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

Chapter 130: The House That Waited

Worthy of her.

My heartbeat taps like a clock starting again.

It’s time.

The living room is quiet when I walk in.

That hush that only lives in places too full of emotion to speak. Like the room itself is trying to be gentle with me.

They're all there. Except her.

Joon hyung sits curled into the corner of the couch, journal still open on his lap like he’d been trying to write the ache out of him.

He looks up, and there’s so much weight behind his eyes—but not anger. Just relief, stretched too thin.

Yoongi hyung leans against the armrest, hoodie rumpled, arms crossed.

But his gaze is soft. Steady.
Forgiveness disguised as indifference.

Hobi hyung’s perched on the floor with Tannie nestled in his lap, one hand absently stroking Tan’s fur like it’s keeping him anchored.

Taehyung hyung’s on the ottoman, elbows on knees, head bowed.

Jimin hyung stands behind him, hand on his shoulder, the both of them rising slowly when they see me.

Jin hyung’s the one who moves first—quietly placing a mug on the table in front of me.

Warm. Familiar. Ginger tea, maybe.

His eyes are pink, but his voice is even when he says, “You clean up alright.”

And then I break.
Tears spill before I can stop them.

They fall quiet, no sobs this time. Just the steady unraveling of four days of silence, guilt, longing.

I close my eyes. Let it come.
Let myself be seen.

Then Yoongi  hyung clears his throat, voice gruff but not unkind.

“We’ll talk about everything later.” He watches me, expression unreadable, and adds with a pinch of dry humor,

“But just know—if you ever make her cry like that again, you and I are sparring.”

My chest tightens.

Tae hyung nudges me lightly. “She’s waiting.”

Jimin hyung grins, soft and small. “You know where.”

Hobi hyung nods, thumb tapping his knee. “The swing. Your tree.”

Of course.
I know it before they even finish the sentence.

Like it’s etched in my DNA.

That spot beneath the branches, where the wind always feels a little warmer, like it remembers something sacred happened there.

I nod. And I go.

The house hums quietly behind me as I step into the backyard.

The cold air greets me like an old friend—crisp, but gentle. It smells like autumn. Like leaves. Like new beginnings.

Lantern light flickers soft and golden from the base of the tree.

And there she is.
Y/N noona.

Sitting on the swing, legs drawn up, cardigan sleeves pushed over her hands.

Her hair catches the light in soft waves, face illuminated like the scene was painted just for me.

The moment I see her, something in my chest soars.

My lungs forget how to hold air.

God, she’s beautiful.

Not in the way people say when they mean polished or perfect.

But in the way the moon is beautiful—quiet, steady, constant. And always there, even when hidden.

She looks up when she hears my steps.
A smile curves through her tears.

“You found me,” she says, a little tease in her voice—but her voice trembles like her heart is breaking open.

That undoes me.

“Always,” I whisper.

I walk toward her slowly.

Not because I’m afraid, but because I want to memorize the way she looks in this light.

The way her sadness still glows.
The way the breeze lifts the ends of her hair like even the wind is glad to see her.

She shifts to make space beside her.
I sit. And everything in me exhales.

The swing creaks beneath our combined weight. The chain hums as it sways.

I turn to her.

“I missed you,” I say, voice barely holding steady. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t run.
Instead, she smiles through tears and says softly,

“Thank you for coming back.”

And I fall in love again.
Not like the first time, not like the hundred times after.

This is the kind of love that survives distance.

That doesn’t care about the bruises.
That waits in silence, with arms open.

She reaches out and takes my hand.
Her fingers are warm.

“We all hoped you would come back to us,” she whispers, voice like moonlight.

“And you did.”

From the glass doors, I catch the faint silhouettes of my hyungs still watching us.

They don’t move to interrupt. They just watch like guardians of something holy.

Yoongi hyung meets my gaze.
And with the smallest nod, he says:

“We’ll handle the anomaly. You and I, later.”
I nod back.

Tae hyung and Jimin hyunh link pinkies behind him.

Hobi hyung wipes something from the corner of his eye.

They slip away quietly.

And now, it’s just her and me.
The night breathes around us.
The lantern flickers once. Twice.

The swing drifts gently beneath the branches that once held our promises.

She leans her head on my shoulder.
I close my eyes.

And for the first time in days—
I feel whole.

Because no matter how far I wandered, how badly I broke—She waited. They all did.

And I'm found.