Ryeowook was sitting on the couch when Jongwoon stumbled through the door; the older man was obviously drunk and he collapsed on the loveseat in the living room. Ryeowook was painfully aware of how invisible he was to his hyung at the moment, but he took a deep breath and sat up a little straighter.

“I’m tired of this, Jongwoon.”

Jongwoon looked up at the sound of a quiet voice, his head bobbing for a second before he let it dip back and his eyes slip shut.

“Dammit, Ryeowook, shut up.”

Ryeowook took a deep breath, trying not to cry. He stood up, grabbing his coat from the arm of the sofa. He gently picked up a small ceramic heart from the coffee table and walked over to the loveseat, pressing the container against Jongwoon’s stomach.

“Goodbye, Jongwoon,” he whispered, then turned, leaving his key on the coffee table as he walked out of the front door.

Jongwoon’s only response was a loud snore.

---

When he woke in the morning, the first thing he noticed was the pounding in his head and he groaned, shifting slightly in the chair. There was a kink in his neck that he knew would bug him the rest of the day and he didn’t quite feel like moving yet, so he just sat there, trying to remember what happened the previous night while he waited for Ryeowook to bring him a cup of tea like he always did.

There had been alcohol, lots of it, lots of drinks he couldn’t remember the names of and lots of beer. There had been , too, and some pretty girl he didn’t know and a long taxi ride back to his apartment in the early hours of the morning. What else? Ryeowook had been asleep, hadn’t he? No, wait—Ryeowook was up when he came home. Maybe he was still sleeping, since he’d gone to bed late. And what was on his stomach?

He picked up the ceramic heart on his chest and held it up, turning it over in his hands and trying to remember if it held any special meaning or not. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen it before, so where’d it come from?

Jongwoon shrugged slightly, tossing the heart in the direction of the couch. He missed, though, and the heart crashed into the edge of the coffee table, shattering into a thousand pieces.

Oh well, he thought, closing his eyes again. I’ll clean it up later.

---

He didn’t bother to move until much later in the day, almost dinnertime. His head hurt significantly less and he had full control of his limbs, so he started to get up and stumble to the kitchen, only to run across the shards of a broken heart on the floor.

He sighed, stooping down to grab some of the bigger pieces, but he froze when he caught sight of the thin slips of paper scattered on the ground.

---

I love Jongwoon’s smile. It makes me feel safe.

Jongwoon bought me a sketchbook! My friends say it’s stupid, but I think it’s sweet. I’m glad he remembered.

I wish Jongwoon would sing to me forever.

I like to run my fingers over Jongwoon’s fingers. I like the way his fingers feel on my skin.

Jongwoon’s smell. It’s like home.

I wish Jongwoon would stop drinking.

Am I not good enough anymore?

I love Jongwoon. I don’t think he loves me. Not anymore.

---

When he left Jongwoon’s house, Ryeowook when to Donghee’s. He stayed there for the night, then went to Youngwoon’s the next day, lounging around and not saying much about what had happened. He’d left his heart there, with Jongwoon, and talking wouldn’t help. He just wanted to forget.

Youngwoon was stretched out across the couch, asleep, when Ryeowook heard a soft knock on the door at eleven o’clock at night a couple days later. Against his better judgment, he stood, slowly pulling open the door, only to find himself face to face with the one person he both desperately wanted to see and desperately wanted to avoid.

“Hey.” Jongwoon’s hair was messy and his shirt was hanging limply off his limbs and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

“Why are you here?”

Jongwoon a small ceramic heart toward him and Ryeowook felt hot, angry tears well up in his eyes.

“You idiot. I don’t want it back. I left it there because I don’t want it. I thought maybe it’d help you get a clue. I don’t want it! It only hurt me!” His voice rose to a shrill screech and he ripped the heart out of Jongwoon’s hands, throwing it as hard as he could against the floor, tears streaming down his cheeks as Youngwoon shot off the couch and pulled him away from the shards.

Jongwoon didn’t say anything; he just bent down, picking up one of the small strips of paper among the broken heart and holding it out, his hands shaking slightly.

He turned and disappeared down the driveway after Ryeowook took it from him.

---

I love Ryeowook’s voice and the way it sounds like music no matter what he says.

I love Ryeowook’s cooking more than anyone’s.

I love the feeling of Ryeowook’s lips on mine and the way we move together, so in sync.

I feel like I’m losing him and I don’t know what to do.

I drink to get rid of the loneliness. I feel really alone sometimes, even though he’s right there.

I would never want to hurt Ryeowook.

Why didn’t I go to him? Why didn’t I talk to him? I’m a ing idiot.

I love Ryeowook.

I will always love Ryeowook.

I love you.

I’m sorry.

---

Ryeowook was sitting on the couch when Jongwoon stumbled through the door a year later; he looked up, a small smile on his face, and patted the space next to him. The older man collapsed, stretching out across the sofa and resting his head on Ryeowook’s lap.

“Long day?” The younger put down his book to run his fingers through Jongwoon’s hair, humming softly.

“Like you wouldn’t believe. But…” Jongwoon glanced up, a smile spreading across his face. “It’s getting a lot better the longer I sit here with you.”

Ryeowook laughed, smacking his cheek gently before leaning down and kissing him quickly. “I made dinner and left some for you in the fridge, if you’re hungry.”

“Nah, not right now. Youngwoon came by work and took me out to dinner. Talked a lot about you, too.”

“He still thinks I’m stupid for giving you another chance.”

“And I still think I’m stupid for ever hurting you in the first place. But I swear, I’ll make it up to you every day for the rest of my life.”

Ryeowook glanced up at the mantle above their fireplace; there were two jars there, each one filled with fragments of a broken heart and thin strips of paper. There was a third heart, too, this one whole, sitting between the two jars. They’d started that one together after they’d started over, relearning why they’d fallen in love in the first place. They had a long way to go, but they had the rest of their lives to get there. They were just two broken hearts coming together to build something stronger.