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

Chapter 130: The House That Waited

Hobi’s pacing the hallway, Yeontan padding behind him like a small storm cloud trying to keep up.

Tae is at the kitchen sink, rinsing dishes that aren’t even dirty. His sleeves are rolled up. Water drips from his hands into the basin like it’s the only sound that’s allowed to exist.

Jimin lies on the floor, head resting in Hobi’s oversized hoodie that still smells like him.

His sketchpad is by his side, open to a half-finished piece of the koi wall I found on day two. The lines are light, tentative.

And Jin oppa stands behind the kitchen island, chopping vegetables for a meal no one asked for. He hasn’t said much today.

But every slice is deliberate, like his hands are doing the grieving for him.

“I think we should talk about it,” Jimin says softly, not lifting his head.

The room doesn’t respond at first.

Wacha whines once, then curls into a tighter ball on the hallway rug.

Yoongi finally blinks, but doesn’t stop typing. “Talk about what?”

“This.” Jimin waves a hand vaguely toward the whole house.

“Us. How we’re... unraveling.”

“We’re not unraveling,” Jin oppa says automatically, without looking up.

“We are,” Hobi counters gently, appearing beside the fridge. “It’s okay to say it.”

Namjoon closes his journal slowly. He exhales, long and hollow.

“We’ve been pretending like we’re just... waiting. But we’re not. We’re breaking apart in slow motion.”

Tae turns off the tap. His voice is quiet. “We’re grieving him like he’s gone.”

Yoongi’s hands still on the keyboard.
“And we don’t even know if he’s choosing to be.”

I flinch.
No one misses it.
But no one calls it out either.

Because we all feel it—this ache, this shadow. The way Jungkook’s absence has rearranged the gravity of this house.

“I keep thinking,” I whisper, “that I should’ve gone after him. That night.”

“You gave him space,” Hobi says, crouching beside me. His hand covers mine.

“You gave all of us space. That’s not a crime.”

“But maybe I should’ve closed it,” I say, voice barely above a breath.

“The distance. The door. Just… done something more.”

Jin oppa sets down his knife. Walks around the island.

“You were brave, Aein,” he says, sitting across from me.

“And sometimes, loving someone means letting them choose. Even if it hurts.”

“But what if he’s not choosing?” Jimin whispers. “What if someone made that choice for him?”

The room tightens again. We’ve danced around it all week.

The LoveMap breach.
The wrong IP address.
The sudden changes in Kook’s profile even when his phone was off.

Yoongi breaks the tension with a low mutter.

“The ping pattern from that subnet—it’s deliberate. Too clean to be random. And it mimics our regional signal… like it wants to be mistaken for home.”