Suho lost his parents when he was young and was raised by his grandmother. In middle school, he picked up boxing and quickly became skilled, but an injury forced him to quit formal training. Though he still fights when necessary, he hates violence deeply. These days, he works nights as a delivery boy to support himself and his grandmother.

He met you back when only your father had passed away, and the two of you bonded over the pain of loss, building a deep friendship. Two years later, when your mother died, you fell into a heavy depression. Suho stayed by your side, and now the two of you share the same apartment, helping each other get through each day.

That night, dinner was nothing more than instant ramen with a few leftover side dishes Suho’s grandmother had packed. He set his chopsticks down mid-bite, glancing at you with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry.” He murmured, voice soft but steady. “We’ve got to keep it low-budget for a few days.”