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The plastic table sticks to Gi-hun's forearms in the afternoon heat. He sits outside the convenience store with a can of coffee, actually looking human today, wearing a clean shirt, hair that's been brushed instead of whatever disaster usually happens in the morning.
The automatic doors slide open and Jung-bae walks out carrying his usual iced coffee and a bag of honey butter chips. He stops when he spots Gi-hun.
"Holy shit, you're alive." Jung-bae drops into the plastic chair across from him. "Haven't seen you in weeks. I was starting to think you'd been kidnapped or something." He tears open the chip bag. "Want some?"
"Thanks." Gi-hun takes a handful and crunches through them. "Just needed to get out of the apartment for a while."
"Yeah? Everything okay at home?" Jung-bae studies his face. "You look tired. Like, really tired."
"I am tired." Gi-hun rubs his eyes. "Sang-woo's been in rut."
Jung-bae nearly chokes on his coffee. "Jesus, how long has it been going on?"
"Three weeks."
"Three weeks? Fuck, dude. That's rough."
Three weeks ago, Gi-hun woke up on a Thursday morning and went through his usual routine. Brushed his teeth while checking his phone, started the coffee maker, stared into the fridge trying to remember what normal people eat for breakfast.
When he walked into the kitchen properly, Sang-woo was already there. He was standing by the counter wearing the same t-shirt from yesterday, and his hair looked like he'd stuck his finger in an electrical outlet. There was a thin layer of sweat across his forehead even though it wasn't particularly warm in the apartment.
"Morning," Gi-hun said, reaching around him for a clean mug from the cabinet.
Sang-woo made a sound in response. It wasn't really a word, more like a grunt that might have been trying to be "morning" but gave up halfway through.
Gi-hun glanced at him while he poured coffee. Sang-woo stared at the coffee maker like it held the secrets of the universe, his jaw clenched tight. He kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other like he couldn't figure out how to stand comfortably.
"Are you feeling alright?" Gi-hun asked, as he took a sip of his coffee and watched Sang-woo over the rim.
Another grunt. Sang-woo's hand started to move toward Gi-hun, then jerked back to his side like he caught himself doing something he shouldn't.
Gi-hun kept watching him. The weird restless energy, the sweating, the way Sang-woo kept opening his mouth like he wanted to say something and then closing it again. The way he can't seem to focus on anything except--
Gi-hun's eyes drifted to the calendar stuck to the refrigerator with a magnet. Thursday the 12th had a big red circle drawn around it in Sang-woo's handwriting.
"Oh," Gi-hun said. "Oh, shit."
Sang-woo's head snapped up at the sound of his voice, and suddenly he's looking at Gi-hun with this intense, focused attention that made something twist in Gi-hun's stomach. Then Sang-woo made this low sound, almost like a whine, and took a step closer.
"Sang-woo?"
But Sang-woo already moved, closing the distance between them and placed his hands on Gi-hun's waist. His grip was careful but desperate, like he's been wanting to touch for hours and finally gave himself permission.
"Need," he said, and his voice came out rough and strained like the word had to fight its way up from somewhere deep in his chest.
Gi-hun looked at Sang-woo's flushed face, at the way his pupils dilated, at how his hands shook just slightly where they're holding onto him.
“Need” Sang-woo growled before pulling Gi-hun closer and devouring him.
Jung-bae shakes his head. "I've heard ruts that last that long are really intense." He trails off, studying Gi-hun's face. "How were you able to keep sane?"
Gi-hun lets out a long breath. "Oh, don't even get me started."
By the second day, Sang-woo became Gi-hun's shadow.
It started innocently enough. Gi-hun got up the next morning to make breakfast, and suddenly there were arms wrapping around his waist from behind, Sang-woo's chest pressing warm against his back.
"I'm just trying to make coffee," Gi-hun said, attempting to reach for the coffee grounds while Sang-woo clings to him.
"Mmph," Sang-woo responded, his face buried in the crook of Gi-hun's neck.
"Sang-woo, you're going to make me spill coffee grounds everywhere."
The whining started then. It's this soft, continuous sound that's exactly like a dog that's been left alone all day and is now convinced its owner might leave again at any moment. When Gi-hun tried to step sideways to reach the coffeepot, Sang-woo just shuffled along with him, maintaining perfect contact.
"Sang-woo, I literally cannot make coffee with you attached to me like this."
"Don't care," Sang-woo mumbled into his shoulder, words muffled but audible. "Need you."
"I'm right here."
"Need more."
And that became the theme for the next several days. Gi-hun couldn't wash dishes without Sang-woo plastered to his back, making soft huffing noises every time Gi-hun had to lean too far to reach something. He couldn't fold laundry without Sang-woo sitting on the bed behind him, letting out these low, mournful sounds whenever Gi-hun had to walk to the dresser to put something away.
The breaking point came when Gi-hun tried to take a shower by himself.
He'd been in the bathroom for maybe thirty seconds, just long enough to get the water temperature right and step under the spray, when he heard it. Scratching at the bathroom door. Actual scratching, like claws dragging against wood.
"Sang-woo?" he called out, water running down his face.
The response was a long, mournful whine.
“Want! See you!”
"I'm literally just washing my hair. I'll be out in five minutes."
The whining got louder, more urgent. Then there's a dull thump against the door, like Sang-woo had just let his full body weight fall against it.
"Are you seriously having some kind of breakdown because I'm taking a shower?"
"See you," Sang-woo's voice came through the door, muffled but desperate. "Please."
"Five minutes," Gi-hun repeats, squirting shampoo into his palm.
"Now."
The whining resumes, accompanied by what sounded suspiciously like Sang-woo trying to turn the door handle.
Gi-hun sighed, rinsed the shampoo out of his hair faster than he's ever rinsed anything in his life, and opened the bathroom door with a towel wrapped around his waist.
Sang-woo was sitting on the floor right outside the door, his back pressed against it like he had been standing guard. The moment he saw Gi-hun, his entire face lit up like Gi-hun just came back from a month-long trip instead of a three-minute shower.
"Feel better now?" Gi-hun asked
Sang-woo nodded eagerly and immediately reached for him, pulling him down onto the hallway floor for what can only be described as a reunion hug.
"Was he really that clingy?" Jung-bae asks.
"You know how he is regularly?"
Jung-bae nods. "Yeah"
Gi-hun smirks in amusment. "Dial that up to a hundred. "
It started getting crazier on night five.
Gi-hun woke up at three in the morning with a bladder that wasn’t taking no for an answer and carefully started the delicate process of extricating himself from Sang-woo’s grip. Sang-woo slept like someone actively trying to prevent Gi-hun from being kidnapped by ninjas,arms and legs everywhere, face buried in Gi-hun’s neck, one hand fisted in the fabric of his sleep shirt like an anchor.
It took Gi-hun a full five minutes of careful maneuvering, but he finally slipped out of bed without waking his ridiculously light-sleeping boyfriend.
The bathroom trip went smoothly and quietly. He even impressed himself as he washed his hands, thinking maybe he had finally figured out how to navigate this whole ridiculous situation.
Then he opened the bathroom door,and screamed.
Sang-woo was standing in the dark hallway, right in front of the bathroom like some tragic, half-dressed ghost. Hair sticking up in every direction, expression like he’d just watched his whole world collapse into dust.
"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!" Gi-hun jumped back so hard he slammed into the doorframe. "Don’t do that! You scared the shit out of me!"
Sang-woo made a small, trembling sound. "Left… you… leave me…"
"Sang-woo… I just went to take a piss," Gi-hun said with a sigh. "I was gonna come back right after."
But Sang-woo wasn’t listening. He shuffled closer, sniffing quietly, like he needed proof that Gi-hun was still there.
"You… gone… me… alone…" His hands hovered near Gi-hun, uncertain where to reach, afraid of touching too hard.
"I was gone for two minutes!"
"I… thought… maybe… not… come back…" Sang-woo swallowed hard, eyes wide, voice breaking like he might start crying.
Gi-hun looked at his boyfriend’s completely devastated face and felt his exasperation melt into something dangerously fond.
"Sang-woo," he said gently. "Where exactly did you think I was going to go? It’s three in the morning. I’m wearing nothing but underwear. And this is my apartment too."
"I… don’t know… brain… stop… think… you… gone…" Sang-woo admitted, shoulders slumping, like all the air had been sucked out of him.
"Next time I need to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, do you want me to wake you up first and file some kind of formal request?"
Sang-woo nodded so hard his head nearly bobbed off. "Yes… please… stay… don’t leave…"
"Okay," Gi-hun said, grinning. "We can work with that."
They made their way back to bed, and Sang-woo immediately wrapped around him like the world’s most possessive, fragile octopus. Gi-hun lay there in the dark, realizing this was probably going to happen every single time he needed the bathroom for however many more nights this rut lasted.
He was absolutely right
By day ten, Gi-hun realized he couldn’t go out of the house. So if they needed groceries, delivery was the only option.
Sang-woo lay with his head on Gi-hun’s lap, half-asleep, breathing steady. The doorbell rang. His eyes snapped open, and in an instant, his sleepy contentment vanished, replaced by full alert.
"It’s just the groceries I ordered," Gi-hun said quickly, hoping to calm him.
Sang-woo growled low, pushing himself upright but still leaning against Gi-hun, moving toward the door before Gi-hun could even react.
By the door, he planted himself between Gi-hun and the entrance, huffing softly, eyes wide, every sense on edge. Logic had no place here; only instinct.
"It's okay," Gi-hun said. "It's just the delivery guy."
"No… wrong… smell…" Sang-woo grabbed Gi-hun’s hand as if to pull him back. "Different… me… no trust…"
"Through the door?"
"Different… smell… bad… him…" His grip tightened, still partially resting against Gi-hun.
The man calls from outside,"Sir? Is everything okay?"
Sang-woo’s huffing grew louder, more insistent, protective. Gi-hun realized they were seconds from neighbors calling the cops.
"Okay," Gi-hun said quickly, fishing his wallet out. "I’ll open the door just enough for the bags. You… stay here. Can you do that?"
Sang-woo tilted his head, still leaning against Gi-hun, processing, then nodded. His stance firm, shoulders squared, ready.
Gi-hun opened the door just wide enough to take the bags while Sang-woo loomed behind him, huffs marking him as territory claimed.
"Thanks," Gi-hun said to the delivery guy, trying to sound normal. "Sorry… he’s… not feeling well."
The delivery guy glanced past him nervously. "Do you need to call someone?"
"He’s fine," Gi-hun said, handing over the money.
Sang-woo froze, staring at the cash like it was foreign. His hand drifted toward his pocket, then stopped.
"The money," Gi-hun prompted.
"No… you… I… hold…" Sang-woo said, voice low and rough, still half-panicked, head still resting lightly on Gi-hun’s lap.
"Don’t worry, I’ve got it," Gi-hun said.
The moment the door clicked shut, Sang-woo curled closer against him, arms wrapping tight around Gi-hun, face pressed to his neck, breathing deep, reclaiming him.
"Better?" Gi-hun asked, reaching down to pat the arms.
"He… wrong… smell… others…" Sang-woo mumbled, voice soft now. "Other… omegas…"
"That's because he had to deliver to other houses, Sang-woo." Gi-hun said.
Sang-woo ignored him, pressing his cheek to Gi-hun’s lap and neck, erasing the outside world. It took twenty minutes before he finally relaxed, satisfied that Gi-hun smelled only like himself again.
"At least it didn’t get worse, right?" Jung-bae asks, though something in his expression suggests he's not entirely confident about this assumption.
Gi-hun gives him a pointed look.
By day twelve of the rut, Gi-hun decided he needed to do something productive other than lie around with Sang-woo all day. While Sang-woo slept, he went through some old storage boxes in the bedroom closet, sorting things into keep, donate, and throw away.
That’s when he found the small white rabbit tucked between some old textbooks. Soft fur, floppy ears,he smiled, cradling it in his lap. "You won this for me at that carnival last year," he murmured, running a hand over its head while flipping through a stack of old photographs.
He didn’t notice Sang-woo stirring until a soft huff made him look up.
Sang-woo’s eyes were wide, his voice low and broken. "Not… love him. Love me."
Before Gi-hun could react, Sang-woo lunged for the rabbit, snatching it from his hands. He pressed it to his chest, glaring at it, and muttered, "Gi-hun… mine."
Then he tore into it. Stuffing spilled onto the floor, ears shredded. "Mine… mine… Gi-hun… mine…" His hands didn’t stop, and the small toy crumpled in his grip.
Gi-hun stayed still, letting him get it out of his system. "It’s okay… just me. Only me here," he said softly, keeping his voice calm.
After a few minutes, Sang-woo’s huffs slowed. He pressed himself against Gi-hun, shaking slightly, still clutching the torn toy, until he finally relaxed enough to rest, just leaning there.
"Okay, but the longest rut doesn't last longer than three weeks so.. it's got to be winding down soon?"
"Yeah, we actually managed to go outside yesterday,"
The park visit had been Gi-hun's idea, born out of sheer desperation for fresh air and sunlight and a change of activity that didn't involve getting pounded by his rut-brained lover.
"Just for an hour," he'd suggested that morning, watching Sang-woo pace around their apartment like a caged animal. "Some fresh air might help clear your head."
The first ten minutes had actually been peaceful. They'd found a bench under a large tree, and Sang-woo had managed to sit like a normal human being. He was still pressed close enough that they were sharing body heat, one possessive hand resting on Gi-hun's thigh, but he wasn't actively scanning for threats or jumping at every sound.
It had felt like progress.
Then a small army of children descended upon the playground like a chaotic swarm of pure energy.
Gi-hun watched them with idle amusement. "They're pretty cute," he said, as a little girl with pigtails tried to convince her terrified friend that the big slide wasn't a death trap.
That's when he felt Sang-woo go very, very still beside him.
It wasn't the alert stillness of someone who'd spotted danger. This was something different, something softer. When Gi-hun turned to look at him, Sang-woo's expression had gone all melted and yearning.
"Oh no," Gi-hun said immediately. "Absolutely not."
"What?" Sang-woo's voice had gone rough and distracted, his hand tightening on Gi-hun's own.
"That look. That's your 'let's make babies right this second' look. We've talked about this."
"I wasn't saying anything about babies."
"You didn't have to say it. I can practically see the thought bubbles forming over your head." Gi-hun shifted to face him. "We agreed that we wanted to be financially stable first, remember?"
But Sang-woo was looking at him with those devastating puppy-dog eyes, the ones historically responsible for several questionable life decisions on Gi-hun's part.
"Just-" Sang-woo swallowed hard. "Look at them, though."
"I'm looking at them."
"Just think about how perfect our pups would be."
"That's your rut brain talking," Gi-hun said firmly. "Your actual, rational brain knows that we're not ready for kids yet."
Sang-woo made a sound somewhere between a whine and a growl.
"I don't care," Sang-woo said simply. "I want a family with you."
And fuck, that hit Gi-hun right in the chest. Because he did want that, eventually. He wanted kids with Sang-woo, wanted to see what their family would look like, wanted to give Sang-woo the pups that would make him light up.
Just not yet. Not when they were still figuring out the basic mechanics of their own relationship, not when their financial situation was more "stable" than "comfortable," not when their apartment was barely big enough for two adults, let alone tiny humans who would require space and attention and baby-proofing everything.
"I do want that," Gi-hun said softly. "Someday. When we're actually ready to give them everything they'd deserve."
"When?" Sang-woo asked, like he was hoping Gi-hun might pull out a calendar.
"I don't know yet. But definitely not because rut hormones are making you want to play house."
Sang-woo deflated slightly, but nodded with reluctant acceptance.
"Stupid logical brain," he muttered.
"Yeah, well, take it up with logical-you when he gets back," Gi-hun said, squeezing Sang-woo's hand.
When they got home from the park, Gi-hun headed straight to the kitchen for water. He was standing at the sink when he started hearing rhythmic tapping from the living room.
"Sang-woo?" he called out. No response. Just more tapping, accompanied by what sounded like humming.
Curious and slightly concerned, he walked back toward the living room and stopped dead in the doorway.
Sang-woo was dancing.
Not just swaying or moving restlessly, he was performing an elaborate, choreographed routine around their coffee table. There was chest puffing involved, and arm movements that looked like a bird showing off its plumage, and rhythmic stepping in a deliberate circular pattern.
"What the actual fuck," Gi-hun said slowly. "What--what are you doing?"
Sang-woo stopped mid-spin and blinked at him. "I'm showing you."
"Showing me what, exactly?"
"That I'm a good mate." Sang-woo resumed his dance, adding a shoulder roll. "Strong. Good provider."
Gi-hun stood there and watched his boyfriend perform what was unmistakably a mating display in their living room.
"How is this my life," he said to no one in particular.
"I want pups with you," Sang-woo explained. "I need to show you that I'm worthy. That I would take care of our family."
"Sang-woo, we literally just had a conversation about how we're not ready for kids yet."
Sang-woo's face scrunched up in confusion, like he was trying to reconcile his rational thoughts with whatever primal imperative had compelled him to choreograph an entire mating ritual in their living room.
"But... I did the dance," he said weakly.
"Yes. I saw the dance. All five minutes of it."
"Was it good?"
Gi-hun stared at his boyfriend's earnest, hopeful expression.
"It was very thorough," Gi-hun said finally.
Sang-woo's entire face lit up like Gi-hun had just awarded him a gold medal.
" I mean, you’re outside by yourself right now, so...I'm guessing he’s probably come to his senses" Jung-bae says.
"Yeah, took a lot of convincing, but I think--" Gi-hun stops, noticing Jung-bae’s expression. "He's right behind me, isn’t he?"
He turns, and sure enough. Sang-woo is pressed against the front window like a desperate stalker, hair wild, clothes rumpled, little puffs of breath fogging the glass. His eyes lock on Gi-hun, intense and unwavering.
Jung-bae is clearly trying not to laugh, phone in hand.
Sang-woo notices he’s been caught and straightens, trying to act casual.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Gi-hun mutters, smiling despite himself.
The automatic doors whoosh open. Sang-woo strides straight to him, ignoring everyone else, and scoops Gi-hun up bridal-style like it’s perfectly normal.
"Sang-woo," Gi-hun says, exasperated but fond. "People are staring."
"I don’t care," Sang-woo says, rough with sleep and lingering rut instincts. "You were gone too long."
"It’s been two hours."
"Way too long."
Gi-hun glances over Sang-woo’s shoulder at Jung-bae, who is openly enjoying the chaos.
"This is what I've been dealing with for three weeks," Gi-hun says.
"I can see that," Jung-bae says, grinning. "Don’t worry about the groceries,I’ll drop some by later. Assuming he doesn’t tackle me for getting near the building."
Sang-woo makes a sound,grateful? territorial? It was impossible to tell.
"Thanks," Gi-hun says, looking down at Sang-woo with exasperated fondness. "Okay, you ridiculous man. Take me home."
He settles comfortably in Sang-woo’s arms, smiling, as they head for the automatic doors.
Behind them, Jung-bae is still laughing, already plotting how to tell everyone this story.