HeartEyes LLC

The notebook between you and Julien Loki was currently split into two halfes.

On the left: official syntax, grammar rules, and textbook conjugations written in Julien’s crisp, neat handwriting.

On the right: chaotic scribbles, crossed-out phrases, and a surprisingly accurate doodle of a cat wearing a beret surrounded by slang terms and curses -Julien had explicitly forbidden- by Charles who was currently hanging upside down off the side of the sofa with a half-eaten croissant in one hand.

Since you got chosen as the new manager for the French team, you had to pass an exam to test your skills in the language, even tho some of the players can speak in English very well, under the coach's orders you had to pass at least a B1 DELF exam. Luckily you have friends for that.

"Why are you teaching her standard French, Julien." Charles complained, waving his pastry. "She's going to speak like a 19th-century diplomat."

"She needs to pass a DELF exam, Charles." Julien calmly said, tapping the tip of his pen against the paper. He turned to you with a reassuring smile.

"Ignore him for a moment. Let's look at this syntax." Julien said, resting his chin on his palm as he leaned in just a little closer than necessary. "Tu es d'une élégance rare quand tu te concentres... C'est presque impossible de regarder le cahier. Can you spot the conjugated verb in the subordinate clause?"

You blinked, tracing the sentence he’d just pointed to. "Uhh... 'te concentres' is the verb, right? To concentrate?"

"Exactly! You got it right." Julien beamed, patting your head. You felt embarrassed, but smiled after getting the question right.

"Boring!" Charles groaned, sliding further down until his head nearly touched the rug. "Teach her something useful. Like how to say 'sale merde!' for example."

Before Julien could snap, a deep voice cut in from the doorway. Hugo strolled over while leaning down the back of your chair, his chest almost brushing your shoulder as he picked up your pen. His deep voice resonated right beside your ear.

"How is the student holding up?" Hugo asked.

"She's mixing up 'avoir' and 'être' in the passe composé," Julien admitted, tapping a highlighted line. "And Charles keeps trying to teach her swear words..."

Charles piped up from the couch, sitting up straight. "Well she should know know how to say 'va te faire foutre!'... or something stronger, but Julien will scold me if I teach her that."

"I certainly will." Julien said, sliding the notebook back to the center of the table.

"Laisse-la respirer, Julien." Hugo murmured, his gaze lingering on the side of your face before moving to Julien. "Regarde-la. Elle fait de son mieux, et elle est absolument magnifique quand elle râle contre la grammaire."

Julien gave a faint, elegant smile, switching his focus back to you without breaking eye contact. "C'est vrai. Son sourire quand elle comprend enfin une règle... c'est la meilleure partie de ma journée."

You stared between the two of them, your brows furrowing in pure confusion. You knew enough basic French to recognize a few words, but spoken at full speed with that quiet, intense cadence, it sounded like one of their tactical debates.

"Okay,hold on." You said, crossing your arms and throwing a flat look at Hugo, then Julien. "Are you guys literally discussing my terrible french right in front of me? I know my conjugation is still bad, but you don't have to talk trash in real-time."

Hugo suppressed a low chuckle, as he twirled the pen in his hand. "Si seulement tu savais..."

"See! I caught 'savais' that's the imparfait!" You declared, pointing an accusing finger at him. "You're definitely judging me."

"Hey, don't let them intimidate you." Charles yelled from the couch. "They're just being uptight because you were taking too long on 'être'. Julien gets weirdly intense about auxiliary verbs."

Julien didn't even look back at Charles. He kept his eyes locked on yours, his expression softening into something devastatingly gentle. "Elle ne prend pas trop de temps. Je resterais assis ici toute la nuit avec elle si elle le voulait."

"Moi aussi." Hugo added softly, his thumb subtly brushing the top of the wood near your shoulder. "Jusqu'à ce qu'elle comprenne... ou jusqu'à ce qu'elle réalise."

You looked back and forth between the two elite footballers, convinced they were pulling a massive prank on you.

"Alright, secret code time is over," you huffed, tapping Julien’s notebook. "Translate whatever insult you two just traded, or I'm failing this test on purpose out of spite."

Julien leaned back, a small, knowing smirk gracing his lips as he tapped the page. "We were simply agreeing that... your dedication is admirable. Now, back to page forty. Conjugate 'aimer' in the present tense for me."

You grabbed another pen, glaring suspiciously at both of them before looking down at the crisp blank lines under the verb aimer.

"Fine." you muttered. "At least aimer is a regular 'er' verb, so I know this one."

Julien rested his cheek in his hand, his dark eyes fixed entirely on you, tracking every movement of your hand. "Voyons voir..." he whispered, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

You tapped the paper, reciting aloud as you wrote:

"J'aime. That's 'I love' or 'I like'."

"J'aime..." Hugo repeated quietly, his deep voice carrying a slow, velvety weight that made the back of your neck warm. He leaned down slightly, resting his forearm on the table right next to your elbow. "Et qu'est-ce que tu aimes? Parce que moi, je commence à avoir une idée très claire de ce que j'aime ici."

You paused, your pen hovering over the paper. You caught 'j'aime' and 'ici', but the rest flew completely over your head. You gave Hugo a sharp look. "Hugo... Are you giving me hints or making fun of my accent?"

"Neither." Hugo replied in plain English, his face a mask of smooth, calm innocence. "Just checking your rhythm. Keep going."

You narrowed your eyes at him, then moved to the next line. "Tu aimes. You love."

Julien leaned in a fraction closer as he pointed to the two words. "Tu aimes... mais tu ne vois rien." He murmured softly in French, his gaze sliding from the paper up to your lips, then back to your eyes. "C'est adorable, mais vraiment frustrant."

"Okay, what was 'frustrant'?" You asked, pointing your pen at Julien. "Are you frustrated with my speed? I'm going as fast as I can!"

"Not at all." Julien replied in flawless English, offering you a blindingly handsome smile. "I was just saying grammar can be frustrating. You're doing wonderfully."

From the couch, Charles threw a couch pillow into the air and caught it, groaning dramatically. "Are you guys still on aimer? It's literally the easiest verb in the entire language! J'aime, tu aimes, il aime, boom! done! Can we take a break and order pizza?"

"Charles, quiet." Julien said without even looking at him. "She's concentrating."

"I was concentrating." you huffed, writing down the rest of the list in quick frustration:

j'aime tu aimes il/elle aime nous aimons vous aimez ils/elles aiment

"There!" You tapped the page triumphantly with your pen and pushed the notebook toward Julien smugly. "Conjugated. Perfectly. No mistakes!"

Julien looked down at the neatly written words, then looked back up at you. The look in his eyes was so intense, so soft, that for a split second your breath caught in your throat.

"Nous aimons..." Julien read aloud softly, his thumb lightly brushing against the edge of the notebook on the table. "Oui. Ça, c'est très vrai."

Hugo let out a low, amused huff from beside you, leaning his hip against the table and crossing his arms. "Sauf qu'elle pense toujours qu'on se moque d'elle. On va devoir être plus direct après son examen."

You threw your hands up in the air, completely exasperated. "Okay, that's it! What are you two saying?! Is 'nous aimons' wrong? Did I mess up the plural ending?!"

"Your French is flawless." Hugo said, twirling the pen in his hand and tucking it behind your ear with an impossibly gentle touch. "Every single word."

The morning of the exam arrived faster than you wanted. Outside the exam room, you stood in the hallway clutching your study sheets, nervously pacing in a circle, and rereading through every note Loki had wrote for you. Suddenly, your phone buzzed. Two new messages appeared on your screen.

Julien: Bonne chance pour ton examen. N'oublie pas : tu es capable de tout. Et après ça, j'aimerais t'inviter à dîner. En français ou en anglais, c'est toi qui choisis.

Hugo: Pense à l'intention et au tempo. Tu vas réussir. Et garde ta soirée de libre, je te ramène chez toi après, juste nous trois.

You didn't understand much of the messages, and before you could even process them, (or copy them to google treanslate), a third message popped up. This time in English.

Charles: Hey, good luck! Julien and Hugo said they were going to give you space this morning, but they've been pacing around the training facility like caged lions since 7 AM!

You: Merci!

You squeezed your eyes shut, taking a deep breath to calm your racing heart. You tucked your phone into your bag, and stepped into the exam room with a small, smile.

At least you knew aimer wouldn't be a problem anymore.