schizophrenic [myg] by JaiPasDeNomLol (not my story)
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    schizophrenic [myg] by JaiPasDeNomLol (not my story)

    Fanfiction

    Min Yoongi has been mentally ill with schizophrenia since he was fifteen. He's now twenty-five, and the new employee at the grocery store across the street intrigues him a little too much. ~~~~ This isn't my story, I'm just translating it. By JaiPa...

    #agustd #also #bts #disease #humour #lol #mental #minsuga #minyoongi #one #peu #shizophrénie #suga #ya #yoongi

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    Gigi, what the hell are you doing in a basement?
    "Huh?"
    The blond frowned.
    What was he doing in the cellars?
    A dim light shone on him.
    How had he gotten there?
    He looked down.
    He was sitting behind some furniture.
    Against the dust-filled wall.
    And mold.
    His knees were bleeding.
    He could see it in the hole in his jeans.
    He tried to get up.
    Holding onto the chest of drawers.
    The one that hid him.
    He looked at his hands.
    Why was there blood?
    He wiped his hands on his sweater.
    White.
    His sweater was white.
    He didn't have a white sweater.
    ... Yoongi?
    "WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED? WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!"
    He was screaming.
    He didn't even know what time it was.
    Maybe he didn't.
    Neighbors were walking by.
    They'd heard him screaming.
    "I'M FUCKING TALKING TO YOU!"
    It wasn't me!
    Yoongi ... I couldn't stop him ...
    "You told me you'd do it! You're a liar!"
    I tried, I swear!
    It's all right, Gigi, I didn't do much.
    "Didn't do much? Are you kidding me?! What the hell am I doing in blood and a basement?!"
    He didn't even tackle a chick, the idiot.
    I just tangled with some guys, they were checking us out, these little punks.
    "What the fuck did you go and fight for? What the fuck am I doing here?!"
    I couldn't find your fucking keys, I think I forgot them in the bar I went to.
    "Fuck ..."
    He ran his hand through his blond mane.
    Pissed off at him.
    Him or himself.
    Either way, corporeally speaking, they were the same.
    He made his way through the cellar.
    Despite the strong pain, he felt.
    On the shoulder.
    He finally got out of this place.
    Dirty and dusty.
    And was blinded by the sunlight.
    It took him a few moments to get used to it.
    And continued up the stairs.
    Finally, he arrived in front of his apartment.
    Which was locked.
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