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

CHAPTER 129: An Empty Tree

Probably something about the system breach they were talking about.
Something more important than me.
Something bigger than all of this.

But I don’t go back.

Because some doors, once they shut?
You don’t reopen them.

And as I take one last glance at the glow behind me, the laughter gone, the tension still thick, the kind of love that doesn’t let go even when it hurts, I feel it in my chest.

Something final.
Something freeing.

“I wasn’t part of this home,” I murmur.

“Not really. But I’m grateful I got to see what one looked like.”

Benji doesn't speak.
Just squeezes my shoulder once more.

I exhale.
And step into the dark.

____________________________

Y/N’s POV

The door closes behind Gab with a hush.
Not a slam. Not a bang. Just… a hush.
And yet, somehow, it feels deafening.

The silence it leaves behind is heavy.

Not still—never still—but pulsing, like the house is holding its breath.

Like everyone is waiting for the next fault line to crack open.

Wacha’s tail flicks once against the table leg, the only sound in the room for too long.

Her ears twitch toward me, sensing everything before I say anything.

She always does.

Bam lays his chin over Jungkook’s foot, warm and solid, but even he seems uncertain—his eyes dart from face to face, nose twitching.

Yeontan shifts in Hobi’s lap, head tucked just beneath his arm, like even the smallest dog knows when a storm has hit and we’re all pretending it didn’t.

I look at all of them.

Their faces. Their shoulders.
The weight each of them is carrying now, differently.

Some with guilt. Some with rage.
Some with nothing but confusion.
But all of them—all of them—silent.

Until I speak.

“Kook didn’t do this alone.”

My voice cuts through like wind across still water. They all turn toward me.

Kook’s head lifts first.
His eyes—wrecked. Shaking. Silent.

“All of you watching, whispering, side-eyes, half-jokes, you let it fester.”

Joon flinches.

Tae’s jaw tightens, guilt tightening around his mouth.

Hobi looks away first. His hand instinctively stroking Yeontan, like he’s trying to soothe someone—anyone.

Jin oppa exhales slowly, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Aein…”

“No,” I say gently, holding up a hand.

“Let me say it, oppa.”

I stand, slowly. My knees feel weak, but the kind of weak that comes from holding back too much for too long.

I curl my fingers into the side of the chair and look at him.

“Kook.”

His eyes meet mine and everything in them shatters.