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

CHAPTER 129: An Empty Tree

“I know why you did it,” I say quietly.

A breath. I can feel every soul in the room leaning in, hearts braced.

“And I know your heart. All of you. I understand that you’re scared, and I know how uncomfortable you have all been. I do.”

My voice wobbles. I hate it. I hate how it makes me sound like I’m breaking, but maybe I am. Maybe we all are.

“But this wasn’t the way.”

Kookie nods slowly, as if the weight of those words were already written on his skin.

“I’ve been asking you. All of you. But especially you, Kook. To talk to me. To let me in. Every time something felt off, every time my closeness with Gabriel made you uncomfortable, I asked. And you said nothing.”

His head bows. His shoulders rise, then fall. I can see it—the regret.

But more than that…

“You made him your target.”

A flicker in the corner of his mouth.
Hurt. Shame.

“You kept it to yourself. Let it fester. Let it eat at you until it turned into this.”

I glance toward the blood still staining the edge of the blueprint.

“And now someone’s hurt. The tension in this house is ten times worse. And all of that could’ve been avoided if you just talked to me.”

No one dares speak. Not even Jimin, who always has something smart to say. He just sits there, watching with something unreadable on his face. Soft, pained.

“I’m not angry that you felt something. I’m angry that you didn’t trust me enough to say it before it boiled over.”

Jungkook’s chest rises, and for the first time, I think I see it. Not just guilt.

Consequence.

I turn toward all of them now.
Each one.

Letting my eyes find them, Joonie with his brow furrowed, always strategizing. Tae, arms folded tight, eyes burning. Hobi and Jimin, swallowing emotions like a bitter pill. Jin oppa, watching me like someone he’d protect until the world fell apart.

Yoongi, silent.
So, so silent.

His phone now rests on the counter. Locked. Face down.

But his shoulders? They’ve slumped slightly. His fingers? Stilled.

This moment doesn’t just belong to me. It lives in the floorboards. In their silence. In the breath no one takes.

“I’m at fault too.”

My voice comes out steadier than I expected—but it cracks at the edges, like glass starting to split.

Jin oppa shifts.

He doesn't speak, but his shoulders slope like he's been holding a breath for hours and finally exhales.

His eyes flick to mine, full of something too big for words.

Jimin’s mouth parts, a soft “Noona…” almost escapes. But he doesn’t say more.

His brows knit together, gaze cast low, like he’s trying to find an apology in the grain of the table. I see his guilt before he even tries to speak.

“I should’ve said something,” Hobi mutters quietly, fingers running through his hair.

“The tension, the side comments—we all knew it was building.” He looks up, eyes red-rimmed but clear.