writing-over-here:

yeesh, i’m sorry. never meant to set this up as a Zen-worshipping blog, but here we are… i need to get all of these lovey-dovey feelings for him out of my head T_T so here’s some more Zen… and his hair

---

Before the two of you had started living together, you’d never really had the chance to appreciate Zen’s hair. You knew it was long, sure, and you had kind of guessed – since the hair was attached to his head – that it was well-cared for. Even when you first saw him, in person, you hadn’t realised just how ridiculously gorgeous his hair was. Also, how ridiculously long it was. He wasn’t a short guy, and his silvery strands fell all the way to his waist, even brushing what you now knew was an equally gorgeous backside.

Zen never really spoke about his hair much – he was always more focused on his body and his face. But honestly, the fact that his shower – and bathroom cabinets – could be mistaken for a women’s spoke for him. They were lined with products that you were fairly sure he imported, products that you knew cost more than you earned in a week; he could have opened a shop with the stock of clips, hair ties, and brushes he kept in the baskets below his sink. He never really spoke about his hair, but oh boy, did he take care of it. Which would explain why it was so silky smooth. And soft. And so, so much fun to play with.

“Hey, ____?”

“Mmm…?”

“What are you doing?”

It was rarely that Zen actually had his hair down – even when the two of you were relaxing, at home, he kept it swept up in his usual style. Only when the two of you were in bed, bearing all to one another, did he let his hair free. It was one of your favourite times of the day – no matter the activities that took place in your bedroom, his hair was always immaculate, and the perfect comfort for you, especially at the end of a long day.

“Playing with your hair.”

“Yeah-huh, I can feel that.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he leaned back into your touch. “You’re the only one who ever gets to see my hair like this, you know?” You hummed in affirmation, moving your attention back up to his scalp. “Oh… That feels good…” Glancing over his shoulder, you saw Zen with his eyes closed, smiling as you massaged him. A while passed as you continued the movements, methodically pressing and rubbing.

“Why is that?”

“Huh?” You were sure he would have fallen asleep, had you not spoken.

“Why do you never wear your hair down? It’s lovely…” He groaned as your thumbs moved to press into his neck – he was always bent over a script, or his phone, or working out – the knots in his body were unbelievable, and you had no complaints about being the one to work them out.

“Honestly?” He sat up, allowing you greater access to his back. “It’s just too long. I like it this length – it makes me look even more unique,” you smiled to yourself – no one else could say that about themselves so casually. “but it would get in the way if I wore it down every day. Besides,” he glanced over his shoulder at you. “if I wore it down around others, then it wouldn’t be so special for you. I prefer it this way, and I think you do, too.”

“Makes sense, I guess-”

“Oh, and it’s super sensitive.”

“… What?”

“Yeah.” He turned around fully, now. “Like, if it gets caught on anything, or pulled. It’s… Not something I want happening in public.” A slight flush spread across his pale skin, and he laughed sheepishly at your confused gaze. “It’s kind of hard to explain, to be honest. I like you playing with it, because… You’re you… But I don’t want anyone else touching it. Y’know?”

“When you say sensitive-”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

You couldn’t stop your mischievous grin. “So…” Zen was looking visibly panicked now – he seemed to have just realised exactly what he had revealed to you. “If I were to… Pull on it…”

“Ah… That’s for you to find out another time, my love.”

“Aw, come on.”

“We’ve already done it once tonight!” He was now visibly flustered, slowly shuffling away from you on the bed. You relented, holding up your hands.

“Alright, but no promises.” You loved this – finding out new things about the person you had fallen in love with. Every small thing you learned made you love him all the more, made you want to find out more, and, above all, made you grateful that you had even met this strange, lovely person.

“… But I wouldn’t mind you continuing that massage…”

Chuckling at his admission, you gestured for him to turn back around. That same waterfall of silver hair returned to your gaze – you were grateful that Zen only ever wore his hair down around you, really. He was almost ethereal, bathed in the moonlight streaming through the still-open balcony doors, all pale skin, crimson eyes, and white hair. Knowing this was a sight only you would ever get to see, you realised that Zen was quite right: You definitely preferred things this way.