Three In a Bed | got7 x reader

The Pastel Purple Bedspread

"I won't be long," Yugyeom says nervously as he looks down at you.

So you give him the same reply that you've given him all morning: "Gyeom, don't worry." He gives you a small smile and pulls you in for a hug.

"I'm being serious. Do what you've got to do and i'll be here waiting for you when you get back," you reassure him, unsure of what he's scared of.

"Hey man! We've got to get going!" BamBam grumbles from behind you and as you give Yugyeom a comforting smile, you pull away, squeezing his hands before you let go. You are standing in the foyer of Jackson's penthouse apartment because going to the airport with all those reporters around would be too risky.

Walking backwards, you wave at Yugyeom as he is pulled out the door by his best friend. The door slams and silence fills ever corner of the lofty space. You hear footsteps on the floor and turn around to see Jackson but before you can say anything, the main door opens once again and you are spun around to see Yugyeom's shining eyes as he pulls you close and presses a kiss to your forehead.

Just as soon as he came, he was gone and all that was left of him was his departing shout, "Thank you Jackson!"

The chaotic energy that followed Yugyeom was stilled suddenly and it stayed that way as you became increasingly aware of Jackson's eyes on your back. Yet as you turn, he also heads to the kitchen on the right. 

Oh boy, this is going to be fun.

Swallowing any nerves, you follow Jackson's path and go into the kitchen. His back muscles are tense facing you beneath his tank top and you push down the urge to smooth them out with your own hands.

After a few moments of debating what to do, you decide to perch on a stool at the bar and wait for him to turn around. He doesn't for a while but you spend the time watching him, only noticing the sun setting out of the corner of your eye in the floor length windows. 

Then Jackson turns and takes you by surprise by coming to lean across the bar from you, his face mere centimetres from yours.

"I'll show you to your room," he says in his deep voice and as soon as he approached, he backs away and walks around the bar to stand in front of you. You can't deny the beating of your heart as you look up at him, the sunset illuminating the high points of his face and when he takes your hand, you let him.

Walking through his apartment feels oddly intimate and he stops in front of a door.

"My room is across the hall," he points to another door parallel to yours. "Make yourself at home. I had the maid clean everything yesterday so it should be clean..." 

His words trial off and he stands there awkwardly, his palm becoming slightly warm within your grip. 

"Thank you, Jackson," you say simply, not knowing what to say.

He nods in reply and drops your hand, walking away from you, back down the hallway. You turn and grasp the door handle, pushing it open to see a pastel purple bedspread beneath your bags. 

You wonder how Jackson knew you how much you liked the colour. It reminded you of your mother.

At that thought, a pit settles in your stomach but you refuse to dwell on it and get to work unpacking the minimal belongings you brought into the simple Ikea storage spaces. Sat on your bed, you ponder what to do next and hear the television down the hallway. Before you know it, you are trailing down the corridor into the open-plan kitchen and lounge. 

Jackson lies sprawled on the sofa, his eyes fixed on Game of Thrones and you smile softly, padding over to sit beside him. You instinctively curl your legs beneath you but then feel rude and disrespectful doing it in someone else's home but as you go to unfold your limbs, his hand on your knee stops you.

Heat spreads up your thighs and stops in a place you definitely, under no circumstances, absolutely do not want to think about. As if sensing your messy thoughts, Jackson turns his body and smiles at you. He leans back, still keeping his hand connected to your leg, and places his gaze wholly on you.

"Do you like it?" He asks ambiguously. Your heart picks up as you think about all the things he could be referring to. Yes, yes you did like- "The bedspread?"

Coming back down to earth in a flash, you nod and grin, "it's perfect."

"Good."

The silence between you balances on the edge of a knife, comfortable yet electrified.

BOOM.

The program playing on the flatscreen TV reaches it's climax, making you jump out of your skin and Jackson laughs.

"On edge are we?"

"No. Not at all." You clear your throat and try your best to look normal; something that generally doesn't come naturally to you.

A knowing smile peaks Jackson's lips and you urge to kiss it away.

Woah, where did that come from?

"I'm going to bed," you suddenly announce.

"But it's only seven thirty."

"But i'm tired."

"But i've missed you."

You stop in your attempt to remove yourself from beneath his large hand and look at Jackson. Any playfulness that was in his eyes earlier is replaced with sincerity.

You swallow, wanting to break the silence saying, "how was China?"

He sits back and rests his cheek in his palm as he regards you. "China was good. I saw my family briefly..." Sadness fills his eyes as he mentions his family and you hate it. "But it was a good trip; I met some friends, went to the studio, did some interviews and performances so it was very productive."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. And i'm glad you got to spend time with your family, no matter how brief," you say softly and he smiles at you. 

Yugyeom's face fills your headspace and your heart gallops in your chest at the pace of a herd of horses. You stand quickly and confusion enters Jackson's features.

"I'm going to bed," you say and without giving him a chance to protest, you turn and walk away.

"Goodnight."

His voice follows you into your room and you shut the door behind you, catching your breath against it. You push away from the cold surface and gather your toiletries so you can use the bathroom.

You open the door and come face to face with Jackson, whose arm is outstretched as if reaching for the handle. He backs you into the room and pulls the bag with your things in from your tight grip, placing it on the chest of drawers. 

A million times a minute. That's how fast your heart beats as Jackson takes your head in his hand, bring his lips a breath away from yours. 

"I meant what I said. I missed you." You feel his words, unable to hear them over the pumping of blood in your ears.

Weak. You're weak when it comes to Jackson.

It takes every ounce of strength within you, to place your hands over his on either side of your head and gently prise them away. He simply stands there as you gather your things back up, walk around his still form out into the hallway; away from Jackson.