It was one lazy early morning of December when Taehyung realizes he's keeping a secret from his platonic soulmate, best friend, the one and only cinnamon roll of his life, Park Jimin.
Jimin found himself being cuddled by his still sleepy best friend on their tiny couch, Phineas and Ferb running on their television. It's cramped; definitely not an ideal place for two grown men to cuddle, and their limbs are all tangled together one would seriously have a hard time deciphering whose leg who. But the weather has been so cold and keeps getting colder every passing day, freezing his fingers and feet and nose. So Jimin honestly doesn't mind the very small space and even snuggled a tad bit closer to the other if it means extra body warmth.
He has his head tucked under Taehyung's chin – dark brown strands tickling the other's skin – and is pillowed on the purple head's arm who's constantly releasing big yawns every other minute. Jimin smiles softly at that, fond at the domesticity, reaching for the plate of pancakes balanced on his hip, supporting by Taehyung's large hand that was wrapped around his middle.
Their relationship has been platonic since the very first day they have known each other; comfortable that is more than best friends, a little bit more than brothers but not enough to be put in a romantic relationship way. And seriously, Jimin's too used to this kind of affection he has been constantly receiving from the purple head and vice versa and there's no doubt he will be damned if ever comes one day that he's not allowed to do this anymore.
Jimin unknowingly pouts at his own realization; Taehyung pinching his lips like a duck.
"Yah!" Jimin swats the other's gigantic hand with a not-so-intimidating glare.
"What are you pouting at?" asks the purple head, totally unaffected by the obviously no bites glare and tone – who shuffles to pull the shorter boy against him a little bit closer. And maybe, to subtly adjust his arm that's slightly starting to fell asleep. Seriously, how much does Jimin's head weigh? (Oi, wholesome).
Instead of answering though, Jimin just stares at his best friend. Watching how Taehyung struggles to open his eyes back after a long yawn while contemplating whether to open a topic about their private lives. If it's okay to try to touch a part that is more private than they'd already know about each other. Like relationships... in a romantic way. Like those feelings that no one knows except themselves, at least for now.
Taehyung, who noticed Jimin's action, stopped in his mid-yawn, looking down to stare back at the shorter boy with eyebrows slowly knitting in utter confusion.
"What?" he asks; blinking lazily. He's still too sleepy and classes don't even start until after lunch but Jimin wants cuddles. ("We can do it here on bed, Jiminnie. Come on." "No. I want cuddles while watching something. Get up, Taetae. I'm getting cold.") Inwardly groaning at the memories.
"Hmm," hums Jimin who squints at Taehyung, trying to backpedal because, no, what if Taehyung asked him about Yoongi and him and no no no no.
Taehyung squints back. "Jimin."
"Okay." Jimin sighs softly, shuffling to prop himself in a sort of sitting position on the couch, reaching for the plate to place it on the coffee table and accidentally elbowing Taehyung's stomach who grunts and huffs. "Sorry."
"Whatever, clumsy." ("Hey!") Taehyung rolls his eyes.
Jimin carefully placed Taehyung's head onto his lap instead, the boy pushing his face onto his stomach automatically.
"So, spit it," Taehyung added, words muffled by Jimin's baby blue flannel pyjama tops, sighing at the warmth.
"I might actually spit on your face, beware." Jimin chuckles at his own words. Taehyung completely ignored him though. "So..."
