Butterfly Effect || BTS Universe

Glass

The Boy Who Went Astray

"Shit."

An exasperated gasp left his lips as the whiskey burned his throat. He slammed the shot glass down, pencils falling to the ground from the force. He cleared his throat in an attempt to sooth the burn lining his esophagus.

Static blared through cloudy speakers beside him. He gave up with tuning the music, too buzzed to even care what played. As long as it wasn't complete silence, he was fine.

The quiet terrified him.

His chair screeched against the metal floor as he stood. It tipped and fell, clattering against the other side of the wall. His room was tiny. It wasn't even a room. It was a trailer car. The one he had stayed in before he left the city.

Did he regret it? Absolutely. Does he believe that things have changed since he left? Totally. Will everything end up fine, like how it was before? Never.

Hazy eyes landed on the mirror next to the desk and he stared bitterly at the faded words written on the glass. He tried every cleaning product that existed to get the words off, but nothing could rub away the letters, no matter how hard he tried.

He grimaced and grabbed the whiskey bottle and poured himself another shot. He didn't have work until late tomorrow. A couple of pain killers would get rid of his hangover in no time before he had to go.

He downed the shot easier this time. The numbness growing in his body only welcomed the warmth that floated down from his mouth to his stomach. He shivered.

The whiskey bottle landed on the table with a hard thud, grip still tight around the neck of the glass. His groaning stomach reminded him that he hadn't had a meal in two days. It wasn't like he could afford it. That's how it always was.

His jumbled mind debated whether or not to spend his money on a cup of ramen or buy more water bottles. He couldn't exactly drink the tap here. It was a five mile walk to the nearest spout that wasn't guarded by territorial homeless people. With a sigh, he decided water. The body could live without food for longer anyways.

The boy stumbled forward and he barely caught himself on the table. He took a couple of steps forward until he reached the corner of his room. It hit him then that he was way too big for this trailer car. Had he grown that much in the last two years? He didn't know nor care.

It also hit him how much of a shithole he lived in. Not like he had much choice anyways. It used to be homey, because it was louder, more brighter. He had a reason to be here.

And when he came back, it felt more secluded then ever before. It was dreary and silent. He had never felt more alone. Never felt more lost.

He blamed the sudden fuzziness of his vision on his heightened buzz, but the warm trickle of liquid running down his cheeks denied him of that thought.

A strangled sob bubbled up from his throat and his legs gave out from underneath him. He slid down the wall and collapsed to the ground. The sounds of his bawling were drowned out by the static emitting from his speakers.

. . .

"Taehyung, get up."

A sharp jab to the side was all it took to have the boy jerk and fall off the bed. The older one snickered and tapped him with his foot, "Come on, you have work today." A delirious Taehyung groaned as he sat up, rubbing his eyes was scratched up hands. The other boy never questioned how he got those marks.

"Namjoon-hyung, you're too abrupt. Can't you wake me up a little more softer?" Taehyung complained. Namjoon hummed in thought, "No."

He helped his friend off the floor and Taehyung got a good look at Namjoon. He chuckled, "You look like shit."