Three In a Bed | got7 x reader

Heart to Heart

The eight of you arrive back at the hotel, clothes dry and crusty with sea water, skin sun-kissed.

You haven't stopped smiling.

The nerves you felt about the shoot dissipated when you realised there was not another group of people you'd rather share that experience with. 

"Let's hit the showers and meet for a drink in the bar." Jaebum, the natural leader of the group, instructs.

You mime a salute to him and he rolls his eyes ruffling your hair as he passes you from where you are holding the car door open for him. Following the seven men inside, you notice the hoards of well-dressed people stood inside the lobby, taking in the evening sun.

Ignoring them, you start for the elevator until a poster catches your eye.

Your dad stands in front of a podium, hair combed back nicely, looking every part the governor of the town. He must be holding an event for the chairs of the committee. You remember attending with him, your mum on one of his arms and you on the other.

Scanning the poster you make a mental note to not go to the second floor ballroom, the room you were in with Jackson only a few nights ago, as he's holding his event in there.

"Who is he?" Youngjae makes you jump as he speaks from your side.

"I have no idea." The lie comes easily and you don't have to look at Youngjae's face to know that he bought it.

"He looks like a douche." Youngjae comments and your lips tilt up. You have no idea, you say in your head. "Come on, you stink of sea water."

You swat him on the shoulder and follow him towards the waiting elevator.

They hadn't left without you.

Nestled in between Jackson and Mark, your mind wanders as you sail up the building.

The doors open and you are first to get out on your floor. You walk to the room you share with Jackson and notice him right behind you. He leans past you to unlock the door and you walk inside, heading straight towards the bathroom, grabbing some clothes on the way.

Before you shut the door, you take a look at Jackson. He sits on his bed, looking at his phone, brow furrowed. You clamp your lips together and shut the door.

Washing your hair and sweeping a pomegranate soap bar over your skin, you emerge feeling like a different person.

You get dressed again and open the door. 

Jackson is bent over his bag, placing items into it and a wave of panic washes over you.

"Where are you going?" You ask, trying not to let your anxiety filter into your words.

He looks up and smiles, gliding his eyes over you in a once-over.

"I'm leaving tomorrow. Remember?"

Oh.

You forgot.

Your stomach twists into knots as he turns back around and begins placing his extensive shoe collection into his bag.

An excuse as to why he can't leave bubbles inside you but you can't hold onto it before it disappears and you're searching for the words to say.

So you settle with walking over your bed and flopping down onto the duvet, feeling every part of you fall.

"I used to hate coming to hotels." The words come naturally and you stare at the ceiling, not expecting a reply.

"Why?" Jackson says.

"Because I was told to stay in my room and not come out unless I was needed. A.K.A. my dad is with some businessman wanting to by land from him and my mum is in the bar, drinking her pain away." The memories come back to you, doors opening wide in your mind and refusing to close. 

You feel the mattress dip move onto your side, looking at Jackson as he perches on the edge of the bed, looking down at you. "What about now? Do you still hate hotels?"

You think about this, the last few days and him before answering.

"I think i've actually felt more at home here than I have in my own house," you admit, wanting to take the words back as soon as they leave your mouth. 

Jackson smiles sadly at you and you avert your eyes from his, feeling overwhelmed by the sympathy in his gaze. 

You need to change the subject.

"Enough about me. Tell me about you. How was it growing up in the Wang household? What antics did baby Jackson get up to?" Jackson's eyebrows raise in surprise at your question. "I bet you were a bed wetter." 

"I was not." He comes to life, a grumpy expression crossing his face. 

His expression is amusing and you can't help but laugh at the images of a tiny Jackson Wang rapping in his baby chair.

"What?" Confusion crosses his face at your giggling.

"Never mind."

"Tell me."

"No. It's okay."

That's when he starts tickling your ribs until somehow he ends up lying next to you on the bed.

As you both breathe heavily, trying to recover from a hardcore tickling tournament, he starts to speak. Jackson opens up about growing up in China with multilingual parents and a bossy older brother.

When he finishes, you turn onto your side once again, studying his side profile. "Do you miss them?"

You watch his brow furrow as he thinks before he turns to face you. "Yes. But then I remember all the things i've gained and what I can provide for them. That makes me happy."

"I bet they're proud of you," you say, looking into his eyes.

Holding your gaze, he says, "I hope so."

A knock on the door draws your eyes away from his and you get up to answer the door because Jackson makes no move to do the same. Instead he watches you as you move around the bed.

Mark stands outside the door. "We're heading out for something to eat. Are you coming?"

You nod and enter back into the room, leaving the door open so Mark can follow. 

Jackson has removed himself off your bed and is shrugging on his jacket. You make your way over to where to abandoned your own when Jackson reaches it first, handing it to you. In the heartbeat your fingers meet, a million tingles run down your arm and butterflies take flight in your chest. 

Putting the piece of clothing over your shoulders you turn to face Mark, hyperaware of Jackson.

"Let's go."