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

Chapter 119: Unspoken, Unfolding, Ours 🔥

The cracks in our composure.

The love that had always been soft now hardening at the edges.

Not because she did anything wrong.

But because she did everything right-and we are selfish with it.

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Y/N's POV

Later, the house glows in lamplight and half-burned candles.

The dinner dishes are stacked.
The air smells like tea and garlic.

Rain taps against the windows in a hush-hush rhythm, like the sky's trying to soothe us all to sleep.

Everyone's settled now, more or less.

Tae is curled into Jimin's side under the same fuzzy blanket, drawing invisible shapes on his arm.

Jimin's eyes are closed, head resting back, but his lips twitch with each trace of Tae's finger like it tickles his heart more than his skin.

Kook lies on the floor beside Bam, one hand fisted gently in the dog's fur, the other lazily sketching a profile that looks suspiciously like Yoongi.

Namjoon sits near the window, flicking the label of his tea bottle, eyes unreadable. He hasn't spoken much since the kitchen.

Yoongi is beside me on the couch, shoulder touching mine, quiet and still-so still it's like he's holding himself together by silence alone.

And then there's Gab.

Leaning against the armrest, his tea cradled in his hands. Laughing-again.

About something small.
Something about home.
About Manila.

About our neighborhood's store and the mango tree that dropped fruit into our backyard like offerings.

I laugh with him.
Because I remember.
Because it was funny.

Because once, long ago, when we were kids, I believed nothing would ever change us.

And now, I don't think we can.
Especially when the people I love the most are hurting by it.

They hear me laugh like that and they wonder. Even if they trust me, they wonder.

I feel Yoongi's gaze on me.

I feel Joon's silence stretch long and taut.

Tae has stopped drawing on Jimin's arm. Now he just traces one tiny circle, over and over.

Jin oppa keeps glancing up from his phone. He's not reading. I know he's not.

Kook clutches Bam's paw a little tighter.

And I feel it again-that tension. Like our home has become a house of hearts, all pulsing too close to the flame.

I didn't realize we'd become a house made of heat. Of hearts simmering. Of looks that burned and touches that lingered too long.

And somehow, in the middle of all of it...
The smallest flame was about to start the biggest fire.

Later That Night, We are a pile of limbs and blankets.

Yoongi has his head in Hobi's lap, humming faintly as Hobi runs fingers through his hair.

Jimin and Tae are whispering about something-giggling-every now and then pressing noses like they're sharing a joke too precious for the air.

Kook lies on the rug beside me, drawing lazy patterns on my thigh with his pinky.

Joon is sitting behind me, brushing my hair out gently, braiding small sections like it calms him.