Hell's Princes, Earth's Kings - ATEEZ Reader Inserts

The King of Rot - Hongjoong

The sweet scent of the thriving plants tangled with the humidity in the air. The shades above me kept the heat of the rising sun from my skin as I did a quick walkthrough of the nursery. I removed the wilting and rotting plants, tucking them away in hopes I could recover them later, and began the process of watering the rows of greenery.

Once I finished, I opened the front gate, and like clockwork, Hongjoong blew past me. Every day, he ran in here like it was his addiction to be among the plants. Like he'd hardly survived the night being away from them.

It was odd. Considering he never left with anything.

If I weren't so pathetically enslaved by his eyes I would kick him out for loitering. But the hold he had on me was beyond that of a simple crush. There is an unidentifiable sweetness to him, one that's never shown itself aside from the awkward glances and forced smiles.

I'm drawn to him. And I will be until I invade whatever walls he's built around himself.

He's come here for an entire season every day that I've been open. He's spoken one word to me, and it was his name. As frustrating as it is, he doesn't come off as rude. At first, I thought I was just giving him more credit than he deserved because I thought he was cute, but the more I watch him, the more I think he's nothing but broken, or ill.

More often than not he'd come in pale as can be, with his eyes so ridden with exhaustion they looked bruised, and his blackish-brown hair in such disarray I could hardly tell how long it was. His clothes were intricate and well-made, as dark as his hair and the bags under his eyes, but they were always thrown over his body like he put them on out of necessity, not desire. I'd started to believe he was incapable of smiling. On the days that I deemed worse than others, he'd come in with patches of red and blistered skin peeking out from his clothing.

Plant nurseries don't exactly attract hordes of stunningly good-looking men, especially not this early in the morning. But Hongjoong was an exception. Even in such a state of obvious illness, he was gorgeous in an ethereal way. I'd compare him to some sort of vampire prince or dark fairy.

Now, we're alone. As we usually are this time of morning. In a seemingly romantic setting, but with some invisible barrier between us. Today was the first day I decided to try a tactic opposite of what I usually do.

Since prodding at him and drowning him in questions never seems to work, today I decided to treat him the way he treats me. Like he doesn't exist.

He walked past me at the gate and I didn't say a word. I worked around him like he wasn't there. Aside from the occasional glance at his hands or his shoes, I ignored him.

The day dragged on. Hongjoong stayed until the middle of the afternoon when closing time rolled around. He was always the first to get here and the last to leave. I sat at my makeshift check-out counter and picked chipping paint from the warped wood as I waited for him to escort himself out.

I watched from the corner of my eye. He stopped just before leaving the gate and stared directly at me with a slight tilt of his head. The sound of slow footsteps walking over to me nearly got me to shoot my gaze over to him. But I resisted until he was right in front of me.

"You didn't talk to me today." He said in a monotonous and dreary tone. "Have I done something to anger you?"

"Anger? No, of course not."

"Then why have you shunned me?"

"I just figured you didn't want to talk to me."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because I talk to you every single day and you've never said a word to me. Or smiled. Or addressed me at all."

He nodded, "I feel remorse for my actions."