Archive of Our Own

May 21, 2025

The 9th Annual Purge of The United States of America

The 3rd Annual Purge of The Republic of South Korea

6:55 PM

It’s too late to be out, Jeno knows that. But he also knows that he really wants— needs— needed, past tense, a phone charger. His broke last week and after 6 days of stealing juice from his roommate's charger, he finally accepted the fact that he won’t make it through all 12 hours of the Purge without a reliable way to charge his phone. He’ll sit through any joke in the book about how his generation can’t live without technology before he gives up his phone.

He checks his (barely charged) phone. It’s five minutes to 7, and there’s absolutely no one on the streets. It’s probably a seven minute walk to his apartment. He can make it if he runs. As humiliating as it is to tuck tail and bolt down the street, he’d like to keep his head attached to his body, thankyouverymuch. And he could make it, he would make it, if he didn’t trip over his own feet when the clanging of a metal fence catches him off-guard. Face two inches from the ground, all he can do is keep his head down as two shiny black Oxfords appear in his vision. 

“Do you have a death wish?” the stranger asks, and his voice sounds… familiar. Despite his better judgment, Jeno looks up and is greeted by the simultaneously inviting and unwelcome sight of Na Jaemin towering over him. All that’s left to do is scramble embarrassingly to his feet, uneasily slinging his backpack over his left shoulder. 

“I’m on my way home,” Jeno says, voice miraculously stable, though quieter than he’d intended. Jaemin raises an eyebrow.

Jeno may not know Jaemin, but he knows Jaemin. Uber-rich, pays for his grades, harrasses anyone who looks in his direction, utterly, heart-wrenchingly beautiful Jaemin. They have a psych class together, and even their professor doesn’t dare speak to him. He’s as terrorizing as he is gorgeous, and it would be a lie and a half for Jeno to act like he, just like half of campus, probably, hadn’t fantasized about Jaemin fucking or beating his lights out. All the more reason to avoid Jaemin’s gaze and go on his way. Not that he expects to be allowed to do that.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” Jaemin orders, and Jeno obeys. Pathetically. But if he’s not going to be killed by some other psycho tonight, he may very well be on the other end of the shiny silver bat Jaemin has resting far too nonchalantly on his shoulder. 

“I need to get home,” Jeno insists, looking Jaemin in the eye this time, which is far easier said than done. 

“You won’t make it,” Jaemin says, as casually as if he were discussing the weather, and because the entire world seems to revolve around Jaemin as much as he thinks it does, the Purge alarm goes off as soon as he’s done talking. “Come on,” Jaemin shouts over his shoulder, turning on his heel and making his way into an alley that can’t possibly spell good news for Jeno. But what choice does he have? Being on the outside of a locked door after 7 PM on Purge Night spells certain death, and he knows his apartment will have gone into lockdown by now. Maybe he’ll be Jaemin’s entertainment for the night. Or maybe he’ll live to see another sunrise. Right now, Jaemin is protection, and Jeno is in no position to run away from protection.

Jeno follows Jaemin down a maze of alleyways that he didn’t even know existed in Gyeongnam. He tries to make a mental note of every turn they take, but after a couple minutes in identical brick corridors he’s utterly lost. Jaemin exudes a “don’t speak you dare speak to me unless you’re spoken to” energy that Jeno is plenty happy to comply with, so they travel in silence, Jeno always a step behind. 

Eventually, they arrive at a plain, unmarked door, and Jaemin knocks once. The door swings open almost immediately, and Jeno sees two faces he doesn’t recognize and one face he does— Zhong Chenle, Jaemin’s… best friend? Boyfriend? He’s something more than the lapdog that the rest of university writes him off as. Maybe it’s the collective delusion of a campus full of people who would kill to be on Jaemin’s arm, or maybe it’s the knowledge that knowing anything about Jaemin is dangerous. Once, late as always, Jeno saw the two of them leaving the library after the hallways had emptied. He ducked behind a corner, of course, lest he take a beating for looking, but he saw their fingers interlocked. Not that he’d ever tell anyone that, because if he did, Jaemin would find out it was him. One way or another. 

“You know this kid?” Jaemin asks in lieu of a greeting, pushing past two intimidating— Jeno can literally only call them goons, with their all black get-up and guns, which he pretends not to notice. Chenle matches Jaemin’s stride, and they walk side by side into the building as Jeno trails behind. It’s dark but surprisingly not dreary— it has the feel of a college party, more than anything. Just with more guns and more drugs. 

“Lee Jeno. Fourth year, I think. Scholarship kid. High grades, teacher’s pet. He bought LSD from Renjun like… three years ago.”

Jeno pretends not to be shocked or embarrassed at these accusations being leveled against him as Jaemin turns around and gives him a very, very long once-over. 

“Are you?” Jaemin asks.

“Lee Jeno? Yeah, I am,” Jeno stammers, and Jaemin rolls his eyes. 

“Are you a teacher’s pet. Did you buy LSD from Renjun. Are you dumb?”

Jeno decides that arguing that “are you” could really only be demanding the answer to one of those questions would probably get him hurt. Still, he sucks in a deep sigh, his fear slowly turning into irritation.

“I guess I’m sort of a teacher’s pet. I did buy LSD from Renjun, I didn’t know you knew him. I’m not dumb.” He knows the last part was rhetorical, but he can’t help himself. 

Jaemin barely blinks, turning back around and leading the two of them up some stairs and across a catwalk that leads into what Jeno can assume is Jaemin’s office. It’s all dark wood, contrasted by the posters plastered all over the wall of video games and movies alike. Jaemin takes a seat at the desk, and Chenle stands next to him. Jeno presumes he’s expected to take a seat in one of the emerald colored chairs facing the desk, so he does.

“He can stay here,” Jaemin announces after about a minute of staring at him. Jeno is equal parts terrified and relieved. 

Chenle looks bored. “What’s he gonna do? Sit around?” His hand rests on the back of Jaemin’s neck, playing with the hair at his nape.

Jaemin shakes his head. “He’s coming with us, of course.”

8:07 PM

“What are you waiting for? Ring the doorbell,” Jaemin commands, sounding bored, and Jeno hopes no one can see how badly he’s trembling. He has no idea why they’re standing in front of one of the biggest houses he’s ever seen in his life, but he has an idea, and he doesn’t want to be responsible for whatever havoc Jaemin and his gang are going to wreak on whatever poor, unsuspecting people live here. Then again, he doesn’t want to die, either. He rings the doorbell. 

There’s no answer, obviously, and Jaemin scoffs behind him. “Jeno,” he says in an sweet tone that reeks of irritation, “try it again.” 

So Jeno does. Nothing. 

“Fucking asshole,” Jaemin spits under his breath, stomping up the stairs to pound on the door himself. “HELLOOOOOOO,” he shouts, that sickeningly sweet tone edging back into his voice. “I know you’re in there~! Open up!” 

Whoever is inside is smarter than that. Unfortunately, Jaemin’s run out of patience. With one hard swing, Jaemin’s baseball bat crashes into the doorknob, knocking in clean off. Jeno can only watch in a combination of horror and admiration as a perfectly aimed kick from Jaemin shakes the door. He’s traded his Oxfords for steel-toed combat boots, and Jeno has a sickening idea of why.

“FUCKING. ASSHOLE. PERVERT.” Jaemin screams, punctuating each word with another kick, and finally, the door gives way. 

The lights are all off, but Jaemin seems unbothered, regaining his composure as soon as he steps inside. 

“Find him,” is all he has to say, hoisting his bat over his shoulder. The men scatter, leaving Jeno in the dark with the most insane person he’s ever met. 

“Have you ever been to this side of town?” said crazy person asks, stepping further into the home. All Jeno can do is follow as Jaemin slinks into the living room, turning every light on. 

“No,” Jeno replies. Jaemin smashes the largest TV Jeno’s ever seen with his bat. 

“Killer parties, if you can sniff them out. Rich fucks everywhere. Would rather let their daughters overdose on cocaine in their own homes than in the streets. It’s honorable that way, right?” Jaemin strides over to a side table covered in picture frames. He plucks one out and scowls at it before dropping it on the ground and crushing the glass with his heel, continuing into the kitchen. Through the shards, Jeno can make out a bald man in a suit in front of a professional backdrop. He doesn’t reply.

“These people think money makes them invincible. They don’t protect themselves because they think everything they do is justified. Stupid,” Jaemin spits. 

“Jaemin,” someone shouts, and the two of them turn to see someone dragging the man from the photograph up the stairs they hadn’t yet reached. The smile that breaks out across Jaemin’s face is so full of glee that Jeno’s stomach turns.

“Hi there!” Jaemin says cheerfully, letting his men drop the man at his feet. He lands on his knees, face pressed into the ground. “I’ve been looking for you, you know. Follow me.”

The man moves to stand up, but Jaemin’s foot is on his shoulder in a split second. 

“On your knees,” Jaemin hisses. “You can crawl.” The man doesn’t even argue. It’s disgusting, really, watching this man who is twice Jaemin’s size and three times his age crawl after Jaemin as he struts into the living room as if he owns the place. 

“Up. On your knees.” It’s an order that the man quickly follows, clambering to his knees as if he were praying. 

“Now,” Jaemin croons, “Do you have any last words?” 

Maybe he didn’t. But maybe he did. It doesn’t matter, because before the man can say anything, Jaemin swings his bat. Hard. Bones crack, and blood spatters against the wall. The man collapses onto his side. Jeno can’t even stomach looking at his face.

No one speaks. No one even breathes. Then, Jaemin announces, “Okay, have fun,” like he’s presenting a piñata to a bunch of kids, and his gang lets loose. One person clambers over to the body, drawing a knife. A few others begin to ransack the kitchen and living room, looking for what Jeno can only assume are valuables.

“Bathroom,” Jeno mumbles, excusing himself before anyone can stop him. He stumbles down the hallway until he finds what he can only assume is the main bedroom based on the sheer size of it. Then again, this house is so massive that he wouldn’t be surprised if every bedroom looked like this. He considers that he would feel bad if he flopped on a now probably dead man’s bed, but then decides that it’s the Purge and he has bigger things to worry about and he doesn’t really care. He flops.

The image of Jaemin hitting that man in the face with his baseball bat is so crystal clear behind his eyelids that Jeno doesn’t know why he thought leaving the room would change anything. He vaguely feels the need to throw up.

The door opens, and Jeno has barely turned onto his back when Jaemin walks in. 

“Should have locked the door if you wanted to be alone,” Jaemin says, doing just that. 

“Just needed a second,” Jeno mumbles, getting off the bed and beelining for the bathroom. He doesn’t want Jaemin to see the terror that’s undoubtedly written all over his face. Unfortunately, Jaemin follows him.

“What did that guy do to you?” Jeno asks, hunching over the sink and turning the water on. He wants to hear something other than the sound of crunching bones ringing through his ears. 

“He cat-called my sister. She came home crying, but I told her to always remember the license plates of people who do bad things. It’s incredible what the make, model, and license plate number of a vehicle can do for you.”

The answer surprises Jeno. Frankly, he hadn’t expected there to be a reason at all. 

“Oh,” Jeno says, unsure of where to take the conversation. If he can take it anywhere at all. He watches the water swirl down the drain and wonders what he’s gotten himself into. 

“Hey,” Jaemin says softly, stepping closer to Jeno, who remains slumped over the sink. He reaches across him and turns the faucet off. “All of these people have it coming. I don’t hurt people who don’t deserve it. Just like how I’m not gonna hurt you.” 

Slowly, Jeno turns to face him, leaning against the counter. This is the closest he’s been to Jaemin all night. 

“I know you’re scared. Jeno, I’m not gonna hurt you, okay? I’ll keep you safe. Chenle and I will.” He cups Jeno’s face with one hand, tilting his head at him. 

“Okay.” It’s barely a whisper. Jaemin doesn’t let go of his face. Despite his best efforts, Jeno’s gaze flickers to Jaemin’s lips. It’s barely a sliver of a second, but Jaemin, as it turns out, is incredibly observant.

“Jeno, do you want to kiss me?” There’s a faint smirk playing over his pretty lips and all Jeno can think is yes. 

Heat rises to his cheeks. There’s no denying it. 

Jaemin continues on, clearly pleased, though with himself or with Jeno is anyone’s guess. “You think I’m pretty.” The corners of his mouth turn up into a smile that almost makes Jeno forget about what Jaemin did to the guy in the living room. 

“You are pretty.” Jaemin knows this, obviously, but he obviously also wants to hear Jeno say it. 

Jaemin smiles even brighter. “Can I kiss you?”

Jeno blinks. “You’re with Chenle,” he manages to spit out, at an utter loss for words except for those three. He couldn’t tell anyone which way was up with Jaemin this close to him, but he knows he won’t be able to handle whatever Chenle has in store for him if he goes through with this. 

Caught off guard, Jaemin frowns, just a little. Jeno is so mesmerized by the way he pouts ever so slightly that he nearly doesn’t register when Jaemin says, “What?”

“You’re with Chenle. He’ll kill me.”

The frown falls off Jaemin’s face. He tilts his head again, his big doe eyes widening as he takes in Jeno’s words.

“Huh. So you are smart.” 

“I don’t want to die,” Jeno replies, sort of joking, but after the events of the past twenty minutes, it’s not really funny.

Jaemin smirks. “Chenle likes to share,” he murmurs, and then his mouth is on Jeno’s. 

He’s a greedy kisser, but Jeno is more than happy to oblige. As his hands tangle into Jaemin’s hair, one of Jaemin’s twists into the fabric of his shirt, the other sliding up his stomach. Jaemin licks into his mouth impatiently, making Jeno whine when he presses a leg between Jeno’s. Jeno rocks gently against Jaemin’s thigh, trying to get ahold of himself and failing miserably when Jaemin places one hand on his waist, fingers dancing from his hips to his ribs before drifting lower and dipping past his waistband. With one of Jaemin’s hands in his pants and one gently squeezing the back of his neck, Jeno’s mind goes blank. 

Jaemin’s fingers wrap around the base of Jeno’s dick, and he tugs harshly, swallowing Jeno’s whines and absorbing the shocks of Jeno’s body as he jolts into him. Normally, a dry handjob wouldn’t be anything to write home about, but a dry handjob from Jaemin lights up parts of Jeno’s brain in ways he’s never felt before. It takes him an embarrassingly short amount of time to cum. 

“You’re pretty too,” Jaemin says, nipping at Jeno’s bottom lip before pulling away. He’s still hard. He raises his hand, covered in Jeno’s release, to his lips. Licks at the back of his hand like a cat lapping up milk. Jeno’s heart skips a beat. 

“Jaemin,” Jeno tries weakly, unsure of what he should be saying. 

“You sound pretty,” Jaemin continues. He moves to stand next to Jeno, staring at himself in the mirror. He’s just as flushed as Jeno. 

“Thanks,” Jeno replies meekly. He doesn’t know if he’s embarrassed that he just came in a ridiculously small number of minutes or guilt-stricken that he came in the hands of a guy he just witnessed smash someone’s face in. With a bat. 

“For the record, I’m not hiding Chenle. It’s quite obvious, actually, that we’re together if you pay attention. Most people don’t.” Jaemin turns to look at him. 

“Hair,” Jeno says in lieu of attempting to crack that open, hopping off the counter and fixing his pants. Jaemin’s hair has been pushed back, but a few locks have fallen out of place, no thanks to Jeno. His hands are in Jaemin’s hair again, mussing his bangs back into place, and Jaemin’s fingers are fidgeting around Jeno’s waistband when the door opens. It’s Chenle.

The panic in Jeno’s eyes as he freezes is as clear as Jaemin’s smirk, his hands trailing down lower than Jeno wants them to be in this particular situation. Chenle shows no reaction at all to his boyfriend grabbing someone else’s ass. 

“We need to move if you want to stick to schedule. They’re getting bored out there.” 

Jaemin sighs, giving Jeno one last squeeze before breaking away. “Fine.” And then, like he wasn’t all over Jeno two seconds prior, he grabs Chenle’s hand, and the two walk off without a backwards glance. Jeno notices a small piece of metal, just the right size to pop a bedroom door lock with, in Chenle’s other hand.

9:58 PM

Jaemin doesn’t make Jeno ring the doorbell at the next house. Instead, they go around the back to a massive glass sliding door, Jaemin cocking his head at Chenle once they’ve arrived. Without a word, Chenle pulls a center punch out of his pocket, shattering the glass in a matter of seconds. 

“Come on,” Jaemin barks, and he grabs Jeno’s hand, pulling him inside. Jeno practically trips over himself, glass crunching underfoot as he stumbles past Chenle. He can feel Jaemin’s boyfriend’s eyes burning into him.

This time, their victims are staring at them, wide eyed, as they enter the living room. Watching TV, as if tonight were any other night. The news is doing a segment on the history of the Purge in America and why South Korea adopted it as well. Currently, they’re discussing the lack of home security during the holiday in Korea, and Jeno wants to laugh bitterly at the timeliness of it.

Abruptly, Jaemin pulls a gun out of the back of his waistband and Jeno flinches away from him, taking a step back and finding himself pressed against Chenle. He didn’t realize he was so close to him. He didn’t realize Jaemin had a gun. 

“It’s okay,” Chenle murmurs into his ear. He places a hand on the small of Jeno’s back, steadying him. Jeno breaks out in a cold sweat. 

Jaemin cocks the gun, aiming it at the woman sitting on the couch. There are diamonds the size of grapes dangling from her ears. A young girl sits next to her, clinging onto a man with a stern-looking face. 

“You,” Jaemin barks, and the woman flinches. “Take her,” he continues, briefly aiming the gun at the girl, who shrinks into the man’s side, “Get inside a bedroom and lock the door. Don’t come out until the siren goes off, understand?”

The woman nods frantically, grabbing the girl’s hand and tugging her away, both of them casting anxious glances at the man as they make their escape. 

“We have to help them,” Jeno insists, inadvertently tracking the woman and girl as they flee up the stairs. Firm fingers dig into his side. 

“They’ll be okay. He won’t hurt them.” Chenle’s words are as steady as the grip he has on Jeno, but his eyes stay locked on Jaemin.

“Now,” Jaemin announces, approaching the man. He swings the gun casually about as he strides over before placing the barrel under the man’s chin. “To deal with you.”

“Do you want money? I can give you money, just name a price,” pleads the man. He’s desperate, scared. Without meaning to, Jeno shrinks into Chenle, who shifts so that he has one arm around Jeno’s waist. 

Jaemin digs the gun into the man’s skin, his finger dangerously close to the trigger. “Does she know?” he demands.

The man’s eyes circle the room wildly. Jeno’s hand flies to cover Chenle’s.

“Know what?” the man pleads.

“Does she know you push coke? Does she know you sell it to little girls?”

“They’re not little,” the man protests, “They’re adults. College students.” 

“Kids,” Jaemin hisses. “Does she know you cut it with fentanyl? Does she know four students in the past month have died because of you? Does she know they paid for this house?” The man is silent. “DOES SHE KNOW?” Jaemin roars, whipping his gun around. 

Jeno jumps. Chenle wraps both arms around his waist, holding him firmly in place. Part of his brain says that he would very much like being held like this by Chenle in another scenario. 

The man shakes his head— well, every part of his body is shaking already, but Jaemin gets the message. Jeno doubts Jaemin’s reaction would change with the man’s answer.

“You’re disgusting,” Jaemin spits. He places the muzzle of the gun on the man’s throat, the cold metal absorbing the vibrations of his throat as he swallows. Jaemin’s finger caresses the trigger. Jeno turns away, squeezing his eyes shut. The BANG! bounces off the marble floors and empty walls. When he’s brave enough to look, the blood makes him lightheaded. 

Jeno bends over and throws up, breaking Chenle’s hold on him. 

“I think I need to…” Jeno tries to say, weakly, but the words are lost in his throat. He doesn’t know what he thinks he needs. 

“Come on,” Chenle murmurs, wrapping a hand around Jeno’s wrist and steering him through dozens of spotless white walls until they end up on a large deck overlooking the city. The cold air fixes him little by little. He wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand. 

“Jaemin believes he’s doing the right thing,” Chenle says after a while. He doesn’t turn to Jeno, just stares over the railing they’re leaning on into the night. 

“Do you believe that, too?” Jeno asks. Chenle is quiet for a while.

“I believe if he wasn’t doing it, someone else might, and it might be worse. I believe his heart is in the right place.”

“He’s killing people.”

“I know.” Chenle sighs. “Jaemin doesn’t understand why people do the things they do. He doesn’t understand how anyone could live and be content knowing someone else is suffering because of them. He knows it’s not simple, but he wants it to be. He knows college kids are going to get their coke from someone else. He knows other men will harass his sister. But he wants to feel like he’s making a difference, even if you and I and even he, deep down, knows he isn’t. And he’s Jaemin, and I love him, so I stay. Someone has to take care of him.”

Chenle talks about loving Jaemin like it’s as simple as breathing. 

“How long have you been together?” Jeno asks, turning to stare at Chenle with unabashed admiration. He wonders if he’ll ever love someone that much.

“Long enough. And we’ll be together for longer. Whatever Jaemin wants, he gets.” He turns to Jeno as he says that, meeting Jeno’s gaze with an unspoken challenge in his eyes. “I’m going to do some clean up. We’ll get you before we leave.” With that, he’s gone, and Jeno is alone again.

Jeno turns around and hoists himself onto the banister, staring at his reflection in the window behind him. He wonders why Chenle wants him to want Jaemin, too. 

“There you are,” Jaemin says, breaking Jeno out of his trance. He refocuses his eyes on the man in front of him and tries to see him how Chenle sees him: not addled by overwhelming lust; accepting his eccentricities and loving his flaws. 

“There’s blood all over you,” Jeno says. His voice cracks on the word blood. 

Jaemin shrugs. “Comes with the territory.” He approaches Jeno, standing between his legs and wrapping his arms around Jeno’s waist. Jeno cups Jaemin’s face in his hands and rubs some blood off of his cheekbones with both thumbs. Jaemin gives him a wide smile. 

“Sorry I puked,” Jeno mumbles. It’s hard to hold Jaemin’s gaze as he stares down into his sparkling eyes but it’s equally hard to look away. 

Jaemin giggles. “It’s okay. You’re new.” Jeno runs his fingers through Jaemin’s hair. It’s quickly becoming a favorite pastime of his. Jaemin looks at him expectantly, and after a moment’s hesitation, Jeno leans down and kisses him. When they break apart, Jaemin reaches into his pocket before presenting a slim golden ring to him.

“I got you something,” he says proudly. 

Jeno’s stomach drops, but his heart swells with pride. He doesn’t want to think about the implications of Jaemin giving him the wedding ring of the guy he just shot in the throat. At the same time, it’s a gift from Jaemin, and it’s for him. He accepts the golden band and slips it on his ring finger. 

“Thanks,” he whispers. Jaemin beams.

12:09 AM

“I’m sorry,” some guy is blubbering, backing up against a wall as Jaemin stands a few feet in front of him, bat resting casually on his shoulder. He drums his fingers against the handle as the guy continues to beg and plead. Jaemin remains impassive as he slowly encroaches upon the guy’s space.

Jeno stands in an opposite corner of a room, observing. Jaemin’s men are spread about the house, ransacking it. There’s a small group raiding the mansion’s expansive liquor cabinet. Chenle stands next to him, eyes trained on Jaemin. Strangely, it doesn’t feel too different from any college party Jeno has been to. 

“Chenle,” Jeno mumbles. Chenle doesn’t look at him, so he repeats himself. Chenle’s cat-like eyes snap to meet his. “I don’t want to watch,” Jeno admits. 

“Do you want to go somewhere else?”

Jeno nods. Without a word, Chenle strides off, and Jeno follows him silently. Jaemin pays them no mind as they climb to the second floor, too busy kneeing the guy in the stomach to care. Jeno hears the guy shout behind him.

Chenle leads him to a bedroom at the end of the second floor, far enough away from the general commotion of downstairs that Jeno can actually hear himself think. He plops down on the bed, mindlessly fidgeting with the ring Jaemin gave him. 

Chenle perches on the bed next to Jeno.

“What do you guys do? I mean, when the Purge isn’t happening.”

Chenle stares at him, expression blank. If it was anyone else, Jeno would find them unnerving. For some reason, the weight of Chenle’s gaze doesn’t bother him. He sort of likes it. It reminds him of the expensive porcelain dolls he used to stare at in toy stores when he was younger.

“Normal stuff. Party. Go to class. Drink. Jaemin gets antsy sometimes, but I keep him in check. I’m the only one who can. He probably would have dropped out of school and started running a real gang by now if it weren’t for me.”

It’s funny, Jeno thinks. Jaemin makes the world move, but he still has to worry about graduating from college. And Chenle still has to take care of him. Jeno wonders when the last time Jaemin spoke to his parents was. 

“I like him,” Jeno blurts. For the first time, he sees Chenle crack a smile. 

“He likes you.” Chenle tells him this the way Jeno tells his friends that his cat likes them when they pet her.

“I like you, too,” Jeno admits, unsure of where this disregard for normal human communication is coming from. He’s known Chenle for all of 5 hours, but the thought of keeping any of this to himself hardly occurs to him.

“I know,” Chenle says.

Wordlessly, Jeno takes Chenle’s hand and places it on his own thigh. Chenle meets his gaze, something dark and satisfied flickering behind his eyes. 

“You’re sure?” 

Jeno only nods, biting his lip. That’s all it takes, and then Chenle’s hands are on his hips, guiding him onto the center of the bed and pushing him onto his back before crawling over him. Chenle pauses on his knees, deftly unbuttoning his jeans, and Jeno pulls his shirt off before fumbling to get his pants off. He gets them to his knees before Chenle yanks them the rest of the way off, depositing them on the floor and lifting Jeno’s ass onto his thighs. 

“Lube,” Chenle mumbles, like it’s just occurred to him, giving Jeno a look he can only describe as concerned, though he doesn’t think Chenle is the type of guy to be concerned. Before Jeno can even say anything, Chenle has already reached into his pocket and procured a small packet. 

“Really?” Jeno asks, the driest his voice has been all night. Maybe in his entire life. There’s probably a level of punishment that comes along with using that tone of voice with Chenle in any other context, but he can’t stop himself.

Chenle gives him the smallest quirk of his lips. “Jaemin is incessantly needy,” is all he says, and Jeno feels a bit faint.

Chenle is quick, but deliberate. He’s fast and slow at the same time. He opens the lube, and then time slows down as Jeno watches him spread it on his length with practiced precision, then speeds back up as Chenle presses the tip against his hole. 

“Okay?” Chenle asks. His voice is thick.

Jeno nods. He feels like he can’t breathe, but his chest is rising rapidly. Anxious, he wraps a hand around Chenle himself, pushing and pulling at the same time. Chenle helps, and then he’s buried to the hilt and Jeno can only blink at the stars spinning behind his eyes.

“Hey,” Chenle whispers, and Jeno refocuses his gaze on the man above him. 

“Hi,” Jeno says, stupidly. He feels like a lovesick puppy. Chenle smiles at him. And then he moves.

If Jeno couldn’t breathe before, he can’t breathe now. There’s an urgency in Chenle’s thrusts, but then at the same time the lazy smirk he gives Jeno suggests he could be going faster. And Jeno wants faster.

“I want— harder,” Jeno chokes out, and Chenle’s smirk only widens. 

“So greedy,” he teases, and Jeno blushes all the way down to his chest. But Chenle obliges nevertheless, gripping Jeno’s waist tight to hold him in place and fucking him with quick, deliberate motions. Jeno pulls a hand to his mouth to stifle his moans, but it’s pointless, because Chenle hits his sweet spot with every thrust and Jeno feels himself rapidly losing his grip on reality.

There’s a loud BANG down the hallway, and shouting, and Jeno is pulled out of his lovedrunk stupor enough to register that it sounds like Jaemin is dragging someone toward their room. He should stop. They should stop. Jeno meets Chenle’s eye— and immediately forgets whatever is going on in the hallway. They don’t stop. Not when a door swings open, slamming into the wall adjoining the room they’re in. Not when Jaemin screams something unintelligible and whoever he’s with cries out in response. Not when Jaemin hits him. Not when Jaemin hits him again, and again, and again, until the man stops screaming. Not even when Jeno realizes that Chenle’s thrusts are in time with the sound of Jaemin’s fists hitting skin.

Jeno comes all over himself before he knows what’s happening, and then Chenle pulls out, finishing on Jeno’s stomach. It’s quiet next door, and Jeno knows someone has died, but that knowledge feels like it’s trapped away in a box deep, deep in his mind that he can hardly reach. He reaches for Chenle, instead, who brushes Jeno’s sweaty bangs off of his forehead before kissing him for the first time. He tastes sweet. Jeno wants to kiss him forever. 

They break apart and Chenle runs his thumb over Jeno’s lip.

“Do you like me?” Jeno asks, voice small, arms wrapped around Chenle’s neck.

Chenle grins. “I like you a lot, Jeno.”

3:24 AM

It doesn’t hit him what they did until hours later. What he did. He’s far surpassed his vomiting quota for the evening, but he still feels nausea pass over him in waves. He’s scared because someone died and he didn’t do anything about it. He’s scared because he let Chenle fuck him while Jaemin beat the shit out of someone next door. He’s scared because he thinks he liked it.

Jeno knows he matters now. After he and Chenle finished, after Chenle cleaned him up with the meticulous care Jeno had only seen Chenle demonstrate with Jaemin, after Chenle helped him get dressed and followed him downstairs, letting Jeno lead the way, everything changed. 

Jaemin was sprawled out on the couch, long limbs akimbo, sucking on a lollipop, of all things. It was so ridiculous, so Jaemin. So carefree for someone Jeno had witnessed murder several people in one night. His head spun, and then Jaemin leaped off the couch, kissing him hard. Kissing him in front of everyone. Jeno kissed him back.

No one in Jaemin’s gang looked at him before, but they do now. Jeno knows he’s protected. He feels powerful.

He excuses himself during the main event of the house they’re in now, but he returns when the commotion is over. He doesn’t throw up when he sees the crumpled body at Jaemin’s feet. He steps over it, grabs Jaemin’s hand, and pulls him away. Jaemin follows him out to the porch without comment.

“Are you okay?” Jaemin asks once they’re settled. They’re sitting cross-legged across from each other, knees touching. Once again, Jaemin surprises him with the sincerity in his voice. Jaemin kills people, but he worries about Jeno. 

“Yes. I think so.” The weight of everything that’s happened since Jaemin gave him the wedding ring hangs in the air. Jaemin knows he had sex with Chenle. Everyone knows. 

“Why did you kill that guy?” Jeno asks. He has to know. Some dark part of him that curls up and licks at his stomach hopes that knowing will make him feel better.

Jaemin shrugs. “Does it matter?”

It catches Jeno off-guard. Does it? 

“I don’t know,” he admits, biting his lip. “I want it to. I guess. I don’t know.”

Jaemin leans closer, brushing Jeno’s hair out of his eyes. “It’s wrong. You know it is. It’s wrong, and I’m not doing a damn thing to change it. It doesn’t matter how many people I kill. Maybe it’s not just killing for killing’s sake, but it’s not some vigilante hero bullshit.” He pauses. “Do you want out?”

It’s dizzying, how straight-forward and simple Jaemin makes everything seem. Does he want out? Will anything change if he does? Maybe he does want out. Maybe he knows he’s already too far gone. All he really knows is he wants Jaemin. And Chenle. He wants them both. No matter the cost.

“I want you,” he says plainly. “I want you, and I want Chenle. And I don’t like what you do but I don’t care because it’s you. Maybe there’s something wrong with me.”

“There’s something wrong with all of us,” Jaemin says, grinning that endearingly, sickeningly sweet grin of his. “I want you too.”

Jeno leans in and kisses him. Jaemin kisses him back.

4:44 AM

When they get to the next house, Jeno’s stomach drops. He’s been here before. He knows this place. 

He stops in his tracks, and Jaemin’s gang filters around him, following Jaemin to the front door. Chenle brings up the rear and stops next to Jeno.

“I’ve been here before,” Jeno whispers. Chenle doesn’t acknowledge his words, but Jeno knows he heard him. He’s learning to interpret Chenle’s silence, little by little. 

“What happened here?” Chenle asks after a beat. 

Jeno squeezes his eyes shut, trying to remember. It’s all so blurry, and it’s been so long, but he feels it all flooding back.

May 21, 2022

The 6th Annual Purge of The United States of America

The 1st Annual Purge of The Republic of South Korea

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Jeno asks, nervously following Renjun up the driveway of a massive house. “Maybe we should just go back to the dorm. We don’t know these people.”

“We have ten minutes until the Purge alarm, idiot. We won’t make it back in time. Besides, nothing’s going to happen. It’s just a stupid Purge Party so we all have something to do for the next twelve hours.”

Jeno sighs. Renjun is right, they don’t have time to go back. Still, he wishes he knew at least one person that would be here besides Renjun. He likes Renjun, he thinks he trusts him. His therapist is always stressing to him how important it is to “forge new friendships,” so he’s trying. Really.

The owner of the house ushers the two of them inside, locking the door behind them. Jeno doesn’t catch his name, too overwhelmed by the sheer size of the home— it looks even bigger on the inside— and the amount of people inside. Most of them are crowded around a ginormous TV that’s counting down the minutes to the Purge. 

“Do you really think this is going to become a tradition here?” Jeno asks Renjun, turning to look at him, but Renjun is nowhere to be found. Instead, he sees the jock whose parents own this house, and he has a cup in both of his hands.

“Want a drink?” he asks, offering one to Jeno, and Jeno doesn’t, not really, but he takes it anyway. “Bottoms up,” the jock says before downing his in one go. Not one to be out-paced, Jeno does the same, trying not to wince at how utterly disgusting it tastes. 

“Ew,” he mumbles, and the jock claps him on the back.

“Have fun,” he shouts in Jeno’s ear, and then winks at him in a way that makes Jeno feel uneasy before disappearing into the crowd.

Twenty minutes later, everything is spinning. It’s too loud and yet everything he hears sounds like it’s coming from underwater. It feels like it’s been days since he’s seen Renjun. Deep inside his brain, an alarm goes off, telling him to find his friend. 

Delirious, Jeno wanders through hallway after hallway, room after room. He tries to call out for Renjun, but he can’t form words. He’s hot and cold at the same time and he sort of has to pee. 

Jeno stumbles into a bedroom, heading directly for the attached bathroom. The only thing making sense in his brain is that he needs to lie down. The promise of cool, hard tiles lures him into the bathroom, and he barges in without bothering to knock.

As it turns out, he’s going to wish he would have knocked.

In the bathtub, dead and bloody, is Renjun. Standing over his lifeless body is the jock. 

Jeno screams, but it doesn’t sound like it’s coming from him. It sounds far, far away. The jock just stares at him, horror written all over his face. He drops the knife into the tub. Jeno hears it clatter a mile away.

“I didn’t mean to,” whispers the jock. Jeno can only whimper. “I’m— I’m sorry,” stammers the jock, and he bolts, leaving Jeno to fall to his knees in front of the tub. Renjun’s eyes are still open. 

Jeno crawls into the tub and curls up next to Renjun, laying his head on Renjun’s chest. He cries until he can’t cry anymore. He stays there for twelve hours. 

“He killed Renjun,” Jeno says, hoarse. “The night of the first Purge. He killed Renjun.”

Chenle grabs his hand gently, but not to hold it. To press something into it. A knife. 

4:59 AM

“Hi, baby,” Jaemin calls when Jeno steps inside, Chenle on his heels. “I was just asking our esteemed guest if he remembered you.”

He does remember him, and it’s obvious the second he lays eyes on Jeno. The jock looks the same as Jeno remembers, only far skinnier than the last time he saw him. Jeno hopes it’s the guilt that’s been eating him alive. 

Jeno doesn’t say a word, just walks past Jaemin and kneels onto the ground, face to face with the man who killed his friend. He’s trembling, contrasting the  terrifying stillness and precision with which Jeno moves. 

“I didn’t mean to. I swear. My buddies, we all thought it would be fun to gather a bunch of people and see who tried to get away with some fuck shit. I swear, I never meant to hurt him, but I… I got carried away. They were all making bets, who would go the furthest and whatnot. I… I was on some crazy shit, man. I didn’t know what I was doing. If I could take it back, I would. I swear. I never wanted to hurt anybody.”

Jeno listens. Waits patiently for him to finish. When it’s obvious he has nothing to say to him, the jock panics. 

“Look, I’m sorry. Really, I am. I—”

“What was his name?” Jeno interrupts cooly. His voice is sharp enough to cut glass. 

“What?” 

“What. Was. His. Name.” Jeno repeats. 

The jock stares at him, crestfallen. “I don’t know,” he admits. 

Everything is over then. 

Calmly, precisely, Jeno raises the knife. The jock doesn’t even beg for his life. 

Jeno slits his throat. 

5:05 AM

The knife falls to the floor. Jeno knows he should feel remorse, if not for ending a life, then at least for his old friend. But all he feels is empty. The room is silent as Jeno slowly rises to his feet, almost toppling over, but Chenle is there to steady him.

Jaemin flanks him, leaning his chin on Jeno’s shoulder. 

“That,” Jaemin whispers in Jeno’s ear, “Was so hot.” 

7:19 AM

By the time the alarm sounds to indicate the end of the Purge, Jaemin and his gang are gone, tucked away at their hideout, no regard for the chaos they’re left in their wake. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. 

Jeno skulks around the lair for a while, snooping about to try to avoid thinking about the events of the evening. He quickly realizes, however, that the distraction isn’t necessary. Everything that happened that night flashes behind his eyes at steady intervals, and he feels nothing. 

Jeno head back upstairs, pauses outside Jaemin’s office. There’s commotion inside, and he should probably knock, right? But also, after tonight, Chenle and Jaemin won’t mind. Right?

He slips inside, locking the door behind him, and freezing in his tracks once he realizes what he’s walked in on. 

Jaemin is bent over his desk, Chenle behind him, very obviously balls deep inside him. He locks eyes with Jeno, not slowing his thrusts for a second. 

“Do— Do you always leave that unlocked?” Jeno asks weakly, knowling it’s wildly inappropriate for the situation but unable to come up with anything else to say for himself.

“No one else would be insane enough to come in here,” Chenle deadpans, grabbing one of Jaemin’s arms and yanking him backward. Jaemin whimpers. “Say hi to your pet, baby,” Chenle coos, and Jaemin just whines. Chenle slaps his ass like it’s an order.

“Hi, doggy,” Jaemin pants, his whole body tense with the effort of making eye contact with Jeno. 

Seeing Jaemin like this it’s— it’s almost too much, but Jeno is struck with the realization that it’s not enough all at once. 

Wordlessly, he crosses the distance between them. One glance at Chenle is enough to get him to let go of Jaemin’s arm, letting him collapse back on the desk. Jaemin gazes up at him through lidded eyes, his cheek pressed against the hard wood.

Jeno pulls his head up by his hair, and Jaemin smiles lazily at him.

“Do you still think I’m pretty?” he asks. He’s drooling.

“You’re so pretty,” Jeno replies.

“Even like this?”

“Especially like this.” 

Jaemin blushes for the first time.

Jeno crouches down, levels with Jaemin. Moves his hand to Jaemin’s chin, forces eye contact.

“Will you be good for me?”

Jaemin lights up. “I’m always good.” He says it like he really believes it, and Jeno believes him, too.

Jeno smiles. He presses a finger to Jaemin’s lips, and Jaemin opens his mouth compliantly. “Good boy,” Jeno whispers, pushing his finger into Jaemin’s mouth and dragging it along the inside of his bottom lip. He stands abruptly and Jaemin blinks up at him eagerly. Jeno spares another glance at Chenle, who gazes back at him cooly. There’s a challenge in his eyes, and Jeno is eager to accept.

He makes quick work of unbuttoning his jeans, pulling his cock out and guiding it to Jaemin’s mouth. He rubs the tip on Jaemin’s bottom lip and Jaemin lets his jaw fall open easily, tongue flicking out greedily. He wants this as much as Jeno does, and Jeno gives him what he wants. Jaemin always gets what he wants. 

And what he wants right now is a mouth full of cock. He gags, Jeno moans, and Chenle fucks him harder. 

“So good for us,” Jeno coos. Tears well in Jaemin’s eyes as he chokes, and Jeno lets him for a moment before pulling back. “So good for me and Chenle.”

“So— good—” Jaemin parrots back, pulling off Jeno briefly before swallowing him again. 

Jeno looks up at Chenle again, who smirks at him. Jeno watches, hypnotized, as Chenle moves a hand behind the desk, and he can only infer from the harsh motions of Chenle’s wrist that he’s jerking Jaemin off. He can feel it, too, feels Jaemin’s jaw go lax around him as he trembles from the stimulation. 

“Don’t be lazy,” Jeno murmurs, pressing on the back of Jaemin’s head, pushing his cock in deeper. Jaemin doesn’t have the energy to display anything other than exactly what he’s feeling on his face, his eyes shining. Jeno knows just from looking that Jaemin doesn’t want Jeno to think he’s lazy, he wants him to think he’s being good. He works his jaw again, uses his tongue again, and Jeno is pleased.

Jeno ruffles his hair, endeared. “There’s a good boy,” he whispers, and Jaemin, bent over his desk with both of his holes full, preens. Like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

“You just can’t contain yourself, can you?” Chenle chides, squeezing Jaemin’s waist with one hand, and Jeno knows that Jaemin came. He pulls out of Jaemin’s mouth, giving him a second to respond. 

“I– I can’t,” Jaemin whimpers, and then Chenle pulls out of Jaemin, too, and Jaemin cries out. 

“Come back,” he begs, and Jeno smirks at the same time that Chenle does. 

“On your back, come on, baby,” Chenle commands, and Jaemin looks so betrayed that Jeno wants to fawn over him and pat him on the head. 

“But… I can’t move,” he whines, and the brattiness Jeno’s used to hearing creeps back into his voice. 

Chenle rolls his eyes, but he places his hands on Jaemin’s waist, and Jeno watches with fascination as he gently helps Jaemin roll over onto his back. He wonders if he’ll ever understand the depth of the care that the two feel for one another. 

Once he’s on his back, Jaemin seems to be back to his normal self. “I want Jeno,” he orders, clicking his tongue impatiently like he’s not the one naked and sprawled out across his own desk. Chenle grins across the desk at Jeno, raising an eyebrow at him.

“You heard him,” he says, and Jeno finds himself walking to the other side of the desk before he realizes what’s happening. Jaemin spreads his legs and wraps them around Jeno’s waist. There’s cum leaking out of his hole and smeared between his thighs and muddling his stomach, a messy mixture of Jaemin’s and Chenle’s. Jeno hesitates and Jaemin drags a lazy finger across his stomach below his belly button, pushing it into Jeno’s mouth. Jeno licks it clean and places a hand on Jaemin’s face, drinking him in but not moving yet.

“Nervous?” Chenle asks from behind him. 

“A little,” Jeno breathes out, and Jaemin smiles up at him.

“Don’t be nervous, doggy.”

“Okay,” Jeno says. Chenle steps closer, wraps a hand around Jeno’s cock. Presses the tip into Jaemin’s hole. Lets go. Jaemin moans. Jeno does the rest.

“Wait,” Jaemin pants out when Jeno is fully seated inside him, “Chenle.” 

Chenle, who has never left from right behind him, peers over Jeno’s shoulder at Jaemin. “Yeah, baby?”

Something maniacal passes over Jaemin’s face. “D’you wanna fuck him again?” 

Jeno whimpers. Jaemin grabs at Jeno’s shirt, hard, and Jeno falls over him, bracketing Jaemin between his arms. “Promise you’ll like it,” Jaemin murmurs, wrapping his arms around Jeno’s neck, but that was never the question. All Jeno can do is shake his head yes and then Chenle grabs his waist, tugging his pants the rest of the way down. 

“You want it?” Chenle asks, breathing heavy in his ear. 

“Yeah, I want it,” Jeno whimpers, unable to break eye contact with Jaemin, who just smiles at him. 

He’s already bent over, and without a word, Chenle pushes into him with one steady thrust. The coolness of the lube makes him jolt, and then he’s just there, balls deep in Jaemin with Chenle buried in his ass. 

Humility doesn’t exist to him anymore.

He can’t move, he’s so overwhelmed, but Jaemin and Chenle are more than happy to pick up his slack. Maybe they planned this all along. Jeno is too far gone to care.

Chenle thrusts into him harder than Jeno remembers, and Jaemin absorbs every residual thrust that Jeno makes into him, fucking Jaemin only through the aftershocks of Chenle fucking him. Jaemin grinds on his cock, cupping Jeno’s face in his hands. He still commands attention, even when he’s bare naked on his back. 

“Wanna know a secret?” Jaemin asks, his words broken up by gasps every time Jeno thrusts into him.

Jeno nods like a dumb dog. “Yeah,” he pants. His head is spinning and there’s a tugging in his stomach that tells him he’s going to cum soon.

“I think you’re so hot,” Jaemin says. “I think you’re hot, and I knew who you were when you showed up here. I used to fantasize about you fucking me.” 

Jeno’s heart stops for a moment, and he giggles, cockdrunk and fucked silly, at the irony of it all. 

“I think about you fucking me, too,” he spills out, “I used to fuck myself and imagine it was you.” Jaemin feels so good around him and Chenle feels so good inside of him that it’s hard to concentrate on getting the words out in the right order. Jaemin’s heels dig into the small of his back and Chenle’s fingers grip his hips hard enough to leave bruises.

“Next time,” Jaemin pants. “I’ll fuck you so hard you forget about how Chenle felt inside of you. Okay, doggy?” 

Jeno’s vision goes black, and he cums. He collapses on top of Jaemin, buries his head in his neck. Vaguely, he registers that Jaemin is cumming, too, feels him coat both of their stomachs. Chenle cums last, spilling inside of him. 

“Promise?” he asks. He licks lazily at Jaemin’s neck. 

“I promise,” Jaemin whispers. 

Chenle watches them with bemusement. Neither of them see the look of satisfaction that crosses his face the moment he knows that he finally has them both. 

—

March 21, 2026

The 10th Annual Purge of The United States of America

The 4th Annual Purge of The Republic of South Korea

The mansion Jeno stands in front of strikes him as tacky. The lights are off and the door is locked, but it doesn’t matter. He uses a crowbar to pry the door open and forces his way inside, Jaemin on his heels swinging his shiny new bat around. It has spikes on the end, now. Jeno doesn’t have to look to know that Chenle is bringing up the rear. 

“Jeno,” Jaemin pouts once they’re inside, “There’s no one here for me to play with.” His face is illuminated only by the moonlight of the open door. Jeno caresses his face gently.

“Don’t worry. We’ll find them.”

Ten minutes later, Jaemin’s victim is on his knees in front of him, hands behind his head. Jeno watches, expressionless, as Jaemin smashes his face in. Blood pools on the ground. Jaemin drops his bat lazily. Jeno kisses him on the mouth.