different checkpoints. You’ll never catch them stationary.”

Jacob fingers the taser in his pocket and narrows his eyes at the expanse of land before him. Screams in the distance are no longer enough to make his heart clench, concentration has set in too far. One foot in front of the other, Jacob blindly moves forward.

He’ll make his way back to his apartment and tell Haknyeon that finding someone so far-fetched was a stupid idea— that spending a year on a masked stranger should be the very least of his ever growing worries. He’ll tell Eric that someone else will have to fight for Younghoon’s name, tell him that he isn’t fit for things akin to violence.

He almost does. 

Brakes screech to a halt— footsteps pound against the pavement, panicked voices in hushed whispers, sounds of guns being cocked back. He isn't even sure how people are getting their hands on guns in the recent years, as they're highly regulated weapons. Jacob freezes, wrapping the hoodie closer to his cheeks and darting behind the nearest trash can. He listens; multiple people talking, a line of fast cars, flares being lit up in the sky. The commotion is enough to indicate that perhaps this is his demise.

He peeks out from where he’s hiding, eyes squinting at the bright flashes of searing red. Then he sees them; black-jacketed, black-masked, black-shadowed, running in a staggered line. The white exclamation points are fully on display, plastered on the backs of their hoodies as they find themselves sprinting away from where a rogue vehicle is weaving in-between a series of spike-traps. Jacob has never quite seen anything like it. He isn’t as afraid as he was last year, too desensitized by violent crimes and stories from those whose lives have been ripped apart. He knows they can’t see him yet, suturing his body to the pavement.

There are at least ten members of Incognito that are heading in his direction, avoiding the car that is pummeling towards them. Someone is trying to shoot from inside, bullets barely missing the members; whoever is shooting is grossly inexperienced. Somewhere deep down, Jacob doesn’t believe that a single member of Incognito would fall victim to something as silly as poor aiming. And he’s almost right.

Ironic, that someone with a heart of pacifism holds the notion of fight over flight, jumping into action as soon as it presents itself. The vehicle gets too close, swerving towards the trash can Jacob is hiding behind and barely nicking it. At the same time, the stranger in the passenger seat shoots— Jacob holds his breath as he watches a stray member of Incognito move to dodge it, sending himself flying through the air. But it’s not enough, Jacob can see it’s not enough. In one swift movement, he reaches out and fists the hoodie, yanking the man back behind the trash can as the car hurdles forward, barely missing the curb. 

Jacob can hear the sounds of footsteps carrying on far ahead of him, members running for their lives as bullets continue to ricochet off buildings in front of them. And for a few moments, the night is as still as a pond. And when he closes his eyes, he can still see the brightness searing his eyelids. 

He’s holding a stranger in the palm of his hands, clutched against his chest, one that clings onto him with the grip-strength of a boulderer. White knuckles cinched around Jacob’s shoulders, head buried into the crook of his neck, legs intertwined with his own, radiating with pure heat. Jacob blinks, doesn’t move, doesn’t speak.

A few minutes go by before the stranger pulls away from Jacob’s body. He smells expensive, a mix of Chanel and maybe Gucci— Jacob makes a mental note. Someone with money? Slowly but surely, Jacob pushes himself off the ground, the stranger still nestled between his legs. He’s taking shaky breaths, the hoodie still hanging low enough that Jacob can’t quite get a glimpse of his eyes.

Until he does. And for a brief moment, the world stops.

It’s him. Jacob is absolutely sure of it— tracing every little feature that’s been burned into his retinas. Those beautiful, gentle eyes; wide and full of fear. Too pretty to be full of fear, Jacob thinks. He has black hair this time, curled to the ends and flowing out behind the mask. Jacob wants so badly to pull it back and paste the image on the corkboard of his thoughts.

“Are you hurt?” He croaks out, hands gently hovering over the stranger’s body, scanning for patches of blood. Thankfully, no dark spots present themselves. He draws in a deep sigh.

“I’m alright,” the stranger whispers in an impossibly sweet tone. “Are you?”

“I am,” Jacob responds, perhaps even softer. Their breathing syncs up as they stare at each other in silence. 

“New?” Jacob throws a stone into the water and waits for the ripple.

The masked man widens his eyes and nearly jumps back, stumbling out of Jacob’s lap. Immediate regret floods his system. A desperate hand shoots in New’s direction, begging him to close the space between them once more.

“You remember me?” He whispers, sliding farther and farther away.

“You are forever fossilized in my thoughts. You are the reason I am alive.”

And admittedly, Jacob feels a bit embarrassed to be so poetically upfront, spilling Shakespearan words while the world around him catches embers. But he doesn’t know how long their time together will be, if they’ll ever cross paths once more. Perhaps it’s fate providing him a chance to give a proper thanks to this beautiful stranger before they never see each other again.

“You…” New starts, slowly crawling back towards him. “You’re the reason I’m alive.”

And against all odds, Jacob cracks a smile. An ironic, poetic, just smile that transfers to New. They share a giggle and a mutual sense of understanding. It’s cathartic in a way, and Jacob wonders what he’ll do when he never sees this man again. 

“We should get out of here. Should you catch up with the others?” Jacob asks, peeking out from behind the fallen trash can and checking if the coast is clear. When he confirms their safety, he outstretches a hand and feels the electrifying effect when New takes it. Soft, how could those hands of justice be so soft?

“We can’t band together when we’re being tracked. I have to lay low until the morning,” he responds, moving closer to Jacob’s body. That dizzying scent is so terrifyingly attractive; Jacob feels as if he’s going insane. 

“Who was tracking you?” He knows it’s illegal to ask, but he wants to be embroiled in this man’s problems and tribulations. He wants to be there, wants to live them, too.

New purses his lips, visibly debating on whether or not he should spill his secrets. But he opens his mouth, anyway. “They’re onto us. We didn’t get very far tonight, not with whoever the government is sending out. Behind on quota.”

“You have a quota for saving people?”

“Something akin to that, yes.” 

Silence, fear, caution. Jacob can tell that New can’t fully trust him, not yet.

“You shouldn’t be asking me questions. I can’t answer all of them,” New warns, yet the tone is soft. “I trust that you don’t have any ill intentions but I can’t be sure that one day you will.”

“I wouldn’t do anything to put your identity in jeopardy. I’m on your side, I swear. How could I not be? You saved my life,” Jacob pleads with his eyes, pleads with this stranger to believe him.

“Mm. I appreciate your honesty. But you must understand that there is a risk to be seen with you.”

“I understand that. But please. Stay with me. Please, let me stay with you. You can’t be alone out here without the rest of your members. Plus, can you truly save someone when you are being watched?”

New purses his lips and lets go of Jacob’s hand. “I can’t let that stop me.”

“At least take me with you. I don’t think I could ever properly repay you, but I can try.”

“You already did,” New whispers. His tone is so honeyed, so full of melody. 

They’re in a stalemate for a few minutes, only fleeting glances exchanged. The tension is palpable, Jacob can taste it in the air.

“My name is Jacob. My real name.”

“Thank you, Jacob.”

In a split second, another car passes, just as brandished as the other one— metal-lined, bulletproof, braced with defenses. Jacob pulls New back down with him, wrapping arms around his torso and hiding his frame with his own. He tries to ignore the beating heart against his chest, pounding with fear and adrenaline. This time, he holds on tighter.

“You can’t save people like this. You have to let me come with you,” Jacob pulls back, splaying a hand against New’s chest.

He watches the vigilante take a deep, shaky breath. “Okay. Stay by my side the whole time, alright?”

“I’ll cover your back, I promise.”

And with that, Jacob slowly rises from their entangled position and grips onto New’s hand with fervor. Somehow, it’s the most natural thing he’s felt in years. New doesn’t protest the physical contact, simply lacing his fingers with Jacob’s and following in suit. 

They dive behind every alleyway and every dumpster as each branded car shines their way through the city streets, patrolling the asphalt and searching for any members. And every single time, Jacob inhales the sweet scent of New close to his heart.

It’s only been three hours, but Jacob thinks that their night might last a little longer. Out of his own selfishness, he hopes it lasts a little longer. He wants to ask a million questions, wants to bother New with the information he’s gathered over the course of a year. He wants to spill thank you over and over again until his lips are cracking. He wants to do all of that and more.

When it hits four am, they find solace in the local park, darkened by trees and a lone swing set. They hide behind the brick walls of the public restroom, sitting side to side with their backs against the wall. It’s too much to process, too little words spoken; they spent long minutes darting in-between passings of blood-thirsty vehicles and angry searchlights. Jacob takes a deep breath and faces his new companion. 

“Can you tell me how long you’ve been doing this?”

“Years. I’ve been here for years.”

“Even before the first year Incognito made their appearance?”

New nods, though Jacob knows he can’t say much more. No single bit of personal information can be spared tonight.

“I looked for you,” Jacob murmurs, though he figures he shouldn’t. “I’m sorry.”

The stranger shakes his head.

“Don’t be. I’d look for you, too. Many people search for us. They tell us we owe them their lives, but I owe my life to the people.”

“It won’t last, will it?” Jacob says, hope glistening in his eyes. He’s silly to even mutter these words.

“It needs to get worse before it gets better. Perhaps, once the ugly part is over, the blood that has been shed will be worth it in the end.”

“Why don’t you kill anyone?” Jacob blurts out, hoping it doesn’t strike a chord. Even behind the mask, New appears to be smiling.

“We all have our reasons, whether they’re evil or not. There’s no rest for the wicked in this world, but empathizing is the first step in solidifying your place in Incognito.”

“I have no urge to kill, no urge to be like those who do. But hurt if I must,” New continues, playing with the hem of his hoodie. “I don’t like these weapons, Jacob. I don’t like that this is what defines me on camera.”

“It doesn’t. I know it doesn’t.”

“You know it doesn’t. We are an anarchist group to those who don’t see past the brainwashing. There’s not much else we can do to change that narrative.”

There’s a light breeze that freezes Jacob down to his core. He thinks for a moment, recalls being on Eric’s couch when his best friend realized the reality of what it meant to fight for freedom. 

“Did you know Younghoon?” He asks, lips trembling in the cold. New looks at him with great sadness.

“I did. Did you?”

“He was so unassuming, so clever. He pretended to hate Incognito, tried steering us away from their mystery. He’s terribly missed. Do you know…what happened to him?”

New looks towards the sky and presses his head against the brick wall, squeezing his eyes shut. “I pray that whatever they do to him doesn’t ruin his stance on the world. And if he’s passed, I pray for whatever awaits him in the afterlife.”

A cricket croaks, an animal skirts by the bushes, a car alarm blares out. “If they torture him, I hope he comes out alive after this is over. Because there won’t be another exit for days.”

Without thinking, Jacob gingerly offers his shoulder for New to lay against, hoping to transfer the warmth of his body. New is shaking alongside him, knees knocking together as they shiver against the wall. He takes the invitation and snuggles closer, tickling the hair on Jacob’s neck. The moment of peace is enough to convince Jacob that everything is worth it. Even New’s hair smells pretty— like roses on a dewy morning. And without question, their hands intertwine once more.

It’s hard to stay awake when they’ve reached such serenity in a time like this. With screams across the way and the impending doom of being terribly vulnerable, Jacob feels as safe as he’s ever been. There’s a dull pain in his heart, one that reminds him that New is abandoning his goal of rescuing those in need. But he can’t let him go, not when there are people on his trail.

Morning rolls around faster than he expected, one that’s shockingly absent of disruptions or government agents attempting to kill them. He notices that New is softly snoring against his arm, safe and sound, pretty and quiet— still wearing the black mask that conceals the lower half of his face. He’s still beautiful like this; all Jacob needs is the promise of his safety.

And on the cusp of falling asleep, he finally hears the blaring sirens, indicating that purge night has officially concluded. Gently and slowly, Jacob takes a shaky breath and swipes his thumb over the heat of New’s skin. Slowly but surely, he wakes up with fluttered eyelashes and deep bags hanging below his eyes. Jacob wants to take him home and erase those tired lines.

“New? It’s over. You’re safe. We’re safe.”

 “Already…it’s already over?” There’s a certain degree of panic in his voice that makes Jacob’s heart clench impossibly tight.

“My quota wasn’t met.”

“You’re alive.”

“Others could be alive instead of me.”

“I couldn’t let you put yourself in further danger. I’m sorry,” Jacob says, failing to retract his hand from New’s face. There’s a single tear that slides down his cheek, transferring onto the pads of Jacob’s fingers. “You’ve done so much, New. Don’t take the blame.”

With a choked sob, New buries his forehead into Jacob’s shoulder and leans into the gentle touches. They stay like this until the sun rises to the center of the sky, bright and blinding. It doesn’t feel real— that Jacob has survived a second purge outside of where he should have been.

“Can I take you home?” Jacob asks, though he already knows the answer.

“I can’t risk that. I’m sorry. I wish I could.”

“I understand. I’m assuming you can’t walk back with me, either.”

New shakes his head, more tears cascading down his pretty face. “I’m sorry, Jacob.” He slowly rises from the ground and drops their interlocked fingers. “I’m sorry.”

“Will I ever see you again?” Jacob asks, delicately tugging at New’s pants before he can run away.

“I can’t promise that. But what I can promise,” he sinks to his knees, leveling his gaze at a desperate Jacob. “I can promise to keep you safe. Here, now, then, later. Come hell or high water, stay alert, stay focused, and stay alive.”

Jacob parts his lips as New turns to leave yet something prompts him to chase after him, catching his shoulder in distress. “We’ll keep each other alive. Find me, and I’ll find you. Will you honor that?”

With a small grin, New nods his head. He presses his palms to the top of Jacob’s hand and gently squeezes it.

A bird sings, and he’s gone.

🏴‍☠️

Wednesday, June 12th, 2025. 3:04 PM. The Fire Station.

“You saw it, didn’t you?” Juyeon asks, a blinding smile plastered on his face that Jacob can’t quite comprehend. “One of the potential running mates retracted his support of the president. Good news, right Cobbie?”

Jacob nods, wiping away the charcoal caked on his face. They’ve finished another fourteen-day excursion, one amongst the trees and the mountains of Gangwon-Do. He’ll be on leave for the next couple of weeks, enjoying time away from back-to-back trips of raging fires. Typically, Jacob catches up with missed events as soon as he gets back to the station. And the tv’s are already on, broadcasting the viral moment.

“Good news,” he responds lowly, stripping off his work boots. And truly, he’s not lying. 

Every time there’s bad news, it comes with something a little lighter, a little more hopeful. Two more members of Incognito are revealed, and two more politicians denounce their support. Three new protests break out downtown, and three more campaigns are geared in the right direction. It’s whiplash, but he remembers New’s words in his mind— “It needs to get worse before it gets better.”

In fact, nothing about New has left his mind. The soft touches, the intoxicating smells, the way he safely fell asleep on Jacob’s shoulder, trusting him enough to do so. Every time Lee Felix cackles on screen, Jacob fears that he’ll see New on the cameras— terrified and wide-eyed, exposed and ready to die for a desperate cause. It keeps him on his toes, on the agenda of fighting back.

Washing off his blackened cheeks is what incentivizes him to get home. He haphazardly tosses his clothing in the washer before scrubbing his body down until it’s raw. He lights a candle, turns on Spotify, opens his notifications, and checks the mail. He flips through them one by one; bills, credit card offers, loan statements, letters from the landlord.

Until he finds it— penned with cursive and sutured with a wax seal. It’s addressed to his name yet without a return address. With his heart in his throat, Jacob carefully peels open the letter.

Jacob.

Please don’t be alarmed. It’s New.

First and foremost, I need you to know that Younghoon is alive. Captured, but alive. Second of all, I’m sorry if this is abrupt, I’m sure it’s strange that I have your address. I promise you, it’s for safety purposes.

I debated placing this letter, as I wasn’t sure if it would put me in jeopardy. But realizing now, I can’t go another day without wanting to reach out. I need you to know that I am alive and well, and that I am still fighting in-between the months leading up to the purge.

You don’t have to respond. But if you desire to— there’s a dead-drop on the second trail at the park we hid out at. You’ll see a small wooden box that’s tucked inside the third tree at the very end of the trail. There’s a hollow hole. You’ll see it, it’s monitored.

Jacob. Please stay well. I wish you the best.

- New

With glossy eyes, Jacob refolds the letter and covers his face with his hands, quietly crying into them. The idea that New has put his identity at risk just for the sake of Jacob’s peace of mind is eating him from the inside out, ripping away at his organs and clawing at his flesh. There’s panic running through his bones as he scrambles to find a spare piece of paper and a pen, mind already formulating a response that’s good enough to send back. Upon finding a piece of paper, he immediately gets to work.

My dear New.

You have no idea how happy I am to see that you’ve found a way to reach out to me. Though unconventional, I kind of like it.

I don’t know when you sent the message. I’ve been on and off at work. I’m a wildland firefighter. I go on assignments for days. I’m sorry if this worried you, I promise I’m alright.

And Younghoon? I hope with all my heart he will return to us safely. Please keep me updated on his wellbeing. And if it isn’t too much to risk, tell me about yourself. Tell me all of what you wish for me to know.

We’ll see each other soon, New.

- Jacob

Jacob doesn’t have a nice enough way to seal the letter, not in the way New had. But he tapes it shut with a colorful piece of washi tape and slips it into a white envelope, scribbling New’s name in small print at the very corner. He brushes his fingers over it and presses a kiss to the middle.

And in the silence of the night, he slips it into the dead-drop.

🏴‍☠️

July-September, 2025. All Hours. The Letters.

Jacob.

Younghoon is still alive. I’m so glad to have heard back from you. I haven’t slept as well since the night you saved me. I want to know that you’re doing okay. Are you safe when you’re fighting fires?

I’ll tell you as much as I can for now. I don’t think you’d ever guess what I do for a living. Maybe I’ll give you a hint— luxury. 

The members of Incognito are growing, yet we are slowly losing old ones. I have not yet been suspected, but I’ll let you know if that changes.

Do tell me, when did you wish to become a firefighter?

- New

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚

New.

God bless Younghoon. My best friend misses him so much. It hurts my heart.

I am used to the flames at this point. And sometimes the fire gives the mountains a beautiful glow, as morbid as it sounds. I like my job.

Luxury? Perhaps you work at a casino, a hotel, a bar. I won’t guess any further, don’t worry. I was half-right, as you smelled like you were worth a million dollars. Sorry if that’s weird.

I am in support of the new members. I hope they will find the cause well. Another protest broke out near me, and I wonder if you were there.

What kind of cologne do you use?

- Jacob

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚

My dear Jacob.

You are so silly. Chanel N°5. My mom wore it. Glad you liked it.

I don’t work at any of those places, but good guesses. 

I agree that sometimes the fires make the mountains look beautiful when it’s at the right angle. I don't think it’s morbid. There’s some kind of poetry written in there…but I can’t word it myself. Mind the flames.

And who knows, maybe I was at that protest. 

- New

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚

My nice-smelling New.

Your mom wore it? Does it remind you of her? Tell me about her.

The luxury isn’t a surprise to me. You look the part (positively). 

I’m glad you share the sentiment of the glow when there’s flames.

Not to be strange, but I, too, can’t sleep like that night. Maybe if you hold this letter close to your heart it will lull you into a slumber (I’m half joking, but give it a try).

- Jacob

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚

My compliment-heavy Jacob.

My mom was wonderful, as you probably could have guessed. She raised me partly on her own and I think of her every day. She believed in justice just as I do. I carry on her legacy. I lost her during the purge when I was in high school. You can imagine why I do what I do now.

I wouldn’t have guessed you to be a firefighter. So soft-spoken and gentle. You’re quite brave for that. You’d make a good member of Incognito (but don’t let that convince you). 

- New (P.S– the letter trick worked. It’s nice to feel safe).

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚

My sleepy New.

I would have loved her, if she’s anything like you. My mom isn’t as enthusiastic about putting an end to this madness. She worries about me, however. I’m so sorry to hear that. It makes sense what you do. You’re doing the best you can to avenge her, I salute you for it.

I wanted to be a city firefighter when I was younger but decided against it. I’m not sure that’s something I could handle until the world becomes a nicer place. If I was any braver, I’d join your side. Only now, however, am I up to date with the politics of the world. I hope this doesn’t disappoint you. You’ve lit some kind of flame underneath me, and I appreciate it. 

Maybe if you keep adding the letters to your bed stand, you’ll sleep an extra hour every morning. Just a thought.

- Jacob (P.S— Another protest today. I saw a man with black, curly hair. Could that have been you?)

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚

My firefighter Jacob.

Perhaps it was me. 

I worry about you alongside her. And don’t apologize, we all have our reasons to live. I can’t expect everyone to live for others. But I am honored to hear that I am the reason you’ve taken interest in the cause. It’s better to believe than to not believe at all. I’ll keep the flame alight for as long as you want it to burn.

I put the letters inside the drawers in my bed stand. I struggle with sleep sometimes, but your words have a miraculous effect on me.

I sincerely hope that wasn’t too terribly cheesy to say. I can always be quiet.

- Your New.

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚

My Flame.

You can say whatever you want to me. I don’t mind. It’s wonderful to have something to look forward to.

Did you hear about the major riot? Multiple members of Incognito were captured. I was so worried, New. I worry that they’ll find the dead-drop. I’m worried that they’ll find you. I don’t know what I’d do if they found you.

Please tell me Younghoon is still well. Is he? Have you heard news from him? His immediate relatives want to hold a candlelight vigil but Eric refuses this notion. Is the other man alive, too? Kevin Moon? 

I’m sorry to shift to such heavy topics. Don’t put this one near your bed.

- Your Jacob.

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚

My worried Jacob.

We’ll switch the location of the dead-drop in two weeks. I’ll keep you updated. They won’t find me, not yet. And if they’re ever onto you, you let me know immediately. 

Younghoon is alright, please pass the message on. The government has no interest in killing those who can give them exactly what they’re looking for. I can’t promise he’ll come out the same, but he’ll come out either way. Kevin Moon’s whereabouts are unknown, but I assume he’s in the same holding cell.

Heavy topics are meant to be discussed. We’ll talk about happy things, too.

- Your New.

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚

My New.

I’ve let Eric know, thank you. I hope Kevin will be alright.

Let’s talk about happy things?

Incognito are leaving murals all over the city…have you painted any of them? They’re beautiful. You look like you could be an artist. With that face, you could be anything, honestly. Super impressive honestly, how none of them are getting caught at night.

How admirable~

- Your Jacob

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚

My Jacob.

I do a little bit of painting myself, yes. Find my tag somewhere, maybe I DID paint some. 

You make me smile, Jacob. How sweet of you. To me, your face IS the art.

By the way, do any of your friends call you Cob or Cobbie?

Sounds cute.

- Your New

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚

My New.

I found your tag downtown. In the corner. You thought you could hide from me?

Ah…don’t make me blush like that. The world is on fire and you are making me blush…I don’t even know your name. 

My friends call me both. You can call me whatever you want.

- Your Cobbie (P.S– Maybe this is too invasive, but do you think I’ll ever know you after this is over? You don’t have to answer this.)

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚

My Cobbie.

And I think BECAUSE the world is on fire, we should be the retardant. It's no fun to fight for rights when you can’t find joy in other things. And like your letters extend my sleep, maybe every time I make you blush, a fire will burn out.

Jacob. You have no idea— I wish we could sit face to face and talk for hours. I wish we could have met on a different occasion. And maybe in another life, we HAVE met on a different occasion.

But we must be hopeful. My answer to you is yes— if this is ever over, I will open my heart to you.

- Your New (P.S— be weary of the next few days. If I don’t respond, please don’t panic. We’ll see each other again soon)

🏴‍☠️

Wednesday, October 22nd. 2025. 2:34 AM. Eric’s Apartment.

“The letters…stopped?” Eric whispers, eyes reflecting the glint of the tv.

With a dry swallow, Jacob nods his head.

They stopped. The dead-drop switched, the box was removed, the letters halted. And after the last note New had written, Incognito vandalized the presidential residence. Political uprising has been nonstop since then— propaganda on the streets, national threats, more members of Incognito being exposed on live television. Even other countries are following suit, with America being the first country to take a major stance against it, despite being the one who started it.

And admittedly, Jacob hates to think about what this means for New’s safety. Maybe he’s alive, maybe he’s captured, and maybe he’s dead. 

“He’s fighting, Cob. I’m sure he’s alright.”

The tv is displaying another public humiliation of three new members of Incognito. Kim Sunwoo, Lee Jaehyun, and Ji Changmin— all young and bright-eyed. It makes Jacob want to throw up. 

“If my Younghoonie is alive, then New is alive. You have to keep that spirit. We’ll never get anywhere if we don’t.”

With his eyes trained on the screen, Jacob nods and rests his head upon his best friend’s shoulder.

🏴‍☠️

January-March. 2026. All Hours. A Series of Events.

Thursday, February 20th, 2026. 8:45 AM. Downtown Seoul.

Police sirens, ambulances, a mess in the city.

Another politician attacked, an Incognito base located, and a handful of civilians hurt.

Elections next year, an angry country, protests weekly.

And still, no letter from him.

Saturday, March 20th, 2026. 9:23 PM. The Presidential Residence.

Cracked, crumbling, white walls that morph into paste. A roaring fire so hot that blue flakes can be spotted from a mile away.

It’s the first day of spring, and the president is dead.

🏴‍☠️

Tuesday, April 21st, 2026. 7:00 PM. Purge Night, Year Three.

Jacob grips the crumpled paper in his hand.

White-knuckled, bruised from pounding them against the wall, red with hatred. Jacob doesn’t like what he’s become.

The letter is splotched in multiple places, torn at the ends, smudged down the center. But it’s his writing, Jacob is sure of it. Holding his breath, he reads it over and over again.

Jacob.

Don’t go out. Stay inside. Don’t look for me.

We’ll meet on a different occasion, Cobbie. 

In a different lifetime, you’ll know my name.

- New

Historically, Jacob has always followed the rules. Obeyed the government, responded to his bosses, handled every reprimand with grace and a dazzling smile. Only now, rebellion has staked a place in his heart, fueled by one thing and one thing only.

He’ll never forgive the world from what it has taken from him, and he won’t let it take any more.

With a heavy heart and a burning passion of disdain, Jacob grips his baseball bat with added spikes and gears up— black mask, black clothing, black boots. An honorary member of Incognito. An honorary member of New’s team. 

The clock ticks and this time he silences it; takes it off the wall, smashes it to pieces, leaves the mess on his kitchen floor. He’ll deal with it later and replace it with an analog. 

Purge night is hot this time around, a certain level of humidity that makes the clothing terribly uncomfortable on melting skin. But he pays it no mind, gripping the baseball bat with a level of intensity he’s never had. The letter is situated in his left pocket, folded neatly; Jacob can hear the soft shrill of New’s voice, reading the letter aloud in his thoughts. He sounds scared, desperate, devoid of hope. Jacob is going to find him for everything that it’s worth.

Haknyeon joined Incognito after the president was assassinated. And after the uproar of political battles in the media, Jacob wrote a singular letter to his masked hero, only to never receive one back until purge eve. It was a simple letter— how are you? New, are you there?

And now, he’s traversing the streets like he’s known the violence upon them for years, knowing when to avoid the cars and the people and all the little screams that echo in his eardrums. Things stopped scaring him a year ago, when he watched the rebels be humiliated on live television, when newscaster Lee Felix and Shin Ryujin laughed so hard their stomachs hurt. 

Haknyeon told him all the bases. The convenience store across from the abandoned church, the temple by the last bus stop, the empty fire-watch station on the hill. He’ll go to all of them if he has to— he’ll scale the city walls and fight his way through the sickening onslaught of blood-hungry villains. He’ll do it all. 

The convenience store is overrun with the enemy. Crawling like hawk wasps with blunt weapons and rifles, looking for the next victim to paralyze and devour from the inside out. Government-employed civilians with nothing left to lose, patrolling the hideout with Incognito masks pinned up on the walls, an example made out of those who couldn’t hide in the shadows. Jacob conceals himself well, fingering the baseball bat and making haste away from the first base.

The second one is similar: the Buddhist temple is staked out by anyone but Incognito, roaming the territory like they own it. A disrespectful sight for a religion that is meant to harness love. The torch inside him refuses to burn out, refuses to die down until he sees him again— until he can touch him again, make sure that he is real and alive.

Jacob doesn’t like the pure blackness of the hill behind the park trees. It’s shrouded in darkness and all kinds of animal calls he can’t quite make out. Perhaps the scariest part of it all is the simple nature of the environment, mother nature blissfully existing without the embroilment of dystopian warfare. He makes his way past the swing set, the brush, the bathroom walls he held a stranger next to. 

And when he sees it, his heart clenches with anger and fear. 

Fire, more fire— fire everywhere. On the ground, the tips of the trees, the center of the lone building meant to monitor the nearing trails. The flames are ablaze in his eyes, the heat familiar on his skin, sweat suffocating him inside the thick layers of clothing. Unfamiliar men wearing eerie masks of political figures spread out across the land, holding brandished weapons and burning the Incognito flags with lit torches. And in this moment, Jacob truly knows what it feels like to join a movement.

There are caged members of Incognito at every corner around the fire-watch station; some are tied up, some are chained the other way, some appear to be wrestling their way out. There are at least twelve of them, scattered around the premises as their captors peruse the area. With precaution, Jacob tip-toes around the terrifying scene, covering the parameter with feather-light steps and slow movements. He looks for him, scans his eyes around the scene.

They’re making an example of them. Taunting them, mocking them, laughing at them. We won’t kill you just yet, we’ll make the world watch until the very end. Then you’ll see the consequences of being a traitor. Cackling, wielding their weapons, devouring the violence like it’s their last meal.

And upon rounding the corner of the station, Jacob sees him— one hand shackled to the cage and the other freed upon great struggle, redness around his wrists. He has blond hair this time, a little bit longer and falling down to his neck, the mask barely cinched around his face. He doesn’t look scared, maybe something akin to it. Wide-eyes, desperately trying to slip his other hand out of the cuffs. Jacob’s own eyes well up with tears at the sight of New being alive, the sight of him being captured, the sight of him willing to die for what he’s fighting for.

He’d rather be killed than leave him in this cage, even if it means blowing his cover and sending the brigade of attackers hot on his trail. And in a split decision, Jacob takes a spare rock and throws it at the metal, watching as it rattles the lock on the door. New’s eyes shoot up as he brings his free fist to the front of his chest, ready to defend himself. Frustration pools in Jacob’s chest when he realizes New doesn’t notice him; he throws another stone. This time, it hits the top of the cage. Relieved, Jacob watches as New scans his surroundings and locks eyes with Jacob hiding behind a bush.

He visibly gasps, clasping his chained hand around the bars of the enclosure and extending the other out to Jacob, fingers stretching as far as they can go. Slowly but surely, Jacob watches his surroundings and notes the way the attackers follow a specific route. Back and forth, side to side, covering the same area multiple times until something out of the ordinary presents himself. And when two of them move to the frontside of the fire station, Jacob bolts for it. 

In one swift movement, he brings down the spiked bat and crushes the lock with fervor, realizing that it is the first time he’s ever had to use it. The sound makes a terribly loud clamoring noise, causing multiple masked figures to snap their heads in his direction, lifting their weapons in preparation to end his life. Jacob swings open the metal door and goes to grab New, yanking him back with incredible speed. He yelps, hand still shackled to the cage bars.

In horror, Jacob looks between the man holding an axe, feet away from him. And the woman, holding a rifle, coming from the other side. He has less than a minute to safely break New’s chains.

“Watch your wrist! Pull back,” he says without a breath, pushing New back before he smashes the chain to bits, barely missing New’s hand but not leaving it unscathed. The spikes leave surface-level slices on his wrist but he pays it no mind, grabbing Jacob’s hand and pulling him out of the area as soon as possible. Bullets rain over the two of them, along with shouting from all directions. It hurts his heart, that Jacob can’t save anyone else. But he can’t think about that now, not when his own life is on the line.

Jacob brings New through the trees, zig-zagging like a jack rabbit as they stumble into the brush and patches of weeds that slow them down. Breathing synced up, footsteps pounding behind them, sick laughter that reverberates through the park. Jacob hopes to god that New isn’t hurt any worse than his bleeding wrists, tightening his grasp around his clammy hand and pushing himself through the burn of his lungs. 

They’re nearly out of the woods when New trips over a bush and falls forward, nicking his face on a stray branch and sending Jacob flying down with him. He can see movement in the distance, making haste towards their position as he gets up in record speed, pulling New with him and running faster than before. His masked man is hurt, he knows this much is true. The ragged breaths behind him, the loose grip on his hand, the sloppy movements of his feet. 

Jacob is glad to know this town like the back of his hand, knowing exactly where to lead their attackers to. He makes his way to the beginnings of the city junkyard, pulling New behind a row of crushed cars and loose tires in an attempt to throw off the gaggle of men and women behind them. And it works momentarily; Jacob pulls New down to his lap and presses a warm hand over his mask in an attempt to quiet down his heavy breathing. He feels awful, knowing that New is shaking in a certain degree of pain and fear. He slows his breaths as he listens to the sounds of figures crushing trash underneath their feet.

New is leaning against Jacob’s chest, resting his head in the crook of Jacob’s neck. His eyes are squeezed shut as he breaths against Jacob’s hand, their free hands linked together. The sounds of footsteps and laughter get quieter and quieter, the pursuers slowly losing their drive as they fail to find the two boys huddled together behind a crumbling convertible. Jacob can feel the wet tears on his fingers, digging into his heart. They wait like this for what seems like eternity, listening to the sound of each other’s breaths and soft cries. And after forty-five minutes of dead silence, Jacob lets his hand fall from New’s mouth.

“New…?” He whispers, craning his head to see his face. Tear-tracks on his pink skin, bags under his eyes, long hair that curls around his face. Even then, he’s still beautiful. 

“I’m alright. My hand hurts, and I definitely pulled something. But I’m alright,” he slowly whispers back, pressing his face into Jacob’s neck and inhaling deeply. “What about you?” 

Despite the violence that parades around them, everything is muted. Jacob pulls New’s hoodie back and runs his fingers through his hair, pulling him closer into his neck. Soft, because it’s what he deserves. Soft, because it’s how things should be.

“We can make it back to my apartment before morning. I’ll make sure you stay safe, New,” Jacob feels the gentle breaths fanning on his skin— even through the fabric, triggering the goosebumps on his arms. He feels so comfortable like this, like he could stay in this junkyard with this stranger forever; he doesn’t need a name, or a face. He just needs him like this.

“We’ll have to make a run for it again. We don’t know if they’re stalking us. Are you alright enough to run?” Jacob asks, nuzzling into New’s face. “I’ll carry you if I have to, even if it slows us down a bit.”

New shakes his head and presses a palm to Jacob’s face, gently stroking his thumb over his cheek. “I’ll run. Make sure they’re not on our trail.”

“I’ll make sure,” Jacob assures, leaning into New’s touch. It’s warm, comforting. His hands feel like luxury.

Slowly but surely, they rise from their position, ignoring the dull aches in their limbs and the pain in their lungs. But they remain hip to hip, fingers sutured together like they’ll be torn away at any given second. Jacob does his best to quietly step around the metal at their feet, directing when and where New can move. He watches him wince in pain and wishes so dearly that he could bear that pain instead.

The masked figures don’t seem to be around the junkyard anymore, too busy with focusing on the captured members of Incognito instead. Jacob’s heart hurts for those that he could not save, yet he recognizes the importance of selfishness in a time like this. Pain is simply an afterthought, thoroughly ignored as the two quietly trudge past the sharp metal and loose pieces of wood. They make it out of the junkyard unscathed, yet Jacob worries for the trouble they’ll face on the streets.

He’s not that far from his apartment, knowing that a couple blocks down means freedom. But even then, he takes it with precaution, slows their steps down to inches at a time, whips around at every interval. He can still see other masked figures roaming around in the distance, blocking the direct way to his destination. He takes the alleyways, the side streets, the backlots. New’s breaths get heavier and heavier, wheezes from his chest and gentle whines from his throat. 

“We’re almost there. You’ll be alright,” Jacob pleads with his eyes, captures New’s face with both his hands, and fixes his mask. He nods and continues moving forward.

It’s nothing short of a miracle when Jacob stumbles into his apartment complex, gripping onto New’s hand like his life depends on it (and it does). There are more figures around the parking lot, patrolling the hallways and making it difficult to view the safe points of entry. Jacob scowls to himself and presses his back against the wall, thumbing New’s hand. They’re like pests, every single one of them.

“Which one is yours?” New whispers, audible pain in his voice. 

Jacob takes a deep breath and looks at his apartment door, empty of threats. However, a rugged figure stands still at the end of the hallway. “I wish I didn’t leave my bat at that fire-watch,” he squeezes his eyes shut as a slew of curse words leave his lips.

“No. Jacob, no. That’s not— that’s not who you are,” he holds Jacob’s face in the palm of his hands. “We’ll find a way to get in, we will. Even if it means staying out here all night.”

Jacob nods and abandons the idea of possible violence. He racks his brain and listens to New’s steady heartbeat, one that he’d do anything to keep alive. Then he remembers— when he saved Haknyeon two years ago, the window he was pounded against, on the other side of the building. In a swift motion, Jacob leads New to behind the complex, keeping his movements quiet. With a big sigh of relief, Jacob realizes that none of the enemies have made it around the corner. Despite this, he stalks over carefully, observing the latch on his window and giving New a nod as he uses his elbow to break it. The latch falls off, and Jacob hopes to god that no one heard the sound.

The window gives way to the force as Jacob yanks it up, punching out the screen and falling through it. He slides into his living room and grabs onto New’s waist, pulling him through and immediately shutting the glass behind him, yanking down the curtains. He runs over to the subpar security system and locks up his apartment, scooting a large chair in front of both the window and the doorway entrance. His heart pounds as he slides to the ground, wrapping arms around his legs.

He feels the warmth of someone engulfing his figure, snaking warm arms around his waist. New breathes against him, nuzzles his face against him, cries against him. Jacob lifts his head from his knees and pulls New into his lap for a second time that night, tight arms and soft sobs. 

“Let me clean you up,” Jacob whispers through the fabric of New’s shirt, gripping onto the hoodie. “You’re hurt. I’m not going to let you leave here while you’re in pain.”

New pulls back and thumbs Jacob’s cheeks. “I’m not that bad. My wrists are a little scratched up, but nothing that a band aid won’t fix.”

“Your leg…aren’t you in pain?” Jacob’s fingers ghost over New’s sweatpants, torn in a few different places. “You said you pulled something.”

New nods and winces when he shifts his body into a different position. “Just need a little ice, that’s all.”

Within seconds, Jacob is gently pulling New off the ground and repositioning him on his couch, demanding to stay right where he is as he fetches the first aid kit hidden in his bathroom closet. He returns with gauzes and a chilled bottle of hydrogen peroxide, kneeling before New. Gently, he takes his reddened wrist and pours the liquid all over it, watching in regret as New winces from the bubbling pain. Jacob dries the wounded area and puts on a thin layer of aloe vera, wrapping the gauze around New’s wrist with precision. If firefighting has prepared him for anything, it’s how to keep someone alive.

“Thank you,” New whispers, letting his head fall back onto the cushioned couch. 

“Aren’t you burning up in that?” Jacob asks, running his hands along New’s chest, wanting so badly to peel off the hoodie. “You can take a shower if you want. Better yet, maybe an epsom salt bath to help with pain.”

New leans towards Jacob’s face and smiles, pulling off his hoodie while maintaining the mask pressed against his lips. He’s wearing a black compression shirt, hugging his waist and shoulders in a way that makes Jacob appreciate his beauty even further. 

“Is that alright?”

“I’ll run the bath for you,” Jacob says, scrambling to his feet and ignoring the heated dust on his cheeks. He fills the bath with water and pours in the epsom salt, mixing it around with his fingers and swallowing the budding attraction in his throat.

“Do you…need help…g-getting in?” He asks cautiously, watching as New makes his way into the bathroom behind him. He smiles and tilts his head.

“I’m alright. I’d let you in but…” he points to his mask as his head falls in melancholy. “I’m sorry, Cobbie.”

Jacob’s heart sinks as he presses his lips into a forced smile. He gets it, he truly does. Even if he’s memorized his face through and through, even if he’d immediately know him in public, even if he’d find him in every database. Respect is his priority.

New changes into a pair of Jacob’s loose clothing when he’s done, limping into the living room as Jacob rushes to gently place him on the couch. He’s already got an ice pack ready to press against his skin, positioning New to put his legs over his lap. He looks terribly sleepy— even with the clatter of bottles breaking outside and fits of screams that haunt their ears. They can’t pay attention to that, not when all they have is each other, when all they have is a few more hours together.

“I can’t thank you enough,” New says, eyes fluttering closed as he rests against the couch, Jacob gently applying pressure to his strained muscle. He looks so comfortable, like he could exist in his home forever.

“You don’t have to thank me. We promised to keep each other safe, didn’t we? Besides, I’ll live the rest of my life trying to figure out how to thank you. I’ll do anything for you,” Jacob says as a matter of fact, immediately regretting those last words. His face flushes red hot in embarrassment.

Against all odds, New offers him an eye-smile and a small laugh. “Don’t be embarrassed, Cobbie. It’s cute,” he slowly leans up, swiping his thumb over Jacob’s parted lips. “I’ll do anything for you, too,” he whispers, eyes looking Jacob’s face up and down. 

They’re caught within the moment, ignoring the flares outside, the bullets that rain down from the sky, the glass that crunch under the enemy’s feet. Jacob has never once felt this level of warmth before, this level of softness and comfort. He wants to lean in so badly and close the gap that they’ve created between them and kiss away the pain. He wants to kiss him until the mask comes off, the nickname becomes his government name, the touches become anything but platonic. 

And slowly, his fantasy comes half-alive. New presses a gentle kiss to Jacob’s lips, mask and all. A quick, brief moment that sends more butterflies through Jacob’s stomach than any relationship he’s ever been in. Even through the fabric, even through the anonymity. New pulls away and ruffles Jacob’s hair, laying back down against the couch with closed eyes, suggesting that there’s a wide smile under that black mask. 

Despite the commotion outside, they fall asleep like this, wrapped up with one another until dawn emerges, until the purge comes to an end. And when sunrise peeks through the curtains, Jacob feels lips on his forehead, absent of fabric, pressing slowly against his skin. His eyes are covered with New’s hands, velvety and gentle. And when he wakes up, New is nowhere to be seen.

The tv switches on, and the bloodbath replays.

🏴‍☠️

Friday, September 18th, 2026. 6:00 PM. The News.

The polls are in favor of a new president.

One that hates the purge, has history with the purge, wants to take it between her fingers and crush it with unimaginable force. Jacob doesn’t even bother learning her name, too doubtful that she’ll make anything happen, not in this economy. 

The last dead-drop was seized. Incognito members are dwindling. Haknyeon is hurt. Kevin and Younghoon are still nowhere to be seen.

And New, lost to the whispers of a hopeful reform.

Jacob knows better than to assume the worst, not when New had come back to him the second time alive and well. But with the state of the world and the looming threat of a dictatorship, he can’t quite seem to think of anything better.

But he remembers the kisses: the fabric against his lips, the kiss against his forehead. The touches, the cuddling, the way that New left without saying goodbye.

He’ll have to pray.

That in another lifetime, their occasion will be a little more happy.

🏴‍☠️

Tuesday, March 9th, 2027. 9:00 AM. Election Day.

The polls are out.

Jacob grips onto his best friend with anticipation and dread, fingers clammy and shaky. Eric presses his forehead into Jacob’s shoulder and cries as the newscasters report on the votes. It’s taking too long, too dragged out and taunting.

Until Lee Felix says it, with a bitter tone and jaw-dropped. 

She won. She wins.

She wins for Younghoon, for Kevin, for Eric, for Jacob, for the people.

For New.

🏴‍☠️

Wednesday, May 12th, 2028. 11:43 AM. Downtown Seoul.

Jacob likes the new construction downtown.

The colors are brighter, the signs neater, the people a little nicer. New shops and stores that decorate a previously drab neighborhood, boasting signs that praise the new leadership and abolishment of The Annual Purge. 

Eric is with him, arms linked together as they peruse the new businesses and point out new items in stock. Younghoon and Kevin are in and out of the psychiatric hospital, slowly recovering and getting back onto their feet after being released from the shackles of the government.

After the purge was abolished, multiple government officials were arrested and charged for many things: torture, embezzlement, fraud, and market manipulation. Members of Incognito were both honored for their fight as well as given witness protection after being freed. The president had taken the exclamation point and solidified it in her marketing campaign, claiming the rebel group to be her reason for running. And by god, it worked.

Jacob doesn’t want to think about the death toll— about how many brave people had to fight for justice to prevail, about how many people he left the night he whisked New away from danger. Therapy is helping, and every other day he sleeps at Eric’s apartment. He video-calls Haknyeon every saturday from his pig farm back on Jeju Island and keeps him updated with city life. He’s training to be a city firefighter after taking a year off from wildland fighting.

Things are calm, serene, falling into place. 

And though the thought comes back for fleeting moments at a time, Jacob doesn’t think about his masked man as much as he used to. He’s come to peace by holding his memory, whispering to the skies that their next life will be full of everything gentle, everything harmonious and wonderful. He’ll get to see his soft lips and kiss his soft skin, wrap arms around his torso from behind and talk about how sweet it is that they’ve finally met again. He’ll love him in a world absent of terror and oppression, absent of ever knowing loss. He’ll love him down to his bones.

“Ooo, have you been there yet?” Eric points to a shop boasting designer clothing behind the glass, far out of his pay range. He can’t even name the brands that are plastered on the labels, gloating ridiculous prices that aren’t quite worth it. He rolls his eyes.

“Why would we go there?” He shakes his head with a smile. Eric pouts, dragging him in, anyway.

“We have to start living a little, right?”

“I think I’ve lived enough, Eric,” Jacob says playfully. 

They enter the chilled shop, artificial air causing goosebumps to rise upon their skin. It’s a nice change of pace from the hot sun outside. Jacob isn’t particularly interested in the products that line the shelves, all new and shiny. It’s a post-dystopian world— he can’t quite get used to the way normalcy feels, no matter where he goes. But he looks at everything, pretending to be intrigued. He’s happy to see Eric happy, and he’ll do anything to make sure it stays this way. 

Jacob distracts himself by feeling the fabric of the designer clothing, looking at each price tag and cringing inward at the amount. Eric nudges him with a giggle and points at a few different handbags that he’s interested in. They laugh their way through the shop, rolling their eyes at the ridiculous prices of cologne and jewelry.

Twenty minutes later, Eric drags Jacob to the front counter to inquire about a silver ring behind the glass. Jacob can’t quite understand what about it is so interesting, but he digresses. And while he scrolls on his phone, he hears a satiny voice ring in his ears. In an instant, his eyes snap up. 

A year after the purge ended, nothing ever felt quite real. And neither does this— staring down the man who left him in radio silence, after a silent kiss to his skin.

Jacob stumbles backward, gripping onto Eric’s arm before he nearly falls to the ground. It's him, it has to be him. His hair is back to pink, curly and short, boba eyes, full lips— even if they’re not exactly heart shaped as Jacob had predicted. He’s wearing a see-through white top that barely hangs off one shoulder, a Vivienne Westwood necklace, dangly earrings, and black-ripped jeans. There’s baby pink blush on his cheeks, sparkles on the inner corners of his eyes, long lashes and manicured nails. The spitting image of everything Incognito is not— pretty.

His name tag reads, Choi Chanhee.

“Jacob?” Eric wraps his arms around Jacob’s frame and pulls him closer, shifting his gaze to the beautiful man behind the counter with a calculated glare. Gently, Jacob pushes him off and presses palms flat on the glass.

“New.”

His eyebrows are raised, hand covering his mouth, bangs falling just above his eyes. He scans the room around him and leans in close, whispering to Jacob in the low voice he was never able to forget.

“Jacob.”

And then it hits him— luxury. The wafting scent of Chanel N°5, the rotating colors of his hair. How could he have missed that? 

“C-Chanhee? Your name is C—”

Chanhee slaps a hand over Jacob’s mouth and gives Eric a panicked look. “We can talk about this, just give me thirty minutes before my shift is over.”

Jacob puts his hand over Chanhee’s, a ridiculously dreamy expression plastered on his face. Eric looks between the two of them with shock written on his face, completely abandoning the silver ring. Chanhee ushers the two of them to the back of the department and presses a finger to his lips, indicating for them to keep their mouths shut before returning to his position at the front desk.

And thirty minutes later, he comes barreling through the door and slams it shut.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want people knowing who I was,” he whispers, a full one-eighty from the panic in his body language. “Even if we are free people, I have gone this long without being discovered. And believe me, they were really, really close.”

“Chanel N°5,” Jacob repeats, staring at the ground before him. Eric gives him a nudge before locking eyes with Chanhee.

“You… you’re New?! But you don’t look li—”

“I’m aware. It’s the perfect cover, isn’t it?” He smiles and crosses his arms. “I wish I could have said something more to you, Jacob.”

Chanhee makes his way over to the shaken man and lifts his hand to touch his skin, yet decides against it. For a moment it feels as if they’re the only two in the room, devoid of Eric’s presence. “I’m sorry.”

With a choked sob, Jacob pushes his hands away. “I thought you were dead.”

Silence, beating hearts, remorse hanging in the air. Chanhee’s hands linger in the air as well, too afraid to reach out and touch the man sobbing before him. Tears well in his eyes as he does his best to remain put together.

“After the purge was abolished, many of my friends were hurt. I promise you, I wanted so badly to tell you how I felt, how I wanted to find you. But I just couldn’t bring myself to overcome the guilt of putting you through this…I felt like…” he tapers off, wiping away a stray tear laced with sparkles. “I felt like I turned you into someone you were not.”

Jacob sniffs and gently grabs at Chanhee’s wrists. “I would have become anything to save you.”

“I didn’t want you to lose your morals because of me. The way you wielded that bat…I hated watching you cave like that, Jacob. And how could I find you after leaving you time and time again? With no warning?” He holds onto Jacob’s hands with fervor while Eric quietly watches.

“I just wanted to know that you were alive. You could have told me at least that,” Jacob croaks, letting his head fall against Chanhee’s shoulder. He stays like this for a few moments, gripping onto Chanhee’s designer shirt and ruining it with tears. Eric sighs and runs a hand through Jacob’s hair, giving Chanhee a sympathetic look. 

“I’m alive, Jacob.”

Jacob stifles a muffled laugh against the fabric, gently pounding his fist against Chanhee’s chest. He looks up and swipes his thumb over his pink lips.

“And of course, you’re just as beautiful as I’d imagined the rest of you would be.”

🏴‍☠️

Wednesday, May 12th, 2028. 11:43 PM. Jacob’s Apartment.

“It’s cozier in here,” Chanhee says, sitting across from Jacob. 

They’re at the dinner table, sharing a cup of tea and debriefing. Hours earlier, Eric talked Chanhee’s ear off about what it meant to be part of a vigilante group and helping to steer the country into the right direction. And despite his irritating questions, Chanhee smiled and answered all of them.

And now he’s sitting in Jacob’s apartment— just the two of them, tripping over words and brushing fingers against one another. Jacob is going insane.

“It’s cozier because you’re here. It was a nightmare learning to live without you,” Jacob says truthfully, sipping on his hot tea. Chanhee pouts and reaches out to grasp Jacob’s free hand.

“You could have lived without me.”

“I couldn’t have. You should know this.”

“And why is that?” Chanhee asks, resting his chin upon his fist. He looks as if he knows the answer, only asking to hear it from Jacob’s sealed lips.

“Our lives…are interwoven together. I can’t sleep without thinking of you, can’t live my life without recognizing that you are the one who made it possible. I salute you, I respect you, I admire you, I need you. The people owe you their life, I owe you my life— and I owe you the truth.”

Chanhee visibly swallows, furrowing his eyebrows. “And what is the truth?”

“Somewhere along the way, I probably fell in love with you. I mean, how couldn’t I? Beautiful, brave, heroic, dreamy. The softness you carried, the gentleness in your heart despite what the purge took from you, the desire to keep people safe without the desire to kill. You are everything I am not,” Jacob whispers, slowly bringing Chanhee’s hand to his cheek. “I think— that we saw the world in the same way. The disdain for the government, the yearning to protect people. But we acted upon it in different ways. Me, a pacifist and you, a protector.”

Chanhee’s eyes are spilling over with tears, Jacob’s fingers swiping them away faster than they can fall. And his words are true, waiting to be told after four years. 

“I want you in my life. And if you don’t want that, tell me now. But if you choose to stay, then you really have to promise me that you will. Please don’t leave me again,” Jacob pleads, squeezing his eyes shut as a tear slides down Chanhee’s hand.

Cries are all that can be heard from the inside of Jacob’s apartment, half choked and charged with years of pain. Their hands stay interlocked, a parallel to the fated night two years ago.

“I’ll stay,” Chanhee whispers. “I have no reason to fight anymore. My reason to live has prevailed. You’re alive, the country is alive. Jacob, I’ll stay,” he says, abandoning his chair to sink right below Jacob’s frame and kiss at his thighs, all the way up to his chest and neck. Slow, sweet kisses, absent of the black mask and the fake alias. Jacob slowly snakes his hand around Chanhee’s waist and pulls him onto his lap, finally connecting their lips together.

Chanhee has a light hold on Jacob’s shoulders, too weak to grasp on any tighter. Not with the softness of their lips on one another, the pliable state of their limbs, the threat that no longer looms outside of those walls. One, slow, tantalizing kiss after the other.

“I’ll stay,” Chanhee whispers breathlessly, momentarily breaking away from their kiss to whisper these words. He presses soft lips to Jacob’s neck and shakily breathes against it. “I’ll stay.”

And he does.

🏴‍☠️

Sunday, April 21st, 2030. 7:00 PM. Home.

“And as we stand here commemorating the brave members of Incognito lost to the torches of a terrible tradition, the country of South Korea salutes them. Dear people, hold them close to your hearts and recognize that without them, we would be a shell. We wouldn’t have gotten here today without the fight they started and continued until the shackles were freed.”

The tv is on and so are the speakers, a mix of the president giving her speech and Frank Sinatra playing in the background. Dinner is on the table— lobster pasta with two glasses of wine and a lavender-scented candle burning right at the center. There’s a framed photo on the wall behind the dining table, paraphernalia of Incognito newspapers and masks next to a portrait of Chanhee’s mother.

Jacob has his hands wrapped around Chanhee’s torso, slowly swaying to the song as he chops up the garnishes. Every few seconds, he twirls him around and kisses the tint off his lips.

“We will continue to rise as a nation, erasing the wrongs of our rights and rebuilding a better government. We will no longer live in fear and terror, no longer risk our lives once every year. We will never take that route again.”

There’s pasta sauce on Chanhee’s nose; he giggles when Jacob wipes it off and kisses his cheeks, transferring more pasta onto his face. He dips Chanhee when Sinatra sings about an evenin’ for Terpsichore and a pretty face, kissing him until he runs out of breath.

“We need to eat,” Chanhee giggles, wriggling out of Jacob’s grasp. It’s no use. He’s caged against the counter once more, subjected to the giggly kisses and tight hold. Pulling away, he wraps his arms around Jacob’s neck and sways.

“I love you,” he whispers, impossibly soft. That sweet, velvety voice Jacob heard the first time they stumbled upon one another. He wants to drink it in for the rest of his life. And he will.

“I love you too.”

“And I’m sure that in hindsight, we’re all thinking the same thing— how could an entire nation fall for a single, flawed idea? How could it be so terribly easy to assimilate into the hive-mind of a cult? You’d be surprised, my dear friends, the kind of factions that form around high ticket attractions.”