A Broken Heart

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A/n: I do love writing fluff... also this book is so damn long but idc cus I love writing it. We are getting to the end tho (θ‿θ)

It took me a moment to realise what it was I was holding. When I had acquired it or how.

It took another before I sat up straight and cradled it against my chest. It's pulse slow and unsteady, beating once before stuttering back to a meagre form of life. It's hesitance brought a pity that I could not quite handle. It did not believe it had the right to beat, as all hearts did, but it had to. It seemed to stop- yearned, to stop and yet it couldn't. This beautiful and imperfect heart couldn't help but tick like the hands of a well-wound pocket watch, and as a watchmaker I had never felt such a heavy permeation of relief settle in my gut.

He had given me his heart- not to keep, only to fix - in a way of someone who feared to trouble others with their mortal faults. He had given his heart a mere week ago with the simple request that I fix what I had so carelessly broken.

And now I sat here, holding it between my fingers as it shuddered and stopped and started again, wondering if perhaps, by the laws of the angels that watched upon us from heaven, he could permit me to keep it once more. Because I was a watchmaker. And foolish as I may have been, there was no safer place for a broken heart than in the hands of someone who knew how to fix it.

I was pulled from my thoughts as something small moved beside me, Jimin still curled up against the length of my body, his shirt unbuttoned so that I could just make out the pale, scarred skin of his tummy.

His arms tightened around my waist, nuzzling closer and letting out a sleepy sigh that made my stomach grow warm with adulation.

He was beautiful in all the ways he was imperfect, a contradiction that did well to describe him, both who he had been, and who he was now.

I adored him, though it seemed hard to consider after ten years of estrangement and heartache between the two of us, and yet here I lay with his heart in my hand, and the knowledge that I adored him.

Another small shift beside me swept back the heavy curtain of my thoughts once more, and I looked over to see my flowerboy, blinking up at me with tired, confused eyes. His dark hair was cluttered against his neck and down over his shoulders, a stark contrast to the cream hue of his skin. And his golden coffee eyes seemed to twinkle in the light of the early morning sun.

I found myself unable to stop my smile, a coziness setting over me at the unending surety of his presence. He watched me curiously, eyes flicking from the small heart tucked safely between my fingers, and then back to my face, an unasked question edged in his expression.

"Hi," I whispered, and his confusion lessened, his chin tilting down as a small smile broke through on his face.

"Hi," he murmured.

A moment passed when we said nothing, before he laughed quietly, and leaned forward.

"I think I might have a question for you..."

I smile but nod for him to continue, tucking Jimin closer to me. I had gone ten years without a heart, leaving both mine and his back in Italy with him. It had been horrible. Lonesome. To go without a heart was perhaps the saddest thing one could do. It was a faith I did not wish upon anybody. Especially someone who had already suffered so much in their lifetime.

"I see we are not alone," Taehyung said, breaking me from my impending thoughts once more. His fingers brush through my hair fondly, tugging the strands at the back of my neck and scratching lightly at the top of my head. I sigh and rest back against his shoulder, keeping my eyes focused on Jimin. He is still asleep, his face buried in my tummy, and his legs tangled in mine.

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