Better hold on tight, here comes the night. [October 31st, 2017]

[no_voice]

The day finally arrived, and Jason battened down the hatches in every way he could think of; he had no plans to leave his apartment at all, not even before the start of the Purge. He didn't want to take chances, not even the slightest one. He'd already stocked up on supplies - food, toiletries, batteries, first aid materials, etc. Not a fan of guns by any stretch of the imagination, Jason invested instead in a couple of baseball bats, made of alloy for maximum damage should he find it necessary to defend his apartment.

He shut all the windows and locked them; he took the time also to tape them in the same way he'd seen people caught in hurricanes do, just in case. He'd moved everything that he thought they would need into his bedroom, the room furthest from the door. Once Peter arrived, he planned on shoving the sofa against the door, along with as much furniture as he could get away with, creating a barricade.

With Peter's apartment being on the second floor, he supposes it would make more sense to hole up there. But he doubts if Peter really wants him in his apartment, so when he texted Peter with the call to hide out, he'd offered up his own home easy enough. Peter would always be welcome, whatever that might be going on between them.

Jason misses Peter terribly, a constant ache in the hollow of his chest that echoes loudly throughout his thoughts. But he knows that Peter has been through a lot, and he has his promise to Magnus to keep. Beyond his love for Peter, he didn't want to be alone for the Purge, and, Peter being the only other person from home, and his closest friend, still, had been the one person he wanted to wait out the horrors with.

Now he's making last minute preparations before Peter can arrive. He makes sure to have the healthy foods Peter likes, as well as his own junk comfort food. He stores most of it in a mini-fridge he'd bought for his bedroom, as well as the variety of drinks, none of them alcoholic. He wanted to be alert and aware tonight; he wanted to survive.

He makes sure he has his most comfortable blankets and pillows out; the baseball bats he stashes next to the bed, within easy reach.

If these were ordinary circumstances, there would be so many jokes to be made; he and Peter would probably spend most of the night laughing together. But they aren't, and so, grim-faced, Jason waits for Peter to arrive.

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[paper_courage]

Oh God, oh God, work had gone over. By the time he was leaving the store, the sun was going down. Panic cinched in his chest. Peter wasn't sure he was the type of person that could kill, even in self-defense. If someone tried to Purge him, Peter had his faith, at least. In Darrow, the Hand of God had reached out to him, more so than any prophetic dream or lonely evening.

Even the Rock of Ages couldn't protect him from the Purge. This seemed like a phenomenally fucked up idea.

As Peter got to his car, the alarm sounded: a blaring, apocalyptic noise that rang loud in Peter's ear. He shoved himself into the car and buckled. People were beginning to scatter, running for shelter.

Any idea Peter had possess about going home was gone. He was not going to sit the Purge out alone, and he wasn't going to let Jason be alone, either. Even if they were just friends, they were best friends, and when Peter thought about who he wanted to spend the end of the world with, it was no contest.

A smattering of people with actual Goddamn torches were heading for -- well, Peter didn't know what, but just in case it was his car, he slammed the thing into drive. He thought for a second of Kavinsky. Was he safe? Worse: was he involved in this madness?

It was a serving, tense mess, getting to Ocean View. Once there, he saw a mob. An actual fucking mob. They were trying to tear the door down, clawing at the key slot, climbing over one another like rats in a cage. How could a person be capable of this? How was he supposed to get in to Jason? What if he was hurt already?

A bright yellow car careened down the road with no one in it. It slammed into a fire hydrant, soaking the onslaught of people to the bone in the cold, nearly-November air. They opened to a great divide between them, and Peter saw his chance. He shot himself from the car and he ran faster than he knew he was capable of. He didn't look back. He shoved himself in through the door and locked it behind him. Too on alert to stop and take a breath, he shot himself toward Jason's, knocking frantically on the door.

"Jason," he said, his voice a little pinched from his pitch across the grass and into the building. He smacked his palm on the door again. One of his neighbors was standing in her open doorway, staring at Peter in the most unsettling way. She smiled. Peter's heart forgot how to beat. She started toward him.

[no_voice]

Jason hears the noises outside his window, the inevitable sounds off people gathering and mayhem brewing, from the eager shouting to the bone-chilling sounds of weapons sharpening. He glances down at his watch, cringing as Peter still hasn't shown up yet. He does something he would never otherwise do, and really, he only does it because it's Peter: he prays.

He's so distracted by his own worries and fears, he doesn't hear the knocking until the second time around. Hurriedly, he dashes to the door.

"Peter!" He says by way of greeting, all but pulling the young man inside, catching only a brief glimpse of their creepy neighbor before slamming the door, locking and bolting it behind them.

"Here," he says, leading Peter to the bedroom. "I know, I know, but it doesn't have any windows, so it should be safe enough. Go settle in while I barricade the door."