No Place Like Home // namgi

one

Min Yoongi didn't have a home.

Sure, he had a place to rest his head and eat his meals, but it was in no way a "home". He had no family, the people who were supposed to support and love him tossed him out into the brutal world when he was sixteen. It was from a mixture of him being the most difficult child anyone had ever come across and him coming out as homosexual. No one wanted anything to do with Yoongi after that, so they gave him a fifty dollar bill and sent him on his way.

As expected, with someone of his mental condition, that resulted in his first suicide attempt. The details will be spared, but it wasn't something anyone would want to experience or be informed about.

He resided in and out of the hospital for roughly a year and a half, until he was eighteen and able to hold a job.

Of course, that absolutely did not happen. Not with his delusional thoughts and manic episodes. No one would hire him, they knew it wouldn't be worth the time.

So in the end, he was pushed to the very edge of society, far away from anyone. He quickly became a recluse, only leaving his home when it was absolutely necessary, which he deemed as never.

Tonight, however, was different.

Yoongi hadn't left the house in nearly a month and hadn't seen another person in over twice that. As one would expect, that didn't do anything good for him at all. It heightened his sensitivity to what others said and intensified the episodes that they caused.

Due to this, Yoongi made an impulse decision. He wanted out, out of his mind. So here he was, standing outside of the hospital in the area in clothes he'd been wearing for two weeks with a pocket knife pressed against his thigh in his pocket.

Yoongi showed no emotion other than a friendly smile whenever someone would pass him by on their way out of the hospital. He walked inside the entrance and stood himself over by the piano across from the front desk. His fingers grazed carefully across the ivory keys in front of him with a small and devilish smile upon his lips.

The woman at the desk stared at him almost impatiently, wanting to know why some obviously homeless man had waltzed into the room just to look around.

"Excuse me, sir?" She eventually said, her eyes trained carefully on Yoongi.  He turned and looked at her, the smile he'd previously had returning.

"Hm? Oh, hello." He says, walking over to the desk.

"I'd like to see a doctor." He says simply, which confuses the lady.

"Sir, nothing is wrong with you?" She dares to question, cocking an eyebrow as Yoongi begins to laugh almost hysterically.

"Oh, is that so?" He smirks and thrusts his hand into his pocket, feeling the pocket knife against his skin.

"Who the fuck are you to tell me nothing is wrong with me?" He asks, "you work the front desk, dumbass." He shakes his head, laughing once more.

"Okay, Sir, I cannot let you walk in and see a doctor. There isn't anything wrong with you." She stated matter-o-factly.

Yoongi scoffed and finally pulled the knife from the pocket of his jeans, fondly running his fingers over the closed encasing of it. The woman watches, unsure of what was to happen between the two of them.

To her horror, Yoongi flipped the knife open, revealing the perfectly untouched blade, just waiting to be used.

"S-Sir..?" The lady stammered, her pupils dilated as the young male before her pressed the blade firmly against his skin.

Before she could interject any further, he drug the blade firmly down the skin above his main vein in his left arm before doing the exact same thing to his right one. The entire time his face held a satisfied smirk, a genuine sign of his fucked up mind.

After both cuts were completed, his thin fingers released the blood covered pocket knife, allowing it to drop onto the white linoleum floor. His hands went up into the air, his smirk remaining as his warm blood dripped from his forearm down his skin, soaking his shirt in the crimson liquid.

"May I see a doctor now?" He questioned with one of his smirks, his voice cold and now emotionless. She immediately nodded, wiping away the tears that had formed in her eyes. She rushed over into the hallway, enlisting the help of the few nurses who were around to get him into the emergency room as quickly as possible.

By the time he was in a room, Yoongi had passed out from the blood loss. The entire time however, he wore a cold smile.

When he woke, he had been stitched up and taken to an actual hospital room instead of the ones in the emergency ward. He had multiple machines hooked up to him, one monitoring his heart rate, another pumping him full of whatever drug concoction the nurses decided he was worthy of. Whatever it was, he felt good. Unstable, as always, but not in pain for the first time in what felt like forever.

Once his eyes adjusted to the depressing florescent lighting he finally got a good look around his room. Apparently, they'd been able to dig up his medical file from somewhere and had written all of his information on a white board across from him. Upon it read his name, blood type, age, weight, height, and other bullshit that didn't really matter.

What did catch his attention was a bit of bold writing at the bottom of the board under the assignments section which read: WILL TRANSFER TO PYSCH FACILITY MONDAY MORNING.

"Fuckin' great." Yoongi mumbled, laying himself back down and allowing for his eyes to close once more before whatever was in his veins put him back to sleep.