bloodline. ateez x reader

|20| the value of a life

not to flex but thhis was written befor ethe drunk ateez episode caem out

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It was chilly in that attic. Two pairs of socks had been covering your toes and they were still numb. You migrated downstairs, where a body lay on the couch, a decorative pillow covering their face and a thin blanket draping over their body. Hongjoong was sat on the carpeted floor, his electric blue hair visible from miles away, and a pile of lumpy cloth stretched across his lap. Only a single light above the coffee table had been turned on, illuminating the space in a warm, gentle glow along with the blinking colors of the television.

You slowly neared the couch and lowered yourself onto the floor next to Hongjoong. He only blinked at you before he returned to his task.  "Hi," He greeted lowly.

"Hey," You greeted just as quickly, as he carefully pulled the needle through the cloth. It looked like a hoodie, with a small silver logo plastered on the front. Hongjoong looked relaxed, calmer than the day before, when he was standing at the edge of your bed, softly pleading you to forgive them.

The TV hummed in the background. There was a drawn-out silence between you and you felt the need to say something. "You know I feel bad about the other day."

At that, he turned to you, subtle surprise in his eyes that was just barely noticeable. It was only a glance, though, since he was close to poking himself with a needle. "For what?"

Your throat felt dry. You tried to string together words that would satisfy him enough to keep him talking. Despite the lack of conversation you needed him to keep talking to you. "For being difficult," You settled on.

"You like to doubt everything. You're careful. Can't get mad at you for that," He hummed.

"Do you know why I doubt you? Because you don't tell me anything. The one piece of information I got from you felt like a story. I didn't know the hospital was about you, you know." It was the only glimpse at their past he allowed you.

"I'm not trying to keep things from you. But when I do it's because you don't need anything else to keep you up at night." As Hongjoong pulled the needle through the cloth, the thread snapped and the knot became undone. He breathed a quiet curse and pinched the needle in his fingers to search for the end of the small thread. You took it from his hovering hand, and found the end of the thread easily, taking over his task. He was doing it wrong anyway. The boy voiced no complaints, and instead opted to watch your soft and steady hands sew the tear. 

"I can handle myself," You told him, pulling the threads together with ease. "I'm an adult. What keeps me up at night has nothing to do with you. Besides, you sent San for me because you wanted me afraid. You're being hypocritical."

He scoffed. "First of all, hardly . You are hardly an adult. You're, what, same age as me? And we're still so young in the grand scheme of things, you know." He relaxed his back against the sofa, crossing his arms in front of his knees. "Secondly, I would have never let him hurt you."

"'Definitely got close." You retorted and the sound of gentle footsteps ceased your conversation. A tall, built man in a muscle tank stepped out from the bathroom, wet hair a mess. It was only a moment before San's face was illuminated by the ceiling light.

"Yo, Joong, what day is it?" He asked Hongjoong with a towel to his sopping wet hair.

"Sunday," Hongjoong said.

San twisted the towel above his head in an obnoxious stretch, a smile breaking onto his face. "Soju Sunday." He hung the towel on his shoulder and clapped his hands. " Soju Sunday!"