“Speak,” Zitao demands the night they move into their new room in China.

    That’s possibly the most over-used word that the Chinese members of Exo say to Minseok on a regular basis. Well...Minseok and Jongdae. They say it to Jongdae too.

    ‘Speak,’ Yixing reminds them while he and Kyungsoo make breakfast.

    ‘Speak,’ Luhan murmurs encouragingly into Minseok’s ear as they move through the airport.

    ‘Speak,’ Wufan snaps after they return from Manderin lessons.

    Minseok knows that his band mates mean well - reminds Jongdae of this fact every time that the younger boy complains - but that doesn’t mean he can’t silently despise it.

    Minseok is Korean. Korean, not Chinese. Mandarin isn’t his native language, and he hates being constantly reminded of how obvious this little fact is. But when they demand that he and Jongdae speak - like a talking monkey at a freaking circus - Minseok immediately launches into the poorly memorized Mandarin phrases that he’s learned that day, with Jongdae trailing unhappily behind.

    “Nǐ hǎo,” Minseok says immediately when Zitao asks, barely having time to close the bedroom door behind him before he’s barraged with the dreaded word. “Wǒ tīng bù dǒng.” I don’t understand. “Wǒ bú huì shuō zhōngwén.” I can’t speak Chinese. “Nǐ hǎo ma?” How are you. “Hěn hǎo, xièxie.” Fine, thank you.

    “No,” Tao states flatly, in Korean. “New.”

    The only thing that makes rooming with Zitao bearable, thinks Minseok, is that he’s just as bad at Korean as Minseok is at Mandarin. Of course, that doesn’t give him much hope.

    “Búyào dǎrǎo wǒ,” Minseok begins, returning to what he’d learned that day with Jongdae, holed up in a tiny room with their translator. Leave me alone. “Wǒ yào jiào jǐngchá le.” I’ll call the police. “Wǒ xūyào nǐde bāngzhū.” I need your he-

    “Bāngzhù,” Zitao corrects patiently. “Repeat.” Minseok takes a deep, calming breath before trying again.

    “Wǒ xūyào nǐde bāngzhù.” I need your help.

****

    The second most over-used word is ‘repeat’. Repeat is generally said after Minseok or Jongdae have been corrected. Pronunciation is hell and Tones are hell and Minseok is pretty much done with the whole language.

    It’s also used when Minseok or Jongdae say a word in Korean that the Chinese members don’t understand. This happens most often with Zitao, but isn’t limited to him. It happens with Yixing almost as much. Usually, Luhan and Wufan just look at Minseok weird and say “what?”

****

    “Speak,” Zitao orders when Minseok enters their shared room. Since moving to China, Zitao seems to be Minseok’s personal sound board, and Minseok assumes that has something to do with Wufan.

    Minseok sighs, gets comfortable on his bed, and speaks.

    “Wǒ mílù le.” I’m lost. “Wǒ shēngbìng le.” I’m sick. “wǒ shòushāng le.” I’ve been injured. “Wǒ kěyǐ dǎ ge diànhuǎ ma?” Can I use your phone?

    “No,” Zitao says, giving Minseok a small, encouraging smile. Minseok is not, in fact, encouraged. “Diànhuà. Repeat.”

    “Diànhuǎ,” Minseok attempts, and Zitao shakes his head.

    “Diànhuà.”

    “Diànhuà.”

    Zitao’s smile is blinding when he reaches over give Minseok a quick hug. “Good. Repeat.”

    “Diànhuà,” Minseok says again, and if possible Zitao’s smile grows even more.

    “Good!”

    Minseok feels a little bubble of something growing in his chest, and realizes almost too late that it’s the feeling of accomplishment. He finds himself smiling back.

    The moment is ruined when Jongdae bursts into Minseok and Zitao’s bedroom and shouts “this is going to kill me!”

    Minseok assumes that Wufan’s been doing the same thing to Jongdae that Zitao’s been donig to Minseok. The difference, of course, is that Wufan is a perpetually impatient person, and Zitao is not.

    Another reason why Minseok prefers rooming with Zitao (though there would be a lot less of a language barrier if Minseok had gotten to room with one of the others) is because Zitao is, specifically, not Wufan.

    “You can hide in here until lights out if you want,” Minseok tells Jongdae sympathetically, watching as the younger boy gives him a grateful smile and slides onto the bed next to him.

    They both turn expectantly to Zitao, who’s looking at the two of them with furrowed eyebrows. “Repeat?” He asks hopefully, and, with a lot of arm-flailing and loud, obnoxious words, Minseok does his best to translate the situation.

****

    Another over-used word (or in this case: words) is ‘this means’. The Chinese members don’t say it in Korean like they do with ‘speak’ and ‘repeat’. Instead, it’s ‘zhè yìwèizhe’.

    ‘Xīngqīyī. Zhè yìwèizhe ‘Monday’. Repeat.’

    ‘Huáng sè. Zhè yìwèizhe ‘Yellow’. Repeat.’

    ‘Hǎochī jí le. Zhè yìwèizhe ‘it was delicious’. Repeat.’

    There’s a small chance that Minseok has heard the words ‘zhè yìwèizhe’ almost as many times as he’s heard ‘Nǐ huì jiǎng zhōngwén?’

    The answer, by the way, is no. No, Minseok doesn’t speak Chinese. And he hates it.

    On a side note: Happy Camp can burn in hell.

****

    “Speak,” Zitao says, and Minseok hasn’t even opened the door yet. He does so, walking into the room and looking at Zitao in confusion.

    “How did you know I was there?” Minseok asks, and Zitao’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

    “What?”

    Minseok thinks that maybe Zitao’s been spending too much time with Wufan and Luhan. He almost misses the confused ‘repeat’, that he’s used to. It’s hardly his fault that Zitao looks so damn adorable when he says it.

    “How,” Minseok begins slowly, shrugging his shoulders emphatically, “did you-” he points to Tao, “know-” and points to his own head, “I was there-” and points to the door.

    Zitao stares at him blankly for a minute before his eyes widen in sudden understanding and he says “Nǐ dàshēng de zǒu” much too quickly for Minseok to even begin to understand.

    “Shěnme?” Minseok asks in confusion, and Zitao huffs. Though Minseok doesn’t think he should be allowed to be annoyed. He asked in Mandarin, after all.

    “Nǐ-” Zitao points to Minseok, even though Minseok already knows what ‘Nǐ’ means. “Dàshēng de-” he practically screams, making Minseok jump in surprise. “Zǒu,” he finishes much more quietly, tapping his feet on the floor exaggeratedly.

    You -something- feet? You have screaming feet? No, have is ‘Yǒu’ and Zitao didn’t say ‘Yǒu’...

    Seeming to realize that Minseok isn’t getting it, Zitao sighs and stands up before stomping over to him and giving him an exasperated look.

    ‘You walk loudly’, Minseok realizes with a start, and it prompts him to glare at the maknae.

    “Nuh-uh.”

    Zitao grins, because he knows that one. “Yeah-huh,” he says, grabbing Minseok’s hand and pulling him to the nearest bed. “Now speak.”

    They get comfortable on said bed (it’s Zitao’s of course, because he’s a lazy bastard), Minseok letting the maknae curl into him and rest his head on Minseok’s chest before starting.

    “Qǐng dǎbiǎo,” Minseok begins, smoothing the hair down on Zitao’s  head because it keeps tickling his chin. He doesn’t stop even when the tickling does. Please use the meter machine. “Qǐng kōngtiáo kāi dàdiǎn.” Zitao begins tracing the patterns of Minseok’s shirt with a concentrated finger. Please turn up the air conditioner. “Qǐng kōngtiáo kāi dàdiǎr.” Please turn up the heater. “Qǐng gěi wǒ kànkan càipǔ?” Zitao’s trek across the lines on Minseok’s shirt dips onto the skin where it’s ridden up, and Minseok unconsciously shudders at the contact. Can I look at the menu please? “W-Wǒ chī sù de.” I’m a vegetarian.

    Minseok doesn’t know why he needed to learn that one.

    “Nuh-uh,” Zitao murmurs, the words hitting Minseok’s neck and making him think that maybe they should’ve stuck to separate beds.

    “Nuh-uh,” Minseok agrees, though he doesn’t know if he’s agreeing with Zitao or the thought of separate beds. Hopefully the first one. Probably both.

    “Niúròu,” Zitao says, curling his fingers into Minseok’s shirt. His pinky is touching Minseok’s bare stomach. Minseok is much too aware of this fact. “Zhè yìwèizhe ‘beef’. Repeat.”

    Minseok clears his throat, trying to concentrate. “N-Niúròu.”

    “Niúròu,” Zitao says again, and Minseok immediately mimics the words. Zitao nods, his hair brushing Minseok’s chin again. Minseok goes back to smoothing it down. “Ròu. Zhè yìwèizhe ‘pork’. Repeat.”

    “Ròu,” Minseok repeats, petting Zitao’s head almost unconsciously.

    “Ròu,” Zitao says.

    “Ròu.”

    “Good,” Zitao murmurs, patting Minseok’s stomach with a small smile. “Jī. Zhè yìwèizhe-”

    “Chicken,” Minseok states without even thinking about it. He’s heard the word enough to have it ingrained in his head. Everyone likes chicken. “‘Jī’ yìwèizhe ‘chicken’.”

    “You get good,” Zitao points out, raising his head to shoot Minseok a wide grin. His breath is hitting Minseok’s cheek, and some of it is getting into his nose, and Minseok smells ‘Niúròu’. He wonders where Zitao got beef, and why he didn’t bother to share it. The thought catches him off guard, and therefore makes him much less flustered when Zitao continues.

    “Bāozi,” Zitao says, poking Minseok in the stomach and making his flinch at the tickling sensation accompanying it. Zitao grins. “Zhè yìwèizhe-”

    “You ,” Minseok states flatly, pushing the younger boy away and flinging himself off of the bed. “You and I hate you. Go to hell, Zitao.” Minseok decides to go spend some quality time with Jongdae and Wufan, and he hears Zitao’s cute giggles all the way to the other side of the dorm.

****
    There are words that the Chinese members are fond of, words that they use simply because they think that Minseok and Jongdae don’t understand them. Except, between Minseok and Jongdae’s efforts, they’ve learned them anyways.

    ‘Báichī’ is Wufan’s personal favorite, used on Jongdae more than Minseok, though sometimes Minseok gets hit with it as well. ‘Báichī’ means idiot. They learned this one before they even left South Korea. Even the K members know ‘Báichī’.

    ‘Wǒ yǒngyǒu nǐ de xīn’ is a sentence most used by Yixing, and this one took a little longer to figure out. He never says it when there are other Chinese members around so Minseok and Jongdae can’t really be sure if they have the meaning correct, but if not they can’t be far off. The two are pretty sure that ‘Wǒ yǒngyǒu nǐ de xīn’ means ‘I own your mind’ or something similar. Minseok and Jongdae both agree that Yixing is a little creepy when left to his own devices.

    ‘Wǒ jiāng yǒngyuǎn ài nǐ’ - another sentence - is what Luhan says when he wants something but doesn’t want to do aegyo for it. According to Yixing, it means ‘I’ll love you forever’. To Minseok and Jongdae, it means an empty promise.

    ‘Kě'ài’ is something that Zitao says, though he’s never said it to anyone but Minseok. Neither Minseok nor Jongdae know the meaning of this word, but they hear it sometimes from fans and MC’s and, every once in a while, Luhan. They don’t know what ‘Kě'ài’ means, and Minseok at least is a little nervous about finding out.

****

    “Nǐ,” Zitao begins with a glare when Minseok opens the door to their room, “Shuōmíng.”

    Minseok stares at him in confusion. “Shěnme?” He asks, because he doesn’t know exactly what he needs to explain. He’s only done one stupid thing lately, and there’s no way Zitao can know about that, seeing as Zitao wasn’t even there. And considering the lack of news this morning, Minseok considers it a miracle that he and Jongdae weren’t caught on camera by the fans.

    Talk about a scandal.

    “You learn Mandarin Zuó wǎn,” Zitao states flatly as Minseok’s heart begins to sink.

    Apparently he did find out about Minseok’s one stupid thing. Oops.

    “So speak,” Zitao demands, crossing his arms over his chest expectantly. “What do you learn?”

    Minseok seriously considers just turning around and walking back out of the bedroom, partially out of embarrassment and partially because Zitao is his dongsaeng and therefore has no right to speak to him informally.

    However, Zitao’s glare is scary enough to get him talking, and so Minseok does as told.

    “Mài búmài jiǔ?” Minseok mumbles, turning his gaze to the floor and hoping that the maknae can’t see his burning cheeks. Do you serve alcohol?

    “And,” Zitao prompts, his glare intensifying even though Minseok can’t see it.

    “Qǐng zài gěi wǒ yígè.” One more please.

    Zitao huffs. Minseok unwillingly continues.

    “W-Wǒ bèibǔle m-ma?” He squeaks, his cheeks burning even brighter at the memory. Am I under arrest?

    “More?” Zitao asks, and Minseok slowly nods, biting down on his bottom lip.

    He clears his throat awkwardly. “Wǒ kěyǐ zhī fù fákuǎn ma,” he whispers, half-hoping that Zitao doesn’t hear him. It doesn’t work. Zitao clicks his tongue disgustedly. Can I just pay a fine now?

    “Báichī,” Zitao states bluntly, causing Minseok to flinch.

    “Wǒ zhīdào,” he mumbles, because he does know. It certainly wasn’t the smartest thing that he and Jongdae had ever done. At least the police officer had been kind enough to give them directions back to the dorms.

    After a minute during which Zitao stares at Minseok and Minseok stares at the carpet, the younger boy sighs and pulls him into a hug. Minseok immediately hugs him bag, wrapping his arms around Zitao’s waist and resting his forehead on Zitao’s shoulder. “Duìbùqǐ,” he murmurs into the maknae’s shirt, because he kind of is sorry. A little. Maybe.

    Though seriously, China is a hard place to live in, and Mandarin is a hard language to learn. Because of the damn tones. Minseok is a firm believer that he and Jongdae deserved a little break. They’ve been going at this for months. Actually, he’s not sorry at all.

    Zitao sighs, pulling back slightly and giving Minseok a calculating stare. Minseok stares back, partially because there’s really no where else for him to look, but mostly because Zitao is kind of beautiful.

    Finally: “Kě'ài de báichī,” Zitao says with a small smile, ducking down to give Minseok a quick kiss on the cheek before stepping away entirely. Minseok’s eyes widen, and he stares at Zitao in un-concealed shock and confusion.

    “W-What?” He asks, because what the hell just happened? Zitao’s smile widens the slightest bit, and he translates instead of just explaining. In the end, it serves the same purpose.

    “Zhè yìwèizhe ‘cute idiot.’”

    Minseok thinks he might be blushing again.

****

    “Alright!” Wufan shouts, slamming his hands down on the coffee table and giving Minseok and Jongdae a serious glare. All six members are sitting in the living room, and neither of the Korean’s are completely sure why. “It’s time,” Wufan tells them impressively, causing Minseok and Jongdae to share a look of silent confusion. “Quiz time,” he finishes lamely.

    “‘Quiz time’?” Minseok repeats curiously, glancing over at Zitao for some sort of explanation. Zitao just smirks.

    “What the hell is ‘quiz time’?” Jongdae asks, looking at Wufan like he’s gone insane. Minseok thinks this might be a distinct possibility, as Wufan’s eyes are a little crazy-looking right now.

    “It’s time for us to see if you two have actually been learning Mandarin,” Wufan tells them, his glare becoming more pronounced. “And not just screwing around through your lessons.”

    Minseok rolls his eyes. “Of course we’ve been learning Mandarin,” he says, shaking his head in undisguised disgust at the Duizhang’s idiocy. “How else would I know that yesterday you and Luhan had a serious argument about who has a better superpower?”

    “Yeah,” Jongdae agrees, nodding his head frantically. “And last night I saw Yixing drawing up a list of ways for him to rule the world. By the way,” he adds, looking over at Yixing, who seems to be spaced out. “Numbers thirty-four and fifty-seven won’t work. I googled it.”

    “Damn,” Yixing mutters under his breath, showing that he is, in fact, paying attention.

    “That’s all beside the point,” Luhan says, jumping to Wufan’s defense (and giving Yixing a worried glance when he thinks no one is looking). “Understanding Mandarin when someone else is speaking it and being able to read written Mandarin are not the same as being able to hold a decent conversation in Mandarin.”

    “So...what, we’re all just going to sit around and talk in Mandarin?” Minseok asks, looking around at the group in confusion. “Isn’t that pretty much what we do anyways?”

    “No,” Wufan states flatly, “We-” he motions to the four Chinese members, “sit around and talk in Mandarin. You-” he points to Minesok and Jongdae, “sit around and talk in Korean. So this time, you-” he points at the two of them again, “are going to sit around and talk in Mandarin while we-” he points to himself and the other three Chinese members, “are going to silently judge you.”

    This does not sound like a fun time for Minseok. Sitting around being judged never does.

    “Oh,” Jongdae says lamely, and Minseok nods. “Okay.”

    “Start!” Zitao squeals excitedly, flailing his arms in the air. “Speak!”

    Nervously, Minseok and Jongdae turn to each other. Minseok graciously motions for Jongdae to go first. Jongdae quickly shakes his head, giving Minseok a pleading look. Minseok sighs.

    “Nǐ hǎo,” Minseok begins, going the easy route. Hello. Simple but efficient.

    Jongdae glares at him. “Nǐ hǎo.”

    Minseok glares back, because that’s not really fair. “Uh...Nǐ hǎo ma?” How are you.

    “Yě bù hǎo,” Jongdae replies with a pout. Not good. “Nǐ hǎo ma?”

    Once again, Minseok goes with the easy answer. “Hěn hǎo, xièxie.” Fine, thank you. He blanks out for a minute, not sure where exactly he’s supposed to be taking the conversation, but then Zitao subtly nudges him in the side and Minseok’s brain restarts. “Wǒ xǐhuan nǐ de chènshān. Zhè shì yīgè bùcuò de lán sè.” I like your shirt. It’s a nice blue. He chances a glance at Zitao, who nods encouragingly.

    “Xièxie,” Jongdae says, giving Minseok a smile that looks more like a pained grimace. Minseok takes advantage of it.

    “Nǐ shēngbìngle ma?” He asks, feigning concern. Are you sick?

    “Dāngrán, wǒ méiyǒu shēngbìng nǐ zhège húndàn,” Jongdae snaps, except he’s said it too fast and the words blend together, making it hard for Minseok to comprehend.

    “Shěnme?” He asks, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “Wǒ tīng bù dǒng.” He looks up at the Chinese members hopefully. “Wǒ xūyào nǐde bāngzhù,” he says, and Zitao squeals again. Minseok assumes it’s because he said ‘bāngzhù’ correctly. Or at least he  hopes that’s what that means.

    Wufan shakes his head ‘no’, and Minseok sighs. Yeah, he didn’t really expect help, but it was worth a try.

    “Shěnme?” He repeats, turning back to Jongdae, and the younger man repeats the sentence slowly.

    Oh.

    Of course I’m not sick you .

    Right.

    Minseok sighs. “Nǐ shìgè báichī,” he states flatly, rolling his eyes, because he feels the need to state that Jongdae’s an idiot, just in case he wasn’t already aware. “Shì shénme rìzi?” He adds, attempting to go back into regular conversation. What day is it?

    “Xīngqīliù,” Jongdae replies immediately. Saturday. Even though it’s actually Sunday. Minseok doesn’t correct him. Neither does anyone else. Jongdae suddenly turns to Wufan. “wǒ kěyǐ dǎ ge diànhuà ma?” He asks, and Wufan’s bushy eyebrows raise slightly even as he digs his phone out of his pocket and hands it to Jongdae. “Dǎrǎo yixià,” he says to Minseok apologetically as he types in a phone number and puts it up to his ear.

    A second later, Minseok’s phone begins vibrating in his pocket and he takes it out, staring at it in confusion when he sees that it’s Wufan calling him. He flips it open and puts it to his ear.

    “Nǐ hǎo?” he greets, confused.

    “Nǐ hǎo,” Jongdae replies brightly. “Nǐ shuō hányǔ?”

    Do you speak Korean.

    “Wǒ shuō hányǔ,” Minseok says slowly, wondering where Jongdae is going with this.

    Yeah.

    “Wǒ yě yīyàng!” Jongdae exclaims into the phone receiver, grinning widely. “I’m so glad we both speak the same language,” he gushes, and Minseok finally understands. He tries not to laugh. “Now we don’t have to break into conversational Mandarin!”

    “It’s a good thing  you called me,” Minseok tells him, pursing his lips together because he’s having a really hard time with this ‘not laughing’ thing. “I couldn’t take much more of this .”

    “I know,” Jongdae agrees with a dramatic sigh. “I’ve got these four Chinese band mates who are kicking my at this language thing.”

    “I heard your roommate’s a real douche,” Minseok tells him, and Jongdae nods seriously.

    “He really is. It’s a good thing I’ve got a random fellow Korean to call now, because five minutes ago he tried to make me participate in a Mandarin quiz.”

    Minseok nods sympathetically. “If you want, my roommate can kick his for you.”

    “That would be wonderful,” Jongdae says happily. “You should ask him.”

    “I most definitely will,” Minseok promises, smirking. He can feel Wufan glaring murderously at them. It’s worth it. “Anyways, I’ve got to go, but if your roommate ever mentions ‘quiz time’ again, you’re welcome to call me.”

    “I’ll take you up on that,” Jongdae agrees. “Bai-bai!”

    Jongdae hangs up the phone and hands it back to Wufan, who is practically breathing fire out of his nose.

    Minseok follows suit, though he doesn’t give his phone to Wufan, because it’s not Wufan’s phone.

    Luhan is on the floor, clutching his stomach and laughing hysterically. “Wǒ dū yǒngyuǎn ài nǐ,” he giggles, wiping tears from his eyes. I love you both forever, Minseok mentally translates.

    Jongdae smirks, giving Wufan a challenging stare. “Boom,” he says victoriously, his smirk becoming more pronounced. “Wǒ yǒngyǒu nǐ de xīn,” he tells Wufan, crossing his arms over his chest. Yixing sends him a sharp look and Wufan raises his eyebrows. I own your mind. “Báichī.” Idiot.

    Zitao is looking at the five of them in obvious confusion. “What?” He asks, and Minseok grins, grabbing the maknae by the waist and pulling him into his lap.

    “Kě'ài,” he murmurs into Zitao’s neck, causing the younger boy to blush.

    Cute.

    Maybe being forced to come to China and learn Mandarin wasn’t a totally horrible idea. Minseok was certainly getting used to it.

A/N: Wow...I kind of at life. This is what happens when I write while on pain killers. Needs to stop. Also, I'm not sure if that even worked, or if it's just going to be a series of little boxes for people. It's obviously not a series of little boxes for me. It should work, right? I think so.