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

Chapter 92: Every Version of Us

He's here now, padding barefoot from the kitchen. Loose sweats, oversized shirt, hair damp from a quick shower.

He carries a bowl of popcorn like we're about to start a movie night.

Like it's any other day.
Like we're okay.

Maybe we are.
Maybe we're trying.
Maybe that's enough.

He drops beside me, body warm, his thigh brushing mine. He doesn't look at me right away-just places the bowl between us, his hand lingering at the rim like he's waiting for me to be the one to reach first.

I don't.
But I lean into his side. Just a little.

His warmth seeps into me.
It always has.

The room is dim, the only light coming from the underglow in the kitchen and the city bleeding through the windows.

It casts Hobi hyung in soft golds and shadows. His jaw, his lashes, the curve of his lips all painted by dusk.

I turn my head slightly, watching him.

He's scrolling through the TV with the remote, pretending to be casual.

But I see the tremble in his fingers.

He's not okay either.
And somehow... that makes me feel less alone.

"You wanna watch something dumb?" he says finally, glancing at me, voice light but eyes unreadable.

"Like what?" I murmur.

He shrugs, a half-smile tugging at his lips. "Reality show. Dating. Maybe someone will get slapped."

I snort softly. "That's your idea of comfort?"

He looks at me, and for the first time tonight, really looks.

His voice softens. "My idea of distraction."

There it is again.

The honesty.
The quiet bravery.

The way he peels himself open just a little, offering me a glimpse of what he's holding inside.

I nod, letting my head rest against his shoulder. I feel him tense for a second, then relax, then lean just a little closer.

The show plays.
We don't really watch it.

Instead, we exist in the space between breaths, between scenes, between everything we've said and not said.

Our bodies close.
Our hearts louder than the dialogue on screen.

After a while, I speak.

"You talked to Ji Woo Noona, didn't you?"

He doesn't answer immediately.

Then, slowly, "Yeah."

I can hear his pulse in that one word.
The weight of it. The struggle.

I sit up, turning slightly toward him.

"Are you okay?"

Hyung's eyes flick to mine.
And for once, he doesn't lie.

"I don't know," he says. "But I'm trying."

There's silence again, but it's different now. Not tense. Not afraid. Just... still.

He turns off the TV.

And then, something unexpected happens.
He reaches for my hand.

Fingers interlacing with mine, so gently, so deliberately, like he's learning how to hold me all over again.