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

Chapter 92: Every Version of Us

And me? I curled next to Yoongi, watching Tae breathe deep.

Ji Woo smiled.

"Three days," she said softly.

Taehyung nodded. "I know."

"How are you feeling?"

He looked up. His voice didn't shake.

"Strong."

"And scared?"

He didn't even flinch.

"A little. But mostly strong."

Yoongi's thumb brushed over his knuckles.

Jin oppa glanced sideways, warmth tugging at the corner of his mouth.

And Joon?
Namjoon said,

"You've earned that strength, Tae. Every piece of it."

Ji Woo leaned in. "Do you feel ready?"

Tae exhaled, long and slow.

"I used to think they had power over me. That their words were bigger than mine."

He turned to us.

"But now I know mine matter more."

Joon lets out a quiet breath like he was holding it too long.

Yoongi pulled him close, lips pressed to his temple.

"You're not going in there alone."

Jin oppa shifted beside him, resting a hand gently on Tae's back.

"We're with you the whole way."

"And after," I added. "Especially after."

He smiled then-slow, tired, but radiant.
"I believe you."

When we stepped out of Dr. Ji Woo's office, the clouds were slate-gray, the kind that hold back the sky like they're waiting for something to crack.

Fitting, I thought. Because in three days, the storm would break.

Taehyung's hand slid into Joon's as we crossed the street, fingers interlocking like muscle memory. Jin oppa walked on his other side, one hand in his coat pocket, the other ghosting near Taehyung's elbow-just in case.

Yoongi moved to the rear, his presence a quiet shadow of protection, his eyes flicking between the traffic, the sidewalk, and us.

And me? I stayed close enough to reach for them if they needed. Just close enough to remind them-we're still here.

Jungkook's absence was a bruise we didn't speak of.

But it lingered in the pauses, in the way Tae sometimes looked at the sidewalk too long, in the way Namjoon's hand tightened when no one was watching.

Still-our love didn't fracture.

It fortified.
Even cracked, it held.

Three days left.
And then the world would know who Taehyung really was.

Not a victim.
Not someone broken.
But someone powerful.

Someone loved.
Someone who finally-finally-had a voice the world couldn't ignore.

_________________________________

Hoseok's POV

The morning stretches long and pale, light bleeding through the gauzy curtains like soft-spoken promises.

It's one of those rare mornings-no brand shoots, no content deadlines, no calendar screaming for attention.

Just us.

Jungkook is curled against the window...
His eyes aren't reading-they're elsewhere. Floating.

Worry sits in his posture like a coat he forgot how to take off.

I'm across from him on the couch, cradling my second cup of coffee, eyes tracking every small movement he makes.

The quiet sigh when he flips a page just to flip it.

The way he rubs the back of his neck like he's trying to massage the weight of tomorrow away.

I know what tomorrow is.

I've known it from the moment Noona told me.

Taehyung's trial.

His name feels like a bruise under my skin. Tender. Complicated.

It's strange, isn't it? I barely know him.

But with Jungkook rejecting that bond-it hasn't left me.

The silence he wrapped himself in back then has become a haunting echo.

The kind that hums just beneath the sound of your heartbeat.

Jungkook shifts in the window seat, gaze flicking toward the sky. His profile glows in the morning light, so heartbreakingly beautiful it almost knocks the breath out of me.

He looks so far away.
But he's right here.

I get up and move toward him, sitting gently beside him on the cushions.

His head tilts slightly, acknowledging me, but his eyes remain on the horizon.

"You're thinking about him," I say softly.
Jungkook doesn't deny it.

"I'm worried..." he trails off, voice fragile, like he's scared it'll break if he says too much.

"I don't know if he's okay. I don't even know if he wants me there tomorrow."

I reach out, taking his hand.

His fingers tremble as they curl into mine.

"He wants you there," I say.

"Even if he's scared to admit it. You're part of his story, Kook. And tomorrow's a big chapter."

He looks at me then, properly looks at me, eyes wide and cautious.

"And you?" he asks.

"Do you want to come?"

The question is gentle, but it strikes somewhere deep.

Do I want to?

I think about the way Noona's words hung in the air like lanterns-

"They're good people, Hoseok. Their bond-it's rare. Something to be celebrated, not mourned."

I think about the way Jungkook said his name in sleep sometimes with a tenderness that made my heart break.

But mostly, I think about love.

The love I have for Jungkook.
The love he has for them.

The love he's been afraid to believe can stretch wide enough to include more than he was taught to hold.

"Yes," I whisper. "I want to come."

The silence that follows is profound-not empty, but full. Like we're standing on the edge of something new and waiting for the sun to rise.

Jungkook blinks rapidly. "Really?"

I nod, squeezing his hand.

"I think I need to see it. All of it. Him. Them. You. Us."

His face crumples just slightly-like something inside him has unclenched.

"You're sure?" he whispers.

"I'm not sure of anything," I say truthfully, brushing a thumb over his knuckles.

"But I want to trust my heart. And it's telling me not to be afraid anymore."

He pulls me into a hug then, arms tight around my waist, face buried against my neck. I hold him back just as fiercely.

There's no kiss. No grand gesture. Just two people choosing to keep choosing each other, even when it's hard.

Even when it hurts. Even when the road ahead is unmarked and full of questions.

Tomorrow, we'll walk into a courtroom.
Tomorrow, the weight of pain and truth will be laid bare.

And maybe... maybe that's what healing really is.

Choosing each other in the silence.
Over and over.
Until it's not so silent anymore.