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

Chapter 78: Breathless Confessions

He's watching me too, his eyes lingering just a second too long before he turns back to the stove.

My stomach tightens, but not in a way that alarms me. It's familiar, natural. It's just Jin.

Clearing my throat, I focus back on the pork. "You know," I start, trying to lighten the mood, "we should've filmed our training sessions. I think we made more disasters than actual food."

Jin hyung groans dramatically, covering his face.

"Don't remind me. The first time we tried to make pancit malabon, we overcooked the noodles so badly they turned into a mushy crime scene."

I snicker. "And the lechon? We almost burned your oven."

Jin hyung gasps, pointing at me in mock offense. "Excuse you, that was your fault. You set the temperature too high!"

"Okay, maybe. But you were the one who panicked and flung water on it like an idiot," I remind him.

He pouts, crossing his arms. "I was trying to save our Christmas dinner!"

I laugh, shaking my head. "And instead, you nearly turned your kitchen into a sauna."

Hyung grumbles under his breath, but there's a smile playing at his lips. He leans in slightly, resting his chin on my shoulder.

The move is so natural, so easy, that I barely react-except for the way my hands still for just a second.

His warmth seeps into me, and I have to focus on not leaning back into him.

"You know," he says softly, "I love this. Just us. Cooking, talking... It's nice."

I swallow, my hands pausing in their movements. "Yeah," I admit. "It is."

Silence stretches between us, but it's not awkward. It's filled with something unspoken, something warm.

But there's no rush, no urgency to define it. Jin and I-we've always been close. Affectionate. Loving.

Then Jin hyung suddenly straightens, clapping his hands.

"Okay, enough sentimentality. We have a feast to finish! What's next?"

I huff a laugh, shaking off whatever had settled in my chest. "We still need to finish the japchae. Grab the sesame oil."

Hyung does as I ask, moving beside me again.

As we work, we continue our playful banter-laughing about past kitchen disasters, reminiscing about how our soulmates would react to the feast, and teasing each other in ways that make my heart feel light.

Somewhere in the middle of it all, I realize something.

This-cooking with Jin hyung, laughing, teasing, existing in this easy, affectionate space with him-this has always felt right.

And I don't mind if it stays that way forever.

The kitchen smells like warmth, like home.

The kind of home that isn't built from walls or rooftops but from laughter, from shared effort, from hands brushing against each other as we move around the space.

Hyung and I work in sync as we store away the food we've prepared, ensuring everything stays fresh for tonight.

The galbi-jjim, japchae, and tteokguk are tucked neatly into containers, ready to be reheated.

The pancit malabon with its toppings and sauce in separate containers, ready to be mixed and presented.

The lechon belly-our final masterpiece-rests on the counter, prepped and waiting for its moment in the oven. An hour before dinner, we'll finish cooking it, letting the skin turn perfectly crispy, the meat inside tender and bursting with flavor.