Suho walked into his family home, still riding the high of his unexpected yet delightful evening with Zuri. His smile was wide, his mood visibly uplifted. Joon, lounging in the living room with their ailing father, Hyun-Woo, who was resting in an armchair, gave Suho a look that could sour milk. The Great Gatsby played on the TV, but Joon's attention was now on his younger brother.

 "Look who's back, the Casanova of make-believe relationships," Joon sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Just because I'm happy doesn't mean you have to be Ronny Raincloud," Suho retorted, unwilling to let Joon dampen his spirits.

"Oh yeah? Well, at least I wasn't dumped after every date I went on before I got married," Joon shot back, a smirk spreading across his face.

Suho's smile faltered, but he quickly recovered. "At least when I have kids someday, they're not going to be radical Nazis with no soul," he replied, his voice tinged with irritation.

The bickering brothers were abruptly silenced by the sharp sound of their mother's voice. "BOYS!" Mrs. Kim yelled, frustration evident in her tone. She marched over and delivered a swift slap to the back of each of their heads.

"Ow!" they both exclaimed in unison, rubbing the sore spots.

"Your father is sick, and this is how you treat him? By being two moron buffoons arguing like toddlers," Mrs. Kim scolded, her arms folded across her chest. To Suho, she always seemed like a cartoon character when angry, and he could almost see the steam coming out of her ears.

"Joon!" she said, pointing at him. "You're so caught up in yourself, sweetheart, even your shadow leaves the room when you start talking about how great you are." She then turned to Suho, who instinctively flinched. "And you need to get a life outside of your hermit crab job. Maybe find a girl who's real for a change. You're not getting any younger, and your father and I want to see grandchildren. Maybe get a dog so you're not lonely as hell."

Suho felt the sting of her words, a harsh reminder of the expectations weighing down on him. He glanced at his father, who watched the exchange with a tired but concerned look.

"I'm working on it, 엄마," Suho said, his voice a mix of frustration and resignation. He started to excuse himself to the restroom but then turned to face his family. The night with Zuri had given him a glimpse of something different, something real, and he was determined to hold onto that feeling.

"And fine. I'll get a dog," he announced, surprising even himself with the decision. Perhaps a pet would be a good companion, a small step toward a life that felt genuinely his own.

As he walked away, Suho's mind was a whirlwind of emotions – the joy of his time with Zuri, the frustration with his family, and the new resolve to carve out his own path, even if it meant defying expectations. The journey ahead was uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, Suho felt a flicker of hope that things could change for the better

The pet shop was a lively cacophony of barks, chirps, and the occasional squeak of a hamster wheel. Suho, flanked by Brett and Briley, navigated through the aisles lined with pet supplies and cages. The early morning trip had been Suho's idea, a hasty decision to fulfill his mother's directive to get a dog.

"Why are we here again, this early in the morning?" Brett complained, stifling a yawn. "I could be getting my Grande, bone dry, five-shot ristretto, with extra-whip, two raw sugars."

Briley scoffed. "What respectable man drinks a latte?" he said, his tone dripping with mock disdain. "I like my coffee black. Pitch black."

"Guys, we're here to get me a dog, and we have to hurry before my mom calls me telling me I chickened out," Suho said, his words tinged with a mix of annoyance and urgency. "Because apparently, it's illegal to be an introvert."

"Oh right," Briley said, momentarily distracted by a French Bulldog in a nearby pen. "What you need is a manly dog, something like a Bullmastiff. They're manly, they're fierce, and it will hide the fact that you suffer from emotional damage."

Suho rolled his eyes at Briley's remark, already moving on to the next enclosure. "I'm looking for a companion, not a statement," he muttered under his breath.

Brett, peering into a pen housing several small dogs, suggested, "How about a Yorkshire Terrier? They're very peaceful."

Briley laughed. "A Yorkie? What's next, a Chihuahua? Suho needs a dog, not a fashion accessory. What's next, are you going to knit it a sweater and take it to yoga classes?"

Just then, a Doberman barked loudly at Brett, causing him to jump and shudder. He quickly adjusted his glasses, a nervous habit that Suho had come to recognize.

Wandering through the aisles, Suho's attention was caught by a Shiba Inu, its intelligent eyes and neat, fox-like appearance striking a chord with him. "I think I'm going to get this one," he declared, pointing to the Shiba Inu.

"No, not that one," Briley moaned, his face contorted in disappointment. "That's like choosing a cat over a lion."

Suho, however, felt a connection with the Shiba Inu. He could see past Briley's macho posturing, recognizing that a pet's companionship was about more than just appearances or stereotypes. It was about finding a connection, a bond that spoke to him on a personal level.

 Suho kneeled down to get a closer look at the Shiba Inu. The dog tilted its head, assessing Suho with a curious gaze.

"This one's perfect," Suho said, a smile spreading across his face. He felt a connection with the dog, a sense of companionship that went beyond appearances or stereotypes.

"I like this one," Suho stated firmly, a sense of certainty in his choice. "He's got character, and that's what I'm looking for."

Brett nodded in agreement. "It's a great choice, Suho. Looks like a smart dog."

Briley, still grumbling about 'manly dogs', eventually gave in. "Alright, fine. But you're taking care of it. I'm not babysitting your fur baby."

As they completed the adoption process, Suho felt a weight lift off his shoulders. The decision to get a dog, initially a response to his mother's demands, now felt like a step towards something positive – a new companion, a new responsibility, and perhaps a new chapter in his deadpan life with the Shiba Inu, whom he decided to name "Yeou" - meaning 'fox' in Korean - was a step toward something new, a symbol of the changes he was making in his life.

Leaving the pet shop with his new Shiba Inu, Suho felt a sense of accomplishment. The dog wagged its tail, seemingly happy with its new owner. This was more than just getting a pet; it was about opening up to new experiences and embracing life's unexpected turns.