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

Chapter 128: A Glass House

Like something sacred's been crossed even if no one says it out loud.

We're all seated around the dining table now, Gabriel standing at the head, sleeves rolled, sketches fanned across the wood like a dealer laying out cards.

"Okay," he says brightly.

"here's the shelving concept I mentioned-see this corner here? It could support a sunken wraparound for the library wall. Might create a natural reading nook."

Noona leans in to get a better look, fingers skating lightly along the edge of the design.

"That's actually... kind of genius," she murmurs, tucking her knee beneath her.

"I've been thinking of something that blends the vertical lines with something softer."

"Exactly," Gabriel replies.

"Think integrated, but with depth. Like the space folds inward a little."

He smiles as he says it, the kind of smile people use when they already know they're winning.

The kind that lands just a little too close to her mouth when she looks up.

And then it happens.

He reaches out-casual, like he's done it a thousand times-and brushes something from her hair.

"You've got white on you-there."

His fingers linger just long enough to tuck the strand behind her ear.

Gentle. Familiar.
Too familiar.

The kind of touch that slips past comfort and into memory.

The kind of touch you don't do when the person in front of you isn't just yours anymore.

For a second, everything is still.

Tannie's ears twitch first.

Then Hobi hyung's hand slows mid-reach as he instinctively looks down, like even Tan sensed the shift.

At the far side of the room, Tae doesn't speak.

Doesn't blink.
Just... stiffens.

His posture changes, like a violin string pulled taut. His fingers lock around his glass, unmoving.

His eyes-sharp.
Focused.
Unreadable.

I see the flicker pass across his face like shadow across water.

Jin hyung rises next. Wordless.

Just pushes his chair back, slow and silent, and walks into the kitchen.

The kettle clicks on a second later-sharp, final. It sounds louder than it should. Like a verdict.

Yoongi hyung doesn't move. But I can see it in the set of his jaw. The faint flex in his knuckles around his mug.

Like every part of him is holding still on purpose.

Like if he lets even one muscle react, the whole room might come undone.

Hobi hyung glances toward Jin, then toward Yoongi.

No words-just the subtle shift of someone recalibrating.

His smile falters, just slightly.

Wacha leaps from the bench onto the table, landing square in the middle of Gabriel's sketches like she's claiming the space back. Her tail flicks once.

Namjoon hyung, seated at the far end of the table with his tablet resting loosely in his hand, doesn't speak.

But he's watching everything-eyes narrowed just slightly behind his glasses, lips pressed together, mind already running faster than the rest of us.