BTS WINGS Theory

Namjoon

"Hey! Get back to work! Breaks over buddy!" Shithead ass manager yells through the tent as I hurriedly stuff the rest of my sandwich in my mouth.  I pick up my hat and head back into the gas station to clock in. Ever since the incident with jungkook happened, I've had to work to survive. I miss him, I miss all of them....except *honk honk*.
The car horn honks waking me from my thoughts.

"Annyeonghaseyo! How much?" I ask with my best attempt at being polite.
"Fill it up boy!" A scruffy man yells, obviously intoxicated. His drunkenness makes me lick my lips. I wish I had a drink right now. I try to only drink just enough before work to numb my pain but as soon as I escape this prison I drown myself to escape this place. This world.

"Go ahead and clean up the bathroom and then you can leave!" My manager yells again as I finish pumping gas for my last customer.
I walk to the back of the store and a cold breeze brushes over me, bumps appear on my arm as my hair stand on end. I open the door to the smell of metal or copper...blood?

I look down at the floor to see a little brown envelope sitting in a small pool of blood. What the fuck. I slide the rubber gloves over my hands and slowly lift the letter out of its red sea. I grab some paper towel and clean off the envelope and slide it in my jacket pocket. This bathroom smells like complete shit.

I finally make it to my makeshift home i created from an old abandoned train boxcar. I can't afford a place of my own anymore so this is the best of what i have. I hurriedly reach under the bed for my secret stash of liquor. I pour my glass half full and immediately empty it down my throat. The warm liquid burns my throat. I look forward to the numbness that will ensue as i lean back in my chair staring at the ridged ceiling. I start to remember the way it used to be, the way i used to be.  With my brothers, my best friends, the ones who were always there for me...all gone. And all because of him. I reach into my pockets and feel the stiffness of the envelope. I slowly take it out admiring the simplicity of it. I pour myself another glass and take a sip, i just need the taste in my mouth.  I open the letter to find a piece of paper with a large bird drawn in black ink. What the fuck is this? I thought it would be something more interesting than this, especially being found in a pool of blood. Fucking stupid! I rummage my hand around my messy desk and find a lighter. I look at the picture one more time before placing the paper over the faint flames. Slowly the damp, bloody piece of paper ignites and i feel a shiver run up my spine. I watch as the wings of the bird ignite and soon disappear. The fire quickly approaches my finger tips and for a split second I don't feel any pain. Everything feels numb. I quickly panic as my nail starts to melt and I throw what is left of the piece of paper into my drink. Fuck! I wasn't done drinking that! I sit and stare at the glass, my poor ruined drink. I lean back in my chair and cross my arms, throwing a grown man fit. Staring at the glass watching as the ashes dissolve turning my light brown scotch into a dark murky swamp. Fuck it, I'm drinking it.

Quickly as possible I swallow the swamp water and lean back, trying as hard as possible not to gag on the ash that struggles to make its way down.
Suddenly the room starts to spin and my heartbeat picks up in excitement. This is the feeling i want, the reason why I drown myself in alcohol. To feel this numbness, to forget, forget it all. I lean my head up to the ceiling and close my eyes. Black, everything is so black. My stomach drops and I feel cold. I open my eyes and I'm encased in glass. It looks like my boxcar house...but glass and completely empty. What the fuck, how did I even get here? I stand and feel a pain in my arm. I look down and it's covered in ink, the same bird as the letter along with splashes of watercolor. The art begins to move on my arm, the wings of the bird begins to flap causing the colors to travel across my arm. I've got to be drunk out of my mind. I sit in awe as the art plays out in front of me and suddenly the bird flies off of my arm and breaks out of my glass home. Glass shatters all around me and a sharp pitch pierces my ears. The noise slowly lowers pitch and starts to sound something like a whistle. The tune plays over and over again. Where is the whistle coming from, is someone in here? I pick myself up and follow the sound.
"Hello? Is someone out there?" I stand at the edge of the shattered glass, afraid to step over it and out into the pitch black unknown. Just do it, go! Slowly, I lift my foot and crush the glass under my shoes. Fuck fuck fuck, my heartbeat picks up and all I can hear is the whistle and my heart. Almost as if them together was a song.
*ring ring*
I hear a phone ring and quickly turn towards the sound. Is there someone else in here?
I walk towards the ringing phone and feel as though someone is following me. I pick up the pace and the figure following me does the same. Faster and faster my feet start to run and so does the figure.
"Leave me alone!" I scream as I run towards nothing, all black, just nothing. The figure behind me screeches and the sound of wings flapping startle me causing me to fall to the ground. I look up and there stands a phone booth, yelling at me to answer. The figure seems to have left and now I'm left with the phone booth dimly lit. I pick myself and reach for the handle to find a lock connected to a chain. What kind of idiot puts chains and locks around a working phone booth?
I stand there for what feels like hours trying to break the locks, trying to answer the phones cries. I close my eyes in defeat and open them to the sun shining on my face. Where is this light coming from?

"Namjoon! What the hell are you doing!? Finish pumping the gas!" the voice of my shitty manager echos through my ears as my eyes begin to focus.  How did i get back to my job? I squint my eyes tight, maybe this is a dream. I hold my eyes shut and hear the screech of the winged figure and open my eyes again. Still at the gas station. Take me back to the phone booth! I squint again and the whistled tune plays in my ears, rocking me back and forth, drawing me closer to whatever blackness i was in. I open my eyes again and everything turns black.
"Namjoon! Namjoon wake up! If you're fucking drunk again, you're fired!"

~~~

I sit in my box car home looking back on what happened in the past few hours, or what felt like it. Was i that drunk to have passed out and went into a dark world of weird flying creatures and locked phone booths? How did i get to work? How was i able to hear the noises of my drunken world? What am i going to do now that i don't have a job anymore.

This is his fault. If he had helped jungkook...none of this would have happened. I wouldn't be an alcoholic if he had just helped. I'll make him pay for this.