lorence ray and his older - adoptive - brother fynn lived in the hotel room across from the one of you and your friends

one of your friends had chosen this really fancy hotel - was there really any hotel in dubai that wasn't fancy? - for her bachelorette trip, while lorence and fynn were only here for their father's sake

he had died, to make it simple

the funeral would originally have been in modesto, california, where their dad grew up, but shipping a dead body - especially one that was already decomposing - out of dubai and back to the united states would've been more of a hassle than this

but you didn't know that he wasn't here for shit's and giggles - although he wasn't here to mourn, either, his dad had been an ass -, and neither did your friends as they decided to play spin the bottle

whoever it landed on had to knock on the door across the hall and run back to the room, and for the plot's sake, that person was you

but champagne and pranks never really made a good combination, and so you found yourself in front of your hotel door, which your friends had shut before you could come back in

lorence had just gotten out of the shower, his black hair ruffled by the towel he'd attempted to dry it with, small water droplets falling down onto his shirt

fynn was out, in an attempt to buy clothes that weren't all baggy and colorful for the funeral, since he didn't own a single formal piece of clothing

and to buy some more stuff for his new apartment, since he'd be moving, into a fucking shared apartment, as if the heritage from his dad couldn't have bought him a whole estate in monaco if he wanted

opening the door and leaning against the doorframe, running a hand through his damp hair and looking at you, his dark brows slightly raised

"yeah?"