It's not enough, Chanyeol thinks when Baekhyun tiptoes around their bedroom in the wee hours of the morning when Baekhyun comes home late after his agenda. At times like this, he lays awake in his bed, tracing the hairline cracks along the wall until they end or continue off to places or corners that his hands can't reach. He anticipates the faint and steady ticking of the clock in their room, and he waits. Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock. Chanyeol shuts his eyes just in time as he hears the doorknob turn.

It's not enough, Chanyeol thinks  when Baekhyun's riding him with his nimble fingers curled around his shoulders. Gripping aggressively one moment; circling teasingly, on another. It's an event when they reach their zenith together; it's blinding and scorching, then suddenly it's not. Chanyeol feels Baekhyun lean against his chest, his lips falling to place under his collarbones, his eyelashes giving away innocent butterfly kisses. It's a ticklish sensation, an addition to the tips of Baekhyun's hair that are soft against his skin. He feels Baekhyun's ragged breaths, mixing with his own. They breathe in their own enclosed world of limbs and sweat. Chanyeol hides his face in Baekhyun's soft locks.

It's not enough, Chanyeol thinks when he watches Baekhyun flutter his eyes open to see him leave in the early mornings during their separate schedules. Sometimes he waits for something to happen, a miracle perhaps. He lingers around the doorway for a minute, allowing Baekhyun to watch him for a few moments. He observes him push the covers off of his body timidly, swinging his feet to the side of his bed. He looks on as Baekhyun palms his bed hair, disheveling it. He looks natural like this, aesthetic, even, the pristine morning sun washing over him. Chanyeol leaves after he realizes he's been staring.

It's not enough, Chanyeol thinks when Baekhyun automatically seats himself beside him during fansign events. It reminds him of their close proximity. They sit a long duration of time, interacting with people in front of them, unable to freely do so with those beside them. He glances at the fanservice Baekhyun gives out, especially when the attention he craves for so much is directed to a fanboy with eyes twinkling, staring at Baekhyun. Chanyeol interrupts them using his endearing charms and good humor.

It's not enough, Chanyeol thinks when Baekhyun scoots to give him an ample amount of space. On late nights like this, when he goes home late from his own shootings and whatnots, there is something that unravels from the pits of his being — a need, a want, a craving for something wholesome and unadulturated, Chanyeol concludes. He sleeps beside Baekhyun during these urges; as if the distance to his bed was something so difficult to surmount. Chanyeol slides underneath the warm covers with Baekhyun's body heat mingling with his own.

But when Baekhyun presses a kiss to Chanyeol's forehead when he tiptoes to his side of the room, before he whispers, "I know you're awake,": it's enough. Chanyeol keeps his eyes shut until he hears Baekhyun tuck himself in for the rest of the night, then he touches the spot on his forehead, the ghost of Baekhyun's lips lingering.

But when Baekhyun clips his arms around his neck, still slick from sweat, before he looks up at Chanyeol straight in the eyes: it's enough. They both relish in the high of fulfilling the desires of their skin, of their heat, of their pent-up frustration. It lasts for a split second, then Baekhyun's cradling his head against the curve of Chanyeol's shoulder and neck.

But when Baekhyun peeks at him from between the strands of his hair, still unruly from the friction with his pillow and Chanyeol can almost see his pupils dilate: it's enough. A comfortable silence settles over them, then Baekhyun is seated now, greeting him with a "Good morning, Yeol," using a voice husky from drowsiness, before letting out a satisfied yawn.

But when Baekhyun goes along with Chanyeol's spontaneous jokes, even teasing him good-naturedly: "You're stealing my fan,": it's enough. Chanyeol breathes a sigh of relief that he didn't even know he was holding until he lets it out. They goof around with the fanboy until it's his time to leave, then Chanyeol smiles to himself, praising himself in the process.

But when Baekhyun adjusts to him beneath the comfort of the sheets, subconsciously tangling his legs with limbs significantly longer than his: it's enough. Chanyeol takes it as a chance to shift closer to the smaller male, then after awhile, Baekhyun is in his arms.

But when Baekhyun does all of these little things, it's enough, Chanyeol thinks. It's okay, he tells himself and he believes it, because it is. He carouses in these clandestine moments that they share, and yet there are secrets Chanyeol buries in them: a secret in a secret, if one may.

Chanyeol doesn't let Baekhyun know that he pretends to be asleep, just because he's waiting for Baekhyun to come home (to him). Chanyeol doesn't let Baekhyun know that he's smiling against his hair and sniffing his shampoo with the imperceptible tang of his sweat, just because he's giddy and happy. Chanyeol doesn't let Baekhyun know that he burns his image of him looking like that in his eyes, in his memory — which is why he stares before leaving, just because it's a different kind of beautiful along with the tinge of the sunrise. Chanyeol doesn't let Baekhyun know that he's interjects on purpose in his interactions with fanboys, just because he doesn't like the feeling of being jealous. Chanyeol doesn't let Baekhyun know that it's actually him that he needs, that he wants, that he craves for, just because he doesn't want to admit it.

Chanyeol doesn't let Baekhyun know that he actually loves him, just because he's certain that Baekhyun must know already from all the little things Chanyeol does as well.