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

Chapter 121: Like Stars, We Remember

They're whispering to each other.
I catch pieces.

"They're nervous," Jin oppa murmurs.

Joon kisses the side of his head. "They'll be brilliant."

Across from me, the real stars of the night are nestled together like gravity drew them into the same small patch of floor space and refused to let go.

Jimin is curled against Tae, knees tucked to his chest, fingers absently playing with the hem of Tae's oversized cardigan.

Tae's head rests on Jimin's shoulder, his eyes closed, chest rising and falling like he's pretending not to buzz with nervous energy.

Jungkook sits on one side of them, thigh pressed tightly to Tae's.

Hobi's on the other, arm curled protectively behind Jimin's back.

And somehow, despite the close quarters, it's not cluttered.
It's intimate. Anchored.

Each of them layered with history and affection and a language built over glances and touches and teasing that borders on devotion.

Kook is chewing on a Twizzler like it's the most important task of the evening, but his eyes keep flicking over to Tae and Jimin with a kind of fierce tenderness I've only ever seen when he's gaming or holding Hobi's hand in public.

Hobi-gorgeous, radiant, unreadable-just sits still. Watching. Waiting.

Until Jimin leans into him slightly, and his hand moves, almost instinctively, to stroke Jimin's back.

God, they're beautiful.
All of them.

I feel a light tap against my knee.
Wacha.

She hops up into my lap like she owns me-which she does-and promptly stretches herself full-length across my thighs, head on my stomach like a purring seatbelt.

Her ears flick slightly, eyes half-closed but still on the room like she's tracking everyone's positions like a tiny surveillance drone.

"Jealous?" I murmur to Yoongi.

"Only of the cat," he replies, dry.

Tannie, meanwhile, is nuzzled into the inside of Tae's hoodie. He occasionally peeks his snout out to sneeze dramatically, like he's allergic to art.

Bam is the calmest of us all. Sprawled out under the coffee table, nose between his paws, his breathing deep and rhythmic.

Occasionally, one ear twitches when someone moves too loudly or the playlist drifts into a dramatic crescendo.

There's something about these moments-where all of us are here, together, sharing breath and space and warmth-that makes me ache in a way that's good.

Like I'm finally full.
Finally still.

Gab's absence lingers, but less sharp now.

His conference has him on the other side of Korea, and while I miss the friendship we had before everything cracked open-I can feel the difference in the house without him.

The tension's softened.

The looks don't linger quite so long.

The silence isn't as tight around the edges.

Joonie still watches me sometimes when I talk about Gab, his expression unreadable, like he's trying to sort out what part of my past I still live in.

But I'm here now.
I chose to be here.
With them.

I look around again. Take them in.

Yoongi's quiet strength.

Jin oppa's steady calm.