Stigma Love's Algorithm [ A BTS x Reader Poly ]

Chapter 2: Tangled Conversations

I couldn’t be sure, but it was like he could see right through me. Like I was an open book he’d already read cover to cover.

“Not the first time I’ve been called a ‘novel,’” he replied, his tone playful but laced with a hint of something deeper.

“But I get it. It’s a lot to process.”

I blinked. "You’re telling me."

Then, out of sheer awkwardness, I began to fidget with my sleeve, pulling at the hem of my sweater like it was somehow going to give me the courage I needed to speak more clearly.

It didn’t work. I glanced up at him, half-expecting him to be looking at me with that calm, detached gaze of his.

But no.

This time, he was watching me intently, like he was waiting for me to say something important.

I swallowed again, and then—because I couldn’t just leave things hanging—I blurted out the first question that popped into my head.

“So... what exactly is this? This connection? Like, how does it even work? You and me? The app? What do we do with this?”

The question hung between us for a beat, and then he sighed, stepping around the desk to sit on the edge, his posture relaxed, but still commanding.

It was like he’d claimed the space with his presence alone.

“I don’t know," he admitted, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

“But I think we have to figure it out together.”

My heart skipped a beat.

That simple sentence, the idea of together, made something inside me flutter.

I wasn’t sure if it was fear or something else entirely, but it made my cheeks flush involuntarily.

He continued, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully as if he was choosing his words carefully.

“I'm overwhelmed too. And I have been for a long time. But when it happened—when I saw your profile, when I saw you—I realized it wasn’t random. It’s... it’s real.”

I couldn’t look away.

His words hit me harder than I expected, and a weird combination of dread and hope swirled in my chest.

“But why me?” I asked, before I could stop myself. The question felt too raw, too vulnerable, but it was out there now.

"Why the hell me, Suga? Of all people? We’re... we’re completely different. How is this supposed to work?"

He was quiet for a moment, his fingers tapping lightly on the desk, deep in thought. Then, he shifted, leaning a little closer.

His eyes never left mine, and I felt a sudden warmth rise in my cheeks.

The pull between us was undeniable, like invisible strings that tethered us together, no matter how hard I tried to ignore it.

"Maybe it’s because we’re not supposed to understand it," he said, his voice low, steady.

"Maybe it’s about accepting that this connection exists, even if it doesn’t make sense."

The quiet intensity in his tone sent a shiver down my spine.

I could feel the weight of the moment, the gravity pulling us closer, as if there was an unspoken promise hanging in the air between us.

I opened my mouth to respond, but I could barely focus.