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

Chapter 117: Versions of A Home

The light brush of his hand at the small of her back. Innocent. Casual.
And yet.

I wasn't the only one who noticed.
Jungkook's gaze locked in like a sniper's. His jaw clenched.

Bam, who'd been lounging near the kitchen threshold, stood up and slowly ambled over-then parked himself directly between Kook and Gab, like a personal wall of fur and loyalty.

I walked over and gave him a quick scratch behind the ears. "Good boy," I muttered.

_______________________

Dinner was simple-ramyeon and soju and a stack of side dishes Yoongi had whipped up in between scoffing at Gab's design sketches like they personally insulted his aesthetic sensibilities.

We ate together on the deck, lights strung above us and the sound of cicadas pulsing in the distance.

Gab sat across from Y/N, animatedly pointing to a blueprint while she sipped from her glass and nodded, clearly engaged.

Hobi, seated beside me, was quieter than usual. Not sad. Not upset. Just... watching.

He leaned forward eventually, asking Gab about load-bearing capacity and lighting angles, nodding in all the right places.

Y/N caught it.

I saw her smile soften when Hobi spoke, her fingers brushing his thigh under the table.

He turned to look at her, just for a moment,
and whatever he saw made him smile back, small and real.

Across the table, Taehyung hadn't said much. Not a single jab or dramatic flourish.

He just sat there, hand absently petting Wacha, who was curled like a cinnamon roll in his lap.

But his eyes-never left Gab.

Like he was sketching him from memory, every movement, every expression, every angle.

Jimin was quiet too. But his eyes narrowed slightly anytime Gab and Y/N laughed too long at something the rest of us weren't in on.

Yoongi, bless his moody little heart, actually made an effort.

He passed Gab the chili oil and said something about drywall anchors, but his tone was flat and his posture was half-draped protectiveness over Y/N's chair.

And me?
I was doing okay.

I was laughing when I needed to.
Nodding when I should.

Keeping my hands occupied with slicing the egg rolls so I wouldn't throw a chopstick like a dart.

It was fine. Everything was fine.

Until Jungkook dropped a glass in the kitchen.

It wasn't loud. Just a soft crash and the sound of ceramic splitting on tile.