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

Chapter 130: The House That Waited

A long, tight silence stretches before Tae speaks.

“I went to the riverside this morning. Didn’t see him.” His voice is gravel. His eyes stay on the garden.

Jimin rubs the corner of his eyes. “What if he’s not thinking straight?”

“He’s not,” Hobi says, voice barely above a whisper. “He thinks he broke something.”

Jin oppa sighs. “We all did.”

I sip the tea. Swallow around the knot in my throat. “So what now?”

Namjoon finally looks up.

“We split up. He won’t go far without his motorcycle. It’s still at the garage—Hobi and I checked. So he’s walking. That limits his radius. I’ve marked every usual spot: the practice rooms, that 24-hour ramen bar near Sinchon, even his old dorm building.”

Yoongi chimes in.

“I’m checking LoveMap backend again this morning. There was another unusual ping from our group’s perimeter. Could be nothing—but I don’t like the timing.”

Tae turns from the window. “You think it’s connected?”

“I think everything’s connected,” Yoongi says, sharp.

Jimin pushes up from the table. “Then we’re wasting time. Let’s go.”

We divide without arguing.
That alone says everything.

Namjoon and Yoongi head to the office first—Yoongi to run code, Namjoon to keep tabs on pings, movement, anything they can track.

Hobi and Jin oppa take the car and start checking cafes and park corners.

Jimin and Tae go on foot through Myeongdong, down alleyways, through record stores and old haunts.

That leaves me—and Bam.
I don’t ask where we’re going.
I just start walking.

The city is bright, but it feels wrong.
There’s color, motion, chatter—but my body doesn’t absorb any of it.

It’s like I’m passing through it all behind glass.

Bam keeps close, nose to the sidewalk, tail high. He knows the scent we’re following. His ears twitch every time a car passes.

I try not to spiral.

I try not to think about the last thing I said to him.

Or how I didn’t look back.

Or how when I walked away, I didn’t tell him to come find me.

That’s the thing about us.
About me and Jungkook.

We fight. We retreat.
But we always come back.

So where the hell is he?

I pass the riverside and my breath catches.
There’s no one on the bench.
Not even a stray bottle or hoodie.

Just the faintest imprint in the gravel near the edge.

He was here.
I kneel, brushing my fingers over it.

There’s a candy wrapper nearby.
Sour tape. His favorite.

He stayed for a while.
But then he kept moving.

Bam tugs me toward the footbridge.
His pace quickens.

My heart lifts and sinks all at once.

We loop past the bridge, then toward the graffiti wall. There’s a mural half-finished—someone’s been tagging koi fish across the bricks.