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

Chapter 50: To Stay, To Leave, To Want Anyway

It's not just the pull of a soulmate. It's the weight of his restraint.

The battle he's fighting within himself, the way he wants but doesn't allow himself to have.

And suddenly, I ache for him.
For all of us.

__________________

Yoongi is still too quiet and on edge as we move toward the buffet table, filling containers to take home for Taehyung.

"You okay?" I ask gently.

His fingers brush against mine as he hands me a plate, voice lower than usual. "Yeah. Just... thinking."

I step closer, tilting my head. "About?"

Yoongi sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Namjoon."

My heart stutters as I exhale. "It's okay, you know."

Yoongi scoffs lightly. "Is it?"

I slip my fingers through his, squeezing. "It will be."

His shoulders relax just slightly.

And then-I lean up, pressing a soft kiss against his cheek.

He blinks.

I smirk. "Now stop brooding and help me steal desserts for Tae."

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head. "God, I love you."

His words are soft, but they land deep. Warmth spreads through my chest, the weight of the evening momentarily lifting.

"I know," I tease, grinning up at him. "And you're going to prove it by being my accomplice in crime."

Yoongi smirks, but the tension in his shoulders hasn't fully disappeared.

He lets me pull him toward the dessert table anyway, his hand still wrapped around mine, his thumb brushing absently against my skin.

We pile a container with sweets-one, two, three more than we probably should.

Taehyung will whine if we don't bring enough.

He has a bottomless stomach when it comes to pastries, and honestly, watching him eat is half the entertainment.

As we step away from the buffet, I glance back toward where we left Namjoon and Dara.

They're still there.
And so is Mr. Lee.

Dara's expression hasn't changed much-still poised, still professional. But I notice the way her fingers curl around her glass a little too tightly, the way her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes.

Namjoon sits just beside her, his posture deceptively relaxed.

To anyone else, it might seem like he's merely engaging in conversation, but we see the difference.

The sharpness in his gaze. The way his body is angled slightly toward her, almost like a silent buffer between her and Mr. Lee.

Like he's ready to step in at any moment.

Yoongi follows my gaze and exhales, the sound heavy. "She shouldn't have to deal with that."

"She's handling it," I say softly. "Like she always does."

"Doesn't mean she should have to."

Yoongi's jaw tenses again. "And he-"
He doesn't finish the sentence.

But he doesn't have to.
Because I know.

Namjoon wants to step in. I can see it in the way his hand flexes, the way his throat bobs when Mr. Lee says something particularly sharp.

But he doesn't.
Not fully.

Because Namjoon never crosses the invisible line he's drawn for himself.

Even now, when it's obvious-so painfully obvious-that he cares.

I don't even realize I'm holding my breath until I feel Yoongi's hand tighten around mine.

"We should head back," he says, voice quieter now.

I nod, and we turn, making our way toward our table where the rest of the team is waiting. But as we do, I can't help but steal one last glance over my shoulder.

And when I do-
Namjoon is already looking at us.

Our eyes meet.
And for the briefest second-just a flicker of a moment-something in his expression shifts.

Like he wants to reach out. Like he aches to.

But then, just as quickly, he turns away.
And the wall is back up.

Yoongi exhales beside me.
I squeeze his hand.

"It's okay," I whisper again.

And this time, I hope that saying it enough will make it true.