prone to melancholy @skelejor - Tumblr Blog

10h

Instinct (Part 2)

Pairing: test subject!mingi x scientist’s daughter!black reader

Song Mingi (Subject 0809). A wonder in discovery of what happens when one drops a child into the jungle and watches him grow up alone for two decades, the only human contact being with men in white coats shouting and treating him like a wild animal.

Enter you.

Your father—the reason Subject 0809 is an experiment in the first place—had the brilliant idea of putting you in the jungle with him under the guise of observing how he reacts to human contact for a full week. Little did they know you would become someone Mingi doesn't want taken away from him.

WARNINGS: slow burn, angst with a happy ending, emotional attachment through fascination, human experimentation and unethical scientific research, institutional abuse, forced isolation, emotional manipulation by authority figures, mild injuries, trauma and recovery, psychological distress, separation anxiety, abandonment, it gets super sad later

pt 1

————

Mornings are quieter.

You wake before the light fully settles through the trees, the forest still soft with early stillness. For a moment, you don’t move—just listen.

The subtle shift of leaves.

The distant call of something waking.

And then… breathing.

Mingi sits a few feet away, not watching the way he used to.

Waiting.

You notice it the second morning. By the third, you expect it.

“Good morning, Mingi,” you mumble, voice still warm with sleep.

He pauses.

Morning.

He understands that now. Not just as a time—but as something that belongs to you.

“…Morning,” he replies, quieter than before, easier. Your lips curve faintly.

That feeling again.

He doesn’t know what to do with it.

The days stretch peacefully.

You move through the forest slowly, never forcing direction, never pulling him somewhere he doesn’t already want to go.

Today is different.

He stands before you’ve even finished packing your sketchbook. His head turns toward the eastern trees then back to you.

“…Come.” An invitation.

You blink before smiling.

“Okay.”

He waits until you’re beside him before walking. Not ahead.

Beside.

“He initiated today’s movement,” one researcher notes. “No environmental stimulus detected. Destination unknown.”

Your father folds his arms, eyes never leaving the screen.

“Keep visual.”

The forest grows cooler the farther you travel.

The ground slopes gently downward, roots weaving through dark earth beneath your feet.

Mingi keeps glancing back not because he’s worried you’ll run but because he wants to make sure you’re still there. Whenever you slow to climb over fallen branches, he slows too. Whenever you stop to catch your footing, he waits without impatience. You notice.

“So this is somewhere important?”

He looks at you.

Important.

“…Yes.” The answer comes almost immediately.

“I can’t wait to see,” you say with a smile.

Warm.

That feeling again. Everything feels warm around you. Eventually the sound reaches you first: water. Not the quiet stream you’ve visited before—something larger. The trees part and your breath catches.

A waterfall tumbles over smooth stone into a crystal-clear pool below, sunlight scattering through the spray until tiny rainbows flicker and disappear with the mist. Wildflowers grow between moss-covered rocks. Vines drape lazily from branches overhead. The entire clearing feels untouched.

“…Mingi…” you whisper his name without looking away. “It’s beautiful.”

He watches you instead of the waterfall.

Beautiful.

You said that word before about his home.

Now…

This.

He looks between the water and you as words gather slowly. He points toward the waterfall.

“…Beautiful.”

You nod. “It is.”

His brow furrows with concentration, thinking. He points again.

“Beautiful…” Then very carefully he points at you. “You.”

Silence.

His mouth opens again.

He wants to explain.

Not same.

Like.

Reminds.

The thoughts are there, too many while at the same time not enough words. His hands move helplessly before settling against his chest. He tries again.

“…Beautiful…” His finger moves back toward the waterfall then returns to you. “…Like… you.”

Your eyes soften immediately. For a moment, you simply stare at him.

“You think…” your voice comes out barely above a whisper “this reminds you of me?”

He exhales.

Yes.

That’s it.

His entire face relaxes and he nods quickly.

“Mm.”

Your smile blooms so sweetly it almost makes his chest hurt.

“Thank you, Mingi.”

She likes it.

Good.

That warm feeling rushes through him again, brighter than before. Without thinking, he smiles back.

The observation room is silent.

“Did he…” one researcher trails off.

Another rewinds the footage.

“He made an abstract comparison.”

“No. He gave her a compliment.”

The room stays quiet but your father doesn’t.

“He associated a location with a specific individual.” His voice is clinical. “He recognized aesthetic similarity.”

But even as he says it his jaw clamps. One of the senior researchers glances sideways.

“…Sir?”

“He has begun assigning emotional significance to shared experiences.” Another pause then, much quieter “…With my daughter.”

No one speaks after that.

Your father continues watching the screen.

On it, Mingi is picking flowers that have fallen naturally into the water, carefully selecting the ones still floating, before awkwardly holding them out toward you as if the waterfall wasn’t enough.

He wants you to have a piece of it.

Your father’s expression doesn’t change.

“…Log the interaction.”

His tone remains measured but his folded arms tighten. The researcher beside him lowers his voice.

“…Should we be concerned?”

Your father watches Mingi carefully arrange another flower in your hands.

“…Continue observation. And have security remain on standby.”

No one misses the implication.

For the first time since Project 0809 began the lead scientist isn’t watching only as a researcher.

He’s watching as a father.

—

The afternoon settles into an easy rhythm.

Your sketchbook rests open beside you, abandoned for now in favor of wandering wherever Mingi decides to lead.

He never strays far.

Sometimes a few steps ahead, sometimes beside you but always looking.

The path narrows between thick roots that twist across the ground like old veins. You lift your foot carefully over one and suddenly a sharp sting catches the side of your hand.

“…Ow.”

It isn’t loud, barely more than a breath, but Mingi hears it instantly. He turns so quickly his bare feet skid slightly against the dirt. His eyes find you immediately as you stare down at your palm. A tiny splinter of wood protrudes from the side of your hand.

“…Seriously?” you mutter quietly to yourself.

You almost laugh.

Of all things…

Before you can brush it away, Mingi is already in front of you. His breathing has changed—faster. His gaze darts from your face to your hand.

“…Hurt?”

The word comes out strained.

“Oh.” You hold your hand up slightly. “It’s okay.”

He doesn’t believe you. His brows pull together.

Your hand.

Wrong.

He reaches toward it before stopping himself halfway, waiting for your confirmation. You remember the first time he touched your hand. The silent question. You offer him a tiny nod.

“It’s okay.”

His fingers close around your wrist with impossible gentleness as though you’re something that might break. He turns your hand over slowly and the splinter catches the light. He freezes.

So small.

But…

It made you make that sound.

He doesn’t like that sound.

Not from you.

His thumb hovers beside the splinter.

He remembers.

Thorns.

He has pulled them from his own feet.

Same.

He slowly pinches the end between two fingers. You watch him work with complete concentration, tongue peeking against the inside of his cheek. With one steady pull, the splinter slides free and he immediately looks back at your hand like he’s checking for your reaction.

“…Better?” he asks softly.

Your heart melts a little and you smile.

“So much better.”

Relief floods across his face so quickly it almost hurts to see. His shoulders finally lower.

Safe.

Good.

Without thinking, he lifts your hand again and blows gently across the tiny red mark. A habit learned from no one, just instinct as if cool air alone could take the sting away. You stare at him.

“Thank you.”

He glances between your face and your hand again. The tiny mark is still there. The jungle…

Hurt.

Confusion takes over him. The jungle doesn’t hurt. The jungle feeds, shelters and protects. His eyes lift toward the tree where the splinter came from. He frowns at it deeply as if he's disappointed. You follow his gaze before quietly laughing.

“It wasn’t trying to hurt me.”

He looks back at you.

“…No?”

You shake your head. “Sometimes accidents happen.”

He considers that for a long moment.

Accidents.

Another new word. Another strange thing humans seem to accept. He isn’t sure he likes it. Miles away…

“…He treated the injury.”

One researcher leans closer to the monitor.

“No prompting. He identified pain, diagnosed the source, removed the foreign object then reassessed afterward.”

Another researcher quietly adds, “That’s remarkably sophisticated.”

“No,” someone else says. “It’s compassionate.”

Onscreen, Mingi is still staring suspiciously at the offending tree as though expecting it to apologize. A few people can’t help the tiny smiles tugging at their mouths. One of the younger technicians mutters,

“I think… I think he’s mad at the tree.”

A few soft chuckles ripple through the room. Even your father glances briefly at the monitor showing the rough bark.

“…Log the interaction.”

His voice remains even.

But one corner of the room still hasn’t stopped smiling.

—

The day begins warm.

The air hangs heavier than usual, clinging to your skin in a way you can’t quite explain. Mingi notices before you do. He pauses more often, looks upward and listens.

The birds grow quieter. Even the insects seem to disappear. You glance toward the canopy.

“…Rain?”

He nods once. “…Soon.”

You’ve learned enough by now to trust him more than the weather instruments inside the facility. You smile.

“Then we should head home.”

Home.

He likes that word. His hand finds yours almost automatically. You don’t even think about it anymore. Your fingers fit together naturally as he leads you through the trees.

Miles away one researcher glances toward another monitor.

“Pressure’s dropping. Storm front approaching. It’ll pass over the enclosure in approximately… twenty -three minutes.”

Your father studies the weather projection.

“…Monitor closely. Make sure my daughter remains safe.”

The first raindrop lands on your shoulder. Then another, cool and gentle. You smile faintly.

“I’ve always liked the smell before it rains.”

Mingi looks at you.

Smell.

Rain.

Happy.

Good.

A far away rumble rolls through the sky. Your smile disappears so quickly he almost thinks he imagined it. Your hand tightens around his.

Wrong.

Another flash and the trees light up white for the briefest moment. Thunder follows almost instantly. You flinch so hard your shoulders jump and Mingi stops walking.

His eyes search your face in confusion.

Rain is normal. Rain feeds. Rain cools. Why…

You take an uneven breath.

“It’s…” You force a laugh that convinces absolutely no one. “I don’t like storms.”

Another crack echoes through the forest.

You instinctively duck your head and your breathing changes , shallower and faster. Mingi watches every tiny shift.

Your heart.

Your shoulders.

Your eyes.

This…

This is fear.

Not pretend.

Real.

He doesn’t understand why. The storm isn’t chasing you.nNothing is hunting you.nBut you are frightened anyway.

Wrong.

You shouldn’t look like this.

Inside the observation room a technician’s face immediately falls.

“…She hates thunderstorms.”

Another researcher glances toward your father.

“Sir…”

He already knows.

Of course he knows.

He remembers being there when you were little. The way you’d crawl into his lap during summer storms. The way you’d cover your ears. And your father’s worst nightmare, is seeing you scared. He stands abruptly.

“Prepare retrieval.

The room moves instantly. Hands reach for controls. Security personnel step toward the access corridor. Suddenly-

“Wait.”

Your father’s voice stops them.

Everyone looks back at the screen.

Mingi doesn’t know what storms mean to humans. He only knows… you are hurting. He looks around desperately.

Treehouse. Too far.

Cave. Too far.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Another deafening crack splits the sky. You squeeze your eyes shut.

“Mingi…” Your voice shakes. “I…”

He freezes.

Thinking.

Then very slowly he steps closer. His free hand rises carefully to your cheek.

Waiting.

You look at him and even through the fear you nod. He leans forward until your foreheads touch gently. His eyes close and his breathing slows deliberately. Not because he knows breathing exercises. Because that’s what he does when frightened animals won’t stop trembling.

You feel it.

The steady rhythm against your forehead. The warmth of his skin. The way his hand remains gently around yours. Without realizing it your own breathing starts matching his.

Another flash and rumble. You still jump but… less.

“…Here.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

One word.

One promise.

Here.

You nod. “I’m here too.”

He doesn’t move away and neither do you. The storm continues around you but it doesn’t feel quite so loud anymore.

No one speaks inside the observation room, not even the technicians.

Onscreen, the subject stands perfectly still, forehead resting against yours and matching your breathing. Keeping you calm. One researcher quietly lowers the retrieval headset.

“…Her heart rate…” They check the monitor. “It’s coming down rapidly.”

Someone else whispers, “He recognized emotional distress and independently selected a calming behavior.”

Your father doesn’t take his eyes off the screen. His daughter’s shoulders have relaxed. You’re no longer shaking. Another researcher speaks carefully.

“Sir…”

He already knows the question.

“Do we proceed with retrieval?”

Every instinct in him screams yes. Go get her. She’s scared. I need to hug my daughter. Bring her home.

Instead, he watches Mingi gently brush damp hair away from your face after another gust of wind, making sure he can still see your eyes.

Checking.

Always checking.

His voice comes quieter than before.

“…Negative.”

The room stills.

“Continue observation.” then almost too quietly to hear… “…She’s safe.”

No one comments on the fact that those last two words weren’t spoken as the lead scientist. They were spoken as your father.

Later that evening, the rain has faded to a quiet drizzle. Drops continue falling lazily from the leaves overhead. You sit beneath the treehouse wrapped in one of Mingi’s woven blankets. The forest smells clean.

You look over at him.

“Thank you.”

He tilts his head.

“For staying with me.”

He doesn’t understand why you’re thanking him. Where else would he have been? Instead he simply leans over again.

Bonk.

Forehead against forehead. You laugh through the last remnants of your tears.

“I know.” You close your eyes. “I missed you too.”

Mingi smiles.

Good.

She’s smiling again.

Everything is right.

—

The forest is still damp from yesterday’s rain.

Tiny droplets cling to every leaf, catching the morning light until the entire canopy sparkles.

You sit near the edge of the treehouse, sketchbook balanced on your knees.

Mingi watches you not because you’re drawing. Just because you’re here. The silence between you has become comfortable.After a while, you close the sketchbook.

“You’ve been thinking.”

His eyes lift.

Thinking.

“…Yes.”

You smile.

“What about?”

He looks around the treehouse.

Home. The woven blankets. The shelves he’d built. The flowers you’d pressed between pages. Then…

You.

His fingers fidget together.

Words.

Too many words.

He wants this one right.

“…Stay.”

You blink.

“…Stay?”

He nods quickly. He points toward the treehouse.

“…Home.” He points toward you. “…You.”

Your heart skips.

“Mingi…”

He searches desperately for more words.

“Together …always.”

The world goes completely quiet. You stare at him. He isn’t proposing. He doesn’t know proposals exist. He’s simply telling you the truest thing he knows.

Home feels like home because you’re in it. A smile slowly spreads across your face.

“I…” Your voice catches. “I want that too.”

His eyes widen.

Really?

You nod. “I do.”

That warm feeling; the biggest one yet. He smiles so brightly it almost doesn’t look like the same man from a week ago. He steps closer automatically.

Forehead.

He wants—

A sharp electronic tone cuts through the forest.

Every bird explodes into flight.

Mingi freezes.

Wrong.

You stand abruptly.

“…No.”

Another tone.

Closer.

Branches begin moving.

Not animals.

People.

“Mingi…”

His body changes instantly. Every relaxed muscle tightens.

Protect.

Threat.

The retrieval team emerges first with protective equipment, medical packs and security. Behind them, one familiar figure appears.

Your father.

He isn’t carrying a clipboard today and watching through glass. He’s here. His eyes find yours immediately. Relief flashes across his face before he can hide it.

“There you are.”

“Dad…”

You look between him and Mingi.

“What are you doing here?”

He takes one careful step forward.

“The experiment is over.”

“…What?”

“I’m taking you home.”

“No.”

The answer leaves your mouth before you even think. His expression falters.

“No?”

“I’m okay.”

“I know.”

“You don’t.” You glance toward Mingi. “I’m happy here.”

Your father follows your gaze. Mingi has moved. Not attacking—never attacking—simply standing between you and everyone else, shoulders squared, ready to drive them away if need be.

He doesn’t understand the words but he understands enough. They came. She looks frightened again. One of the security officers shifts and Mingi immediately notices. Your father lifts a hand.

“Stand down.”

The movement stops and he keeps his eyes on Mingi.

“Mingi.”

The name leaves your father’s mouth for the first time.

Not “Subject 0809.”

Not “the subject.”

Mingi.

The younger man’s head tilts. He recognizes his name. Your father continues carefully.

“…Thank you.”

The entire team looks at him.

“I know you protected her. I’ll always be grateful for that.”

Your throat almost closes completely.

“But…” His voice breaks ever so slightly. “…She’s my daughter. I have to bring her home.”

Mingi understands enough.

Home.

Daughter.

Take.

No.

He looks at you then back at your father. His breathing becomes uneven.

“…No.”

The word comes clearer than it’s ever been. Your father’s face falls.

“…Mingi.”

“No.” He shakes his head then turns desperately toward you. “…Stay.”

Your eyes fill with tears.

“I…” You step toward him. “I want to.”

Every researcher freezes. You continue.

“I really do.”

Your father closes his eyes for one painful second. Because hearing that hurts way more than he expected.

“I have to go.”

Mingi doesn’t move. He doesn’t understand.

“…Why?”

You reach up slowly and cup his cheek.

“My dad…” Your voice trembles. “…He loves me.”

Mingi looks toward the older man.

Love.

Father.

His eyes move back to you as you smile through tears.

“I’ll come back.”

You don’t know if that’s true but you need him to believe something. He searches your face then leans forward, resting his forehead against yours one last time. His eyes close and he stays there long enough to memorize you: your warmth, the scent of rain still lingering in your hair, the rhythm of your breathing.

Everything.

When he finally pulls away…

He carefully reaches behind one of the wooden beams and retrieves something.

Your drawing.

The one from the waterfall, perfectly protected. He presses it into your hands.

“…Keep.”

Not because he doesn’t want it anymore. If you’re leaving…a part of him should go with you. You clutch the drawing to your chest unable to speak. Your father quietly turns away giving you both one final moment.

Not as the lead scientist.

As a man watching his daughter say goodbye to someone she genuinely cares about.

When it’s finally time you take one step backward.

Mingi doesn’t follow.

He just watches until the trees hide you completely. Only then does he quietly sit down where you’d been standing , resting one hand against the damp earth that’s still warm from where you were. As if maybe…

If he waits long enough…

You’ll come back.

————

Please don’t be upset I wrote this at 2 AM in bed on my phone not even on my laptop spare me😭and no I did NOT kiss the brick before I threw it.

taglist: @baw-sixteen