Let’s make the human pet AU age gap shall we…? 😙
Maybe in this AU, Gi-hun is born into it. He doesn’t know any life outside of being someone’s dog, or cat, or bunny, or anything like that—but because of his sometimes sporadic attitude, he’s been known to get returned to the shelter. Cue In-ho.
In-ho adopts him in spite of his “bad temper” because he thinks that he can dampen it. This young 20-something has only ever known being a pet, but has he ever experienced true kindness from an owner? Has anyone ever stopped to ask him what he thinks? In-ho provides that for him. He actually *speaks* to him, treats him with the bare minimum amount of respect, and doesn’t hit or abuse him for something like pissing in the house. He lets Gi-hun get used to this, letting his personality start to blossom a little bit, before he takes it all away. This leaves Gi-hun confused. Is my owner good? Does he love me? He told me he loved me! It doesn’t make any sense. Did I do something wrong? …Over and over again. Poor Gi-hun!
Gi-hun was born into the foster care system. But when he was finally old enough to be adopted, families would often return him. Gi-hun was described as an energetic, lively, somewhat mischievous, and very affectionate puppy. But apparently his owners hated the mess that came with his playfulness. They didn’t like how he’d knock food over while eating, how clumsy he was, how stubborn he is, or how reactive he gets if teased too much.
They wanted a lap pet—someone well-behaved, who smiles, sits on your lap, enjoys affection, is very obedient, and doesn’t depend on the owner. He used to be a kitten, a puppy, and last time, even a little bunny. It was great—until they decided that for this clumsy little bunny, it was better to spend the day in his cage and only come out for exercise. Gi-hun pushed himself—cage and all—down the stairs to break it open, because he really needed to use the bathroom, but it was the middle of the night. In the end, he woke up the whole house, alarmed the neighbors, made a mess, and even soiled the floor, since he couldn’t hold it in.
He was returned. And after six adoptions in a year and a half, they had already lost hope. If he reached 30 without a family, he’d likely be sold as a farm horse, pulling a plow and making cargo deliveries. Gi-hun was already 23 years old.
Until he arrived. Hwang In-ho.
Gi-hun figured he wouldn’t be adopted. Men like In-ho either prefer much younger foals or older ones to keep him company. However, he was surprised to be chosen. An employee was candid, warning that he had been returned many times, which embarrassed Gi-hun. But In-ho took him anyway. He paid the fee, signed the papers, and they went home.
Gi-hun’s adjustment was… slow. He tried to follow the routine, but he always strayed from something. He was still very excited to have an owner, and that led to accidents. He still spilled food. He still ran away from bath time (even though he wanted to take a bath himself!). And Gi-hun waited for In-ho to lose his temper. He overheard their conversations: In-ho was a retired dog trainer who had decided to get a pet for himself now. He expected whips, electric shocks, beatings, or at the very least a reward system, but nothing came.
It wasn’t until the end of the second week that In-ho made his first move, after observing him for a long time.
In-ho began to treat him better. He gave Gi-hun knee pads for when he crawled, but allowed him to walk on two legs without restrictions. He would ask what Gi-hun wanted to eat and place the plate (a plate, not a bowl) on the table. He liked to read and would call Gi-hun to his lap to sit there and listen to his owner’s soft murmur; some days he even taught Gi-hun to read simple words.
It was strange. Comforting. In-ho didn’t hit him; he corrected him with words. He respected Gi-hun’s decisions. He didn’t get so angry at his accidents, stubbornness, and misbehavior; Gi-hun didn’t feel like he was losing his owner’s love because of it—he’d just made a mistake. It was paradise. He’d finally found someone who loved him and....
And he fell face-first into a hole.
Because one day, In-ho ignored him. He set the bowl of cereal on the floor and went to have his coffee in the armchair. He ignored Gi-hun’s excitement when he came home, telling him to be quiet and get out of the way. He didn’t invite Gi-hun into bed; he just laid a blanket on the living room floor. He no longer spoke to Gi-hun except to give simple commands, and whenever Gi-hun took too long to respond, In-ho would get disappointed and ignore him for hours.
And Gi-hun was panicking. What did he do?! Why is his owner acting like this? Did he mess up? Did he do something wrong? Did his owner run out of patience? Why? Why?! Days had gone by like this. Gi-hun was struggling, longing for affection and attention, only to be rejected day after day.
Until one night, when In-ho came home from work, Gi-hun crawled to his feet in tears and said, through his tears, that he was so sorry. That he didn’t want to be a bad pet, that he was sorry for hurting In-ho. Gi-hun said he loved his owner and didn’t want to leave—he’s happy there—and if In-ho isn’t happy, Gi-hun can do better! He’ll be a good boy—just please, don’t send him away...
And at that moment, In-ho knew he had trained Gi-hun.
