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

Chapter 90: A Lantern in the Dark

Namjoon's POV

The door hadn't even fully closed before I was already pulling on my shoes.

"Tae!" I shouted, but my voice hit nothing but the silence of the stairwell.

Gone.

I didn't stop to grab my coat, didn't ask Jin if I should go. We all knew someone had to.

And maybe it had to be me-because Taehyung always listened to me... didn't he?

I took the stairs two at a time.

The city outside was cold and loud, headlights dragging shadows across wet pavement like ghosts on a reel of film.

I turned in the direction I figured he'd go-not toward the station or anywhere crowded.

Tae never liked being seen when he cried.

I thought about the park a few blocks down. The one with the crooked bench near the basketball court.

I started jogging.

Each step echoed with the sound of that fight in my head.

"You didn't even care."
"Don't you dare accuse us."
"I needed to know I wasn't the only one."

And Yoongi's voice-Yoongi's shout-still clanged inside my chest like a dropped cymbal.

He never raised his voice like that.
Not unless he was cornered.
And tonight? Tae had cornered us all.

But god... we were all hurting.

My breath fogged in front of me as I reached the park.

Empty swings creaked in the wind. Streetlights buzzed overhead.
And then I saw him.

Curled on the crooked bench, hoodie pulled over his head, Yeontan in his lap-he must've chased after him.

His knees were pulled to his chest. Shoulders hunched.

And even from here,
I could see he was crying.

The kind of crying you do when your chest caves in. When it stops sounding like crying and starts sounding like breaking.
I approached slowly.

"Cub..."

He looked up, startled-but not really surprised. His eyes were red, cheeks wet, lips trembling.

"Joon hyung..."

I sat down beside him, close enough for him to feel me, but not enough to touch. Not yet. Not until he asked.

Yeontan gave a soft whimper and nestled tighter into his lap. Tae's fingers curled protectively over his tiny back.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"God-I'm so sorry."

I didn't say anything.
Just let him talk.
Let him spill.

"I didn't mean to say those things," he continued, voice hoarse.