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

Chapter 130: The House That Waited

Y/N's POV

When I wake, the sunlight is cold.

It pours in like it doesn’t know where to land, pale and pale again, catching on the edge of the curtains and leaking across the hardwood like someone forgot to color it in.

I sit up slowly.
The house is too quiet.

Not silent—but that kind of hush that feels… held. Like something in the walls knows better than to make noise right now.
Bam’s curled near the foot of the bed, but he’s awake.

Ears perked. Head tilted.
Watching me like he already knows today is going to hurt.
And it does.

Just a dull ache in my chest like someone took a piece and didn’t put it back right.

I brush a hand over my face. Swallow the ache down. Listen.

One floorboard creaks in the hallway.
A kettle hums from the kitchen.
And then—nothing.

Still no footsteps.
Still no Jungkook.
It’s been twelve hours.

Twelve hours since he stormed out into the night.

Twelve hours of no calls, no texts, not even a location ping from his watch.

It’s like he vanished into the city.
And it’s not like him. Not really.
Not to stay gone this long.

Especially not without a word.

I pull on a hoodie and jeans, tying my hair back quickly. Bam pads behind me, his nails soft against the wood floor.

By the time I reach the kitchen, everyone’s already half-there.

Jin oppa is at the counter, pouring tea into mismatched mugs with robotic precision.

His eyes are puffy. His cardigan is inside out. He hasn’t noticed.

Namjoon sits at the island, phone in hand, maps and timelines open on the screen.

His fingers are tapping against the marble. Not anxiously. Just… constantly.

Yoongi leans in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes on the ground. His hair is still damp from a shower.

That usually means he didn’t sleep.

Hobi is on the floor with Yeontan again, Tannie draped across his knees like a second heartbeat. He’s not talking.

Just gently rubbing his thumb behind Tan’s ear.

Tae stands by the sliding glass door, one hand braced against the frame, head bowed, staring out at the garden like it might give him an answer.

Jimin is at the table. Still in pajama pants and a hoodie, sketchpad open but untouched. Pencil in hand. Motionless.

No one speaks until Jin oppa sets a mug down in front of me.

Ginger tea. With honey.
I wrap both hands around it.

The heat helps. Not much.
But it anchors me.

I glance around the room. “Still nothing?”

Namjoon doesn’t look up. “I’ve been tracking his watch since 4 a.m. It stopped pinging somewhere near Han River. Then nothing.”

“He turned off his location,” Yoongi mutters.

“Or someone else did,” Namjoon says without looking up.

That pulls the air out of the room.
Because we all know what he’s not saying.

Jungkook wouldn’t shut us out like this unless he was spiraling—or unless someone helped him disappear.