Begged- Jaafar Jackson x Reader
Note: Ok, it seems this is now becoming my new obsession of just getting my maladaptive daydreams out of my system, lol. I haven't even actually heard all of Olivia's new album, but this song has been on repeat since SNL, so, ENJOY :)
Wordcount: ~1k
Nothing was wrong with the night.
Jaafar held your hand as you stepped out of the hotel lobby, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over your knuckles. He opened the car door for you when you arrived at the theater, offering that warm, familiar smile that once made your stomach flutter.
To anyone watching, you looked like the perfect couple.
Yet Jaafar had never felt farther away.
That was the cruel part. You couldn't pinpoint when things had changed. There was no big fight. No betrayal. No single moment you could trace back to and say, there. That's when we lost each other. Selfishly, you wished there would have been.
Instead, the distance had slipped in quietly.
You'd been there for every step of his journey. Endless rehearsals, early morning meetings. Reshoots that stretched long into the night. Dance lessons. Vocal coaching. Interviews.
You'd spent countless restless nights reassuring him when self-doubt crept in. Reminding him that his family would be proud. That you were proud.
And for a long time, that had been enough.
Yet somewhere between his growing career and your own increasingly busy life, conversations began to feel different.
That easy comfort you'd once shared in each other slowly gave way to strained silences.
late at night, lying side by side in bed, you'd search for something to say, only to convince yourself he was tired and needed the rest more than another conversation. The inside jokes that once left you both breathless with laughter now earned little more that a short smile. Even his touch felt different. Not cold or distant, simply missing that spark that once made your heart race.
As his hand rested against the small of your back while guiding you through the crowd, you found yourself mourning something you couldn't quire name.
Earlier that evening, while getting ready together, he'd paused in the doorway of the hotel suite to look at you.
" you look great," he'd said, pressing a quick kiss to your temple.
You'd smiled.
At least, you hoped it looked like a smile.
Before either of you could say anything else, his assistant hurried over to adjust the collar of his jacket, launching into a list of schedule changes and interview lineups for the night.
The moment had dissapeared as quickly as it came.
A voice called your name, pulling you from the memory.
Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Jermajesty and Randy waving you over towards the main stage for the group photo.
You hadn't even realized Jaafar had drifted away from your side.
Lost in your own thoughts, you only snapped back into reality when an overwhelmed assistant gently ushered you forward, desperate to organize everyone before the photographers lost patience.
You slipped into place between Jaafar and his brothers.
The second you settled beside him, his arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you close.
Instinctively, you glanced up at him.
For a small moment, everything felt normal again.
The cameras flashed.
you leaned into him.
He smiled.
And for that single frozen frame, the two of you looked exactly like the couple everyone believed you were.
Later, after the daze and the glamour of the premiere wore off and you returned to the hotel room, you slipped out of your gown and into bed while Jaafar disappeared into the bathroom to wash the day away.
The room was quiet except for the distant hum of traffic far below the hotel windows.
You unlocked your phone.
Photos from the premiere had already flooded your socials.
There you were on the carpet, smiling beneath the flash of cameras. There he was, arm wrapped securely around your waist. Comment after comment poured in beneath the picture.
Power couple.
They're so in love.
The way he looks at her.
Your throat tightened.
The pictures were perfect.
That was the problem.
You stared at them until the images blurred, tears stinging behind your eyes. You blinked hard, willing them away before they could fall.
The bathroom door clicked open.
Jaafar emerged in a t-shirt and sweats, exhaustion etched into every line of his face. He crossed the room and slipped beneath the covers beside you.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
The silence stretched.
Months ago, it would have been filled with laughter, funny anecdotes of something stupid one of his brothers did, some ridiculous joke neither of you would be able to explain to anyone else.
Now it felt like a canyon.
"You okay?" he finally asked.
The question was gentle. Familiar.
And somehow it made your chest ache even more.
You looked over at him.
The man you'd loved for years.
The man who still held doors open for you. Still kissed your forehead before interviews. Still reached for your hand in crowded rooms.
The man who felt miles away.
"Yeah," you lied. A faint smile played its way onto your lips. " Just so proud of you."
His eyes lingered on you for a second, like he knew.
Then he nodded.
" Long day."
You nodded, not trusting your voice to give you away as the lump in your throat felt bigger.
Another silence.
You waited.
For him to ask what was wrong.
For him to pull you closer.
For him to fight through the distance that settled between you both.
But he simply rolled onto his side, facing away as he reached to switch off the lamp.
Darkness swalllowed the room.
And as you stared at his silhouette in the moonligh, it finally hit you.
The relationship was ending because neither of you knew how to reach each other anymore.
Besides you, Jaafar's breathing slowly evened out.
You wondered if he was pretending to be asleep.
You wondered if he felt the distance too.
Most of all, you wondered if he was lying awake, wishing you would be the one to say something first.
That thought hurt worst of all.
