The rain was pouring relentlessly outside of Suho's window. He watched the droplets hit the glass and run down in rivulets, creating a hypnotic effect. He felt like the weather was matching his mood: stormy and unsettled.

He looked at his lazy dog, Kibo who was sprawled out on his gray sofa, unbothered by the rain.

Suho's mind drifted back to his encounter with Joon earlier. The animosity between the two brothers was growing stronger by the day, and Suho didn't know how much longer he could take it.

He couldn't help but think about the unfairness of it all. Suho was the one who had stayed by their father's side while Joon was off doing god knows what. He was the one who was caring for their father, not Joon. He knew that Joon had three kids, another on the way because like Nick Cannon, he wasn't using a rubber, and was always looking for a way out of helping his poor wife Ha-yoon.

It wasn't fair.

"Kibo," he called.

The dog, his eyes still closed, opened them.

"What should I do, boy?" he asked, his voice filled with frustration.

Kibo yawned, as if he was saying, "I don't care, you figure it out." Out of nowhere Kibo went balistic and started barking at the front door, his fur standing up.

"Kibo, what's wrong, boy?" Suho asked, concern evident in his voice. He went over to the door, and peeked through the peephole. He was instantly caught off guard by the unexpected arrival of Zuri at his doorstep, tears streaming down her face. She looked utterly drenched and miserable. He opened the door perhaps a little too ubruptly.

"He's gone," she sobbed, her voice heavy with grief. She shivered from the cold, vulnerable and in desperate need of comfort.

Suho didn't hesitate. He pulled her into a warm, reassuring embrace, his arms wrapped around her as he whispered soothing words. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, offering solace in that simple gesture.

"Come inside," he urged when she finally calmed down a bit. He led her into his cozy apartment, the soft light casting warm hues across the room. Suho rummaged through his closet and pulled out an oversized sweatshirt for her to change into.

While Zuri changed and showered, Suho set to work in the kitchen, brewing a comforting pot of miso soup. Cooking was a talent he had always been somewhat embarrassed about, but right now, it felt like the right thing to do. He hoped that the familiar taste and aroma would help ease Zuri's grief.

He cut up the scallions and his left over tofu and through them in the pot. Then, he added the miso paste and gave the soup a gentle stir. Kibo looked up at him suddenly not lazy but eager, waiting to be fed.

"You know, Kibo, you could be a little more sympathetic to our guest," he told his dog. Damn was he really this lonely that he resorted into talking to his dog that he got 3 days ago?

Suho's thoughts drifted to Zuri. He didn't know what was going on, but she looked distressed. He was worried about her, and he wanted to do whatever he could to make her feel better. He wondered why he felt a connection so strong, for something that had been so instantaneous. And it wasn't just because of the sex, sure it was great but there was something more that drew him to her.

The steam rose from the pot, the comforting aroma of the miso soup wafting through the air. Suho ladled the soup into two bowls, just as Zuri emerged from the bathroom, her hair hung in a wild cascade of curls around her face, framed by his oversized sweatshirt. She looked ethereal, like a goddess who had momentarily descended to Earth.

Suho smiled warmly at her, holding out a steaming bowl of miso soup. "Here, this should warm you up," he said gently, his eyes filled with concern and care.

Suho couldn't explain the overwhelming desire he felt to do anything and everything to comfort Zuri. They had only known each other for a week, and yet, he found himself drawn to her in a way he couldn't comprehend. It wasn't just because she was wearing his favorite sweatshirt, but something deeper that defied logic.

"Damn," Her ebony skin radiant against the pale gray material. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.

She looked at him with concern etched onto her face. "What?"

"Uhh.. nothing. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare." He waved hand awkwardly wishing he knew how to shut his mouth.

"It's okay," she said softly.

He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. "So, uhh, how are you feeling?" he asked, gesturing for her to sit at the dining table.

Zuri sighed. "I'm okay, I guess. Just a little shaken up."

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked gently.

Zuri took a deep breath and recounted the events of the funeral. Her voice trembled as she relived the painful memory, tears threatening to spill from her eyes once again. Suho listened intently, his heart breaking for her.

"It's just not fair," she choked out. "Jamal didn't deserve to die. He was such a good person, and I can't help but feel like it's all my fault. If I had never gone to that party..."

"Zuri, it's not your fault. You can't blame yourself for something that was beyond your control," Suho said, as he took her hand and held it tightly. "And Jamal wouldn't want you to feel this way. He'd want you to live your life and be happy. That's all he would ever want for you."

Zuri nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "I know," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Suho."

"Anytime," he replied, his eyes filled with tenderness.

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation hanging in the air. Finally, Suho spoke up, his voice filled with sincerity.

"Zuri, I don't know what the future holds for us, but I want you to know that I'm here for you. Whatever you need, I'm here."

Zuri met his gaze, her eyes filled with gratitude. "Suho, thank you," she said.

He watched her, his heart swelled with emotions he struggled to articulate. Her hair, those tight, luscious curls that framed her face like an intricate work of art, captivated him. He couldn't tear his gaze away, entranced by her natural beauty.

Zuri met his gaze with a mix of embarrassment and gratitude, her lips curling into a tender smile. Her topaz-colored eyes held a solemn depth, even as they danced with a glimmer of something more.

"You know," she began, her voice soft but filled with sincerity, "I didn't expect you to see me like this. And I barely know you at all. But at the same time, I feel safe in your presence."

"I feel the same way," Suho admitted, his voice low and steady. "And for what it's worth, you're welcome here anytime."

Suho was taken aback by her words, struck by their profound honesty. He felt a connection with her that went beyond the surface, as if they had known each other for much longer. There was an unspoken understanding between them, a shared vulnerability that bound them in that moment.

She reached out and touched his cheek, a gesture so simple and yet so meaningful.

With a gentle smile, Suho reached out and brushed a stray curl from her face. "I'm glad you feel safe with me, Zuri," he murmured, his voice filled with warmth. "You're not alone in this, okay? I'm here for you."

As Zuri gazed into Suho's eyes, it lowkey reminded her of a sea, a deep, brown sea that seemed vast and inviting. It was a gaze she felt she could get lost in, and it stirred emotions she couldn't quite put into words.

Why did he care about her so much? He had gone as far as making her Miso, for crying out loud. Zuri questioned herself as she felt the tears welling up inside. She let them flow, but the why of it all eluded her. Was it because of her turbulent hormones, the overwhelming sense of brokenness, her difficulty in processing emotions, or perhaps the fact that she had kept everyone at arm's length for so long? And now, he was the first person in a very long time, an indescribable time, that she had allowed to get close to her. But, in the end, he was just her fake boyfriend.

Suho gently cupped her chin and wiped away a tear with his thumb. His eyes held an earnest, safe, and perhaps profound look. "Hey," he whispered softly, "I'm here."

They continued to stare at each other, locked in a moment that felt both timeless and significant. In that silent exchange, words were unnecessary, and to Zuri, it meant everything.

"I didn't know you had a dog," she said, breaking the silence, and gestured towards Kibo.

"Oh yeah, this is Kibo. I got him three days ago."

"Hi Kibo, how are you? Oh, you're a good boy aren't you," she said as she reached out and pet him.

Kibo wagged his tail excitedly and panted happily as she petted him.

"Well, that's one way to change the subject," Suho said.

"What? I like dogs," she replied, shrugging her shoulders.

"Yeah, I can see that," Suho laughed. He wanted to wrap his arms around her. To feel her to touch her, to kiss her, to smell her, to be inside her.

But he resisted, knowing that it was not the time.

"So, I told you my troubles, it's only fair if you tell me yours," Zuri said, her tone teasing as she played with Kibo's ears.

"My troubles? Hmm, well, I'm a Taurus, born under the sign of Venus, which is why I'm so charming," Suho said, his expression playful.

"No, I'm serious, come on, tell me," she laughed.

Suho sighed. "Well, if you must know, my older brother is a total douche, the guy is so fucking annoying sometimes. And then my mom thinks that the key to happiness is marrying me off to some girl she chooses, but I think she just wants the money," His breath hitched for the slightest second. Telling her about his mother's ultimatum would probably only complicate matters, so he decided to keep his mouth shut. "And my Dad's almost about to die. So, yeah, my life is basically a shit show right now," Suho concluded.

"Sounds rough," Zuri said sympathetically. "Is that why you came up with this fake boyfriend thing? To get your mom off your back?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Suho replied. "And it's not like I have a lot of options right now, you know? So, I figured, why not go for it." Zuri's phone beeped, and his eyes flickered to her phone. The screensaver was a picture of a painted lake.

"I see you're into art. Who drew that?" Suho asked, pointing to her phone.

"What?"

"The drawing, who made it?"

"Oh, that. Um, I did." She scratched her head clearly uncomfortable.

"Wow, really?"

"Yeah," Zuri replied, a hint of embarrassment in her voice. "I don't know, it's just a hobby, really. I like to draw."

"Well, it's pretty impressive," Suho complimented. "You should be proud."

"Thanks," she mumbled, blushing slightly. "Tell that to my parents." She mumbled something about being black. "Anyways its something I don't really want to talk about."

They sat in silence for a fat second.

"Damn, it's already late. I should probably get going," Zuri said, a hint of reluctance in her voice.

"It's not too late, do you want me to drive you back?" He looked at the floor. "Or you could stay, again. If you want."

She thought about it. It would be easier, safer, if she went home. But Suho made her feel comfortable, and it was a feeling she wanted to hold onto.

"Okay," she agreed, a smile forming on her lips. "I'll stay."

Suho grinned and pulled her in for a hug. She still smelled like cocoa butter and rain, a combination he could never get tired of.

"I'm glad you're here, Zuri," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Zuri pulled back and gazed into his eyes. Her expression was unreadable, and Suho found himself holding his breath in anticipation.

"Me too," she said softly.

He moved closer to her on the couch, their thighs touching. Suho felt an undeniable attraction towards her. He couldn't deny the electricity in the air, and his body was on fire.

He leaned in and kissed her softly, a gentle exploration of her lips. He felt her tremble slightly under his touch, and he couldn't help but wonder what else would make her shiver.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue seeking entrance to her mouth. She responded eagerly, her own tongue darting out to meet his. He could feel a stir in his groin, and he knew that he wanted her.

He looked at her. He reached out and touch the inner part of her thigh. "Want to play a game."

"What kind of game?" She asked.

"A fun game," Suho replied, his voice low and seductive. "It's called 'take off all your clothes and fuck me in the kitchen'."

Zuri couldn't help but laugh. She was definitely not used to this kind of directness.

"Really? Right now? But what about dinner? You didn't eat."

"I'm hungry for something else right now," Suho replied.

He saw a blush creep across her cheeks.

Suho stood up and grabbed her hand, leading her to the kitchen.

"Okay, fine, but only if you take off your clothes, too," Zuri conceded.

Suho grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Deal," he agreed.