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Zen didn’t know much English.
It had always been something he was a little sensitive about. Jumin and Jaehee were fluent, with the certificates to prove it. V was fluent as well, and Rika had known more than enough to carry on conversations. Yoosung was passable, but claimed he was just out of practice.
And then there was you. His American sweetheart, with books in five different languages scattered around your house, spilling off shelves and teetering in piles on the floor. You were an editor, you told him on the night of that first party. Fantasy, mostly, but sometimes you did work in science fiction, and maybe some general fiction if you felt the story was exceptional.
He loved to watch you talk about books. It was like your face lit up. You didn’t even cover your mouth with one hand like you normally did when you smiled.
(You had confessed that in middle school, your front teeth had been crooked, and that you wrinkled your nose up when you smiled. That was cannon fodder for the other kids.)
(Zen could have killed them in that moment for making you think you were anything other than exceptional.)
It was another kind of joy to listen to you on the phone with other people. All the languages you spoke sounded distinct, even though your voice was the same. Your German sounded soft but rough – he had thought you were sick the first time he heard it. French, on the other hand, had breathy tones to it; it truly was the language of love. Your English, though, was something else. Clear cut and sharp, like glass falling from your lips. There was nothing soft to his own ears, but something about the way your lips formed the words was different than when you spoke other languages. Maybe it was just more natural for you, being your native tongue.
It was probably that, since all your pet names for him were in English. Sweetheart. Honey. Darling. Beautiful. He loved all your pet names for him, but his favorites were any that involved the word love.
The things the word love made your tongue do were downright sinful. To make matters worse, you didn’t notice the effect it had on him. And Zen couldn’t even explain it, since he didn’t know what parts of the word made your mouth do that thing, something that wasn’t even terribly pronounced.
All he knew was that he adored it.
“What do you think about moving in with me?”
The knife he was washing nearly slipped out of his hand, but he caught it and set it down before wiping his hands on a towel. He schooled his expression into one of careful neutrality before he turned around. “What do you mean?”
You cocked your head to the side and gave him a quizzical smile. “Um, just what I said?”
He kneaded his hands in the dishcloth, forcing himself to make eye contact with you. “I, uh. I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
Your face fell, and he rushed to correct himself. “Not that I don’t want to! Because I do, princess. I would love to move in with you. But I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Since, you know, I’m a guy… and you’re my girlfriend…” He intentionally let his sentence trail off, giving you what he hoped was a meaningful look.
You raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin curling on your lips. You crossed your arms and leaned over the back of the couch, giving him what was no doubt an intentional view of your cleavage where your neckline dipped down. He could see the tan lines running up your shoulders, and it occurred to him that he didn’t know if you were a bikini or a one-piece kind of girl. It also hit him that he couldn’t see a bra strap. He swallowed hard and made sure to focus on your face. Your eyes. Eyes were safe.
No, they weren’t. Not with the way you were looking at him right now
“Is this about ‘the Beast,’ Hyun?” God, the way his name rolled of your tongue was unholy. “I’ve heard a lot about him. It’s a shame we haven’t been introduced yet.”
“Princess, please,” Zen said, giving you a desperate look. His mind was racing a thousand miles a minute, and he was already half-hard just from the thoughts alone.
You let go of the back of the couch and slid behind the cushion, giggling. “I’m sorry. You’re just so cute when you’re flustered.” You calmed down after a minute and looked back over at him. “As far as the Beast goes, Hyun, I really don’t mind. I trust you. Besides, rent is skyrocketing right now, and I have an extra bedroom if you don’t want to share one with me.”
Share a bedroom with you? God, there was nothing he wanted more than to fall asleep with you under the same blanket, to feel your skin underneath his hands, to be next to you for the whole night. He closed his eyes at the thought before opening them again.
“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” he said, resolve crumbling. “And our relationship is still kind of new. You don’t think the proximity would be a strain?”
You raised your eyebrow at that. “I hate to break it to you, sweetheart,” you said, and he loved the sound of the English endearment amidst the Korean, sharp as glass and warm as honey, “but seven months is not a ‘kind of new relationship.’ That’s a solid track record. And how on earth would living with you be a strain?” You laughed. “You’re amazing in every sense of the word, my love.”
“Say that again.”
Your eyebrows drew together, and your lips turned down in a soft frown. “My love?”
There was that word again. And God, your tongue.
And just like that, the last of his resolve washed away.
You were humming something to yourself as you washed the dishes, a simple tune that Zen started to hum as well, bending over a script. His eyes traced the words, but he wasn’t processing any of it. He was too busy summoning up the courage to ask a potentially embarrassing question.
Zen took a breath and set his papers down. “Honey?”
You turned around to look at him in surprise. He supposed that until now, you had never heard him speak English. “Yeah?” you replied tentatively.
He took another deep breath, rehearsing the sounds in his head. He knew what they supposedly said, but not which words were which. “Can you teach me English?”
Wide eyes watched him, blinking a couple time before you opened your mouth to respond in Korean. “I… uh. Um. I mean, I can try, but I’m not an English teacher.”
Zen smiled, relieved that you were taking him seriously. “You’re the smartest person I know, princess,” he said reassuringly.
“No, you don’t understand.” You were frowning, and his gut twisted itself into knots. “English is a stupid fucking language.”
His stomach immediately untied itself at the shock of you swearing in Korean. Zen had never heard you swear in Korean.
You continued, oblivious. “Like, it’s not even a real language, honey. It’s three languages stacked on top of each other’s shoulders dressed in a trench coat trying to get into an R-rated movie. It doesn’t make any sense and every rule has at least one exception and because it’s got influences from a bunch of European languages, nothing works the same.” You looked up at him with a sigh, face serious. “I don’t mind trying to teach you. You’re very smart, and I know you can learn. But what I’m telling you is that it’s going to be really fucking hard, and you’re not going to like it in the slightest.”
Zen considered this for a moment, then decided he didn’t care. “That’s okay, Princess.”
It would be worth it to know what letter made your tongue do the thing.
“You know the alphabet?” You had drawn out the English alphabet on a piece of paper, each character large and distinct. It was a little embarrassing to Zen, sitting next to you on the couch and having to start all the way at the alphabet, but you assured him that was normal.
“Whenever you start something,” you had explained while writing the alphabet out, “you automatically become the worst at that thing. That’s just how it works. When you pick up learning later in life, it can be hard to remember what it’s like to be bad at something, and it’s not a good feeling. But, the more you learn, the less bad you become at it. So, it’s important to keep in mind that with everything you learn, you’re only getting better. Don’t focus on what’s bad. Focus on what’s good.” You shifted the notebook closer to him, tapping the eraser of your pencil on the page. “The best part about being the worst at something is that you can only get better.”
He nodded, shaking off his distaste. You talked him through each character, speaking slowly and clearly, exaggerating the motions so he could copy you. When you were about halfway through, he saw it.
“Again,” Zen said. “Say that one again, please.”
You complied, looking a little confused. “L.”
With the exaggerated motions, it was easy to see your tongue move up behind your teeth and gracefully unfurl. Zen leaned towards you, running his fingers over your cheekbone and down under your chin to lift your face up.
“Again?” he asked, voice lowering to a breathy whisper.
“L.”
“Once more for me.”
The whisper of a letter ended in a sigh as his lips met yours. Fire burned through him at the touch of your lips, the way your mouth opened under his. Your fingers raked up his sides to tangle in his hair, tugging it out of its ponytail, and a surge of love swelled up in his chest. It was so intense that it was almost painful.
Zen pulled back to look at you with wide eyes, taking in the sight of you reclining on the back to the couch. You quirked one eyebrow up at him as you smiled and brought the elastic in your hand up to your mouth. When you took it between your teeth and tugged on it, ever so gently, it was like someone had punched him in the stomach.
He threw one leg over your lap, the notebook sitting on the coffee table all but forgotten, and he reveled in the surprised look on your face.
“Let me see if I have this right,” he breathed, leaning in close to your face with a smirk. “L?”
“Almost,” you replied, leaning up until the two of you were nose to nose. “More like this.”
Your tongue unfolded to touch his lips and the two of you were kissing again, hungrily, passionately. The twist of your head was stunning, the way it opened up your neck to his attentions, divine. You threaded your fingers through the hair at the base of his neck, pulling him in closer, and he couldn’t help but start laughing as he kissed your clavicle.
The two of you shifted without ever stopping the kiss until you were hovering above him as he reclined across the cushions. He nuzzled your neck before kissing it again.
“God,” you whispered, voice a breathy laugh. “I think you’ve ruined the alphabet for me, you know?”
He laughed. “I’ve already learned so much,” he purred, looking up at you from under his lashes.
“Oh?” Your smile was coy, and your fingers caressed his jaw, pulling his face back to yours. “And what’s that.”
He smiled, the expression sharp and sweet at the same time. “That L is the most obscene letter I have ever seen.”
Your brow furrowed for a second before you burst out laughing and kissed him again. “You did this on purpose.”
He shrugged, still smiling as he kissed your ear and down your jawline. “Maybe. I just love what it makes your mouth do.”
You kissed him again before pushing his chest so that you sat up. “Nice try, but we’re still doing this.”
Zen sat there for a moment, confused, before groaning. “Babe!”
You tugged at the end of a strand of hair. “If you work hard, we can pick up where we left off later.”
He swallowed, then laughed. His kiss was chaste and sweet, a contrast from his earlier kisses. “I think I can manage that, Princess.”