Silence was how Suho and Lay operated. They were never the types for skinship or thinly veiled confessions anyway. 

It probably started early on. They'd gotten together just before M went to China, so suddenly their honeymoon phase was skipped when Lay disappeared. Phone calls were infrequent, but text messages were plentiful. They’d send each other sweet nothings, Lay always hoping Suho would smile that brilliant smile as he read it, and Suho hoping that Lay would laugh that beautiful melodious laugh. Even though they never knew for sure if the other did as hoped, they kept sending each other texts.

The other members probably knew. But none of them mentioned it. Their relationship sort of transcended gossip, and even if it didn’t, Suho and Lay were happy, so they wouldn’t have minded.

When the two groups reunited, Lay and Suho would often try to get around the designated standing arrangements, but when that didn't work, they'd settle with glances and small smiles. It was what they were used to anyway. They'd sneak out at night from their respective dorms and go to a restaurant Lay had discovered to get fish cakes. It was in Buam-dong, Jongno-gu in Seoul, high up a hill in a tiny house. The restaurant suited them quite well; it was only open late at night, and it was literally only large enough for about ten people total. The only person working there filled all the roles a restaurant required, and he knew Lay and Suho well.

Well enough to leave them alone as they stole kisses in the dead of night, the only chance they had.

It didn't make them sad, that separation was the norm. Rather, they were happy, because it meant that the time they did spend together would be that much more precious.

And anyway, silence was how Suho and Lay operated.

Anyway, even though this drabble has no dialogue, I kind of like it.