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

Chapter 54.5: The Countdown || Part 2

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DAY 6

Something in me had completely shifted.
Because this wasn't just us spending time together anymore.

This was building something real.

This was trust settling deep into our bones, love weaving itself into the quiet spaces of our days.

This was Namjoon becoming ours.
And god-it was perfect.

We were already late to breakfast before we even left the apartment.

Because Yoongi, Tae, and I had completely underestimated how much Namjoon would melt into us once we let him.

Or, more specifically-
How much we would melt into him.

Because it started with Namjoon showing up with coffee.

Which, in itself, wasn't special-except it was.

Because he knew our orders already. Knew them by heart.

Tae's extra-sweet vanilla latte, Yoongi's black as his soul Americano, and my usual cocoa.

He passed them out without hesitation, without second-guessing himself, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And I-god, I wanted to kiss him for it.
Instead, I just stared.

Tae snorted, watching me. "Noona, you're in love."

I choked. "I am not."

Namjoon raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh?"

I glared at Tae, but he just grinned, smug as ever.

Yoongi sighed, rubbing his temple. "Can we just eat? I refuse to start my day watching you all flirt before I've had food."

Tae giggled, squeezing Namjoon's arm as he leaned into him.

"Hyung," he said sweetly, "you're just mad because you're the most flustered out of all of us."

Yoongi froze mid-sip, his entire body going rigid.

I grinned. "Oh? That's true."

Namjoon, sensing an opportunity, leaned closer to Yoongi, voice dropping an octave.

"You are the most flustered," he murmured.

Yoongi choked on his coffee.
Tae gasped in delight.
And I-I was gone.

The rest of breakfast was filled with giggles and stolen touches, with Namjoon basking in the chaos like he was born for it.

Like he was meant to be here.

The city was alive, buzzing with energy, laughter, life.

Namjoon stood beside me at one point, his gaze locked on a single piece at an art museum-something abstract, something bold, something impossible to look away from.