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

Chapter 41: Warmth of the Den ⚠️

⚠️ Content Warning: This chapter contains themes of emotional distress, depression, and mental struggles, which may be triggering for some readers. Reader discretion is advised.

We don't let go.

Not even for a second.

Not when Taehyung is still shaking in our arms, breath ragged, fingers curled into Yoongi's shirt like it's the only thing keeping him together.

Not when his sobs quiet into trembling gasps, exhaustion pulling at his body as his grip on the teddy bear loosens.

Not when we finally, finally get him inside.

We don't ask questions.

We don't need to.

Right now, all that matters is him.

__________________

The apartment feels different tonight.

It's quiet-too quiet-but not the usual kind of quiet that comes with late nights and exhaustion.

This silence is thick.

Suffocating.

Like the weight of everything Taehyung has been carrying is pressing into the air itself.

He sits on the couch, a blanket draped over his shoulders, his duffle bag abandoned near the door.

His body is there, but his mind is somewhere else.

Lost.

Distant.

Yoongi moves with purpose, walking to the kitchen without a word.

I know what he's doing-he's making Taehyung's favorite tea. The one that soothes him when he's overwhelmed.

The one he always clings to when he needs warmth.

It takes a few minutes, but when Yoongi returns, he crouches in front of Taehyung and gently nudges the cup into his hands.

Taehyung stares at it for a moment, like he doesn't know what to do with it.

"Drink, baby bear," Yoongi murmurs. His voice is soft, but there's no room for argument.

Taehyung finally lifts the cup and takes a small sip.

His hands are shaking.

I sit beside him, watching his every movement, my chest aching at the sight of him like this.

He looks exhausted-his body slumped, his expression dull.

But what shatters me the most?

The fear in his eyes.

Like he's bracing himself for something.

Like he thinks we're angry.

I reach for his hand, rubbing slow circles over his bruised knuckles. "You're safe, Tae."

His breath catches.

Yoongi sits beside me, and I feel his rage-controlled, but burning.

His fists clench, his jaw tight.

Because someone did this to Taehyung.

Someone hurt him.

And Yoongi is barely holding himself together.

Taehyung hasn't let go of his tea. He just holds it, like the warmth might anchor him.

Then, voice barely above a whisper-
"I'm sorry."