A/N: I've noticed that Marty disappeared from the show after having been rejected romantically, and I thought it was strange there was no explanation. The title comes from the idiom; I'm sure there are various titles with the same name, too. Enjoy!

Nobody died of a broken heart. Marty knew that much from rationality taught to him by his Yale professors and logic that he picked up from observing people as he worked many odd jobs and living in reality all his life. The pain of rejection would dissipate. Life would move on. Routine, newer than the one set up by being friends with Rory, would be established once again. It was scientifically impossible to die of a broken heart. At least, that's what his high school biology classes would've led him to believe.

But the pain of Rory Gilmore's rejection stung. It wasn't fair. They were so close! Their conversations were rich, full of vivacity and light hearted jokes and the nuance that belonged between two people who cared for each other deeply. It seemed like Marty had a chance with her. It was when Marty's heart began to flutter every time he saw Rory, and the butterflies in his stomach became more and more apparent when he knew he had fallen in love. It may have been too strong of a description to call his feelings for her love. But it felt that way. And, if his mother who believed in having a psychological answer or explanation (usually both) for everything, his feelings were valid. A part of Marty wished Rory would've re

He hated sounding resentful and bitter, even in the safety of his own thoughts. Marty knew he wasn't entitled to Rory's affections. As he walked down the halls in between classes, he caught glimpses of Rory. She seemed so exuberant and full of life. He wished that she radiated sunshine towards him. But he could never admit that out loud. Marty could only miss her from the sidelines. He couldn't look her in the eyes during class, in fear he'd get lost in the sea of blue, lined by tantalizing chocolate lashes. It seemed natural to Marty that he missed Rory. They were friends; to his knowledge, they were still technically friends. She would chatter with him in between classes. Her voice was a reminder of what once was; that was a melodramatic statement, even in Marty's mind. He was too embarrassed to let himself think it, so he banished the thought as quick as he could manage. Rory's presence, even in short bursts, were appreciated. Marty could never tell her that. He'd have sound too needy, too clingy, too desperate to find her approval. Marty didn't think he would need Rory's approval to make him feel validated.

Marty did what he did best in social situations that challenged his comfort zone: avoid the person causing the conflict at all costs. When Rory and Marty had class together, he'd take the longer, more convoluted route to class. He made sure to walk extra slow and take in all of the scenery. Sometimes, he found new nooks and crannies to enjoy. Yale was building after building that was constructed to be looked at and admired; Marty wished he had more time to take in the gilded, prestigious beauty the buildings exuded. The aloof intellectual elitism that offered answers to questions a student never even knew they wanted to ask was an air Marty wanted to exude. It wasn't in his nature to be that intimidating and quiet and mysterious and elite. His heart was soft and laid out upon his sleeve; his brain was still processing new information every day.

Today was the wrong day to be thinking about the aura Yale gave off. His new route had been figured out. Damn his loud shoes, giving him away!

"Marty," Rory exclaimed, breathless and with wide eyes. Her books were all strewn on the floor. She must've tripped on one of the cobblestones that constructed the path he found to class. Marty couldn't bring himself look her in the eyes when they had bumped into each other. Her piercing yet warm eyes would make him melt into a cliche, romantic puddle of goo. He had a reputation of laying on floors naked to erase.

"R-rory…" Marty stammered.

"I haven't seen you much lately."

"I know, I'm sorry. I've been making myself scarce lately." Marty alternated between wringing his hands and fiddling with the straps on his backpack. Rory was inhumanely still.

"Have you been busy?" Rory asked. The lilt in her voice made her sound more genuine than usual.

"Yeah. Lots of papers, lots of presentations. Too much work and not enough time in the day, you know?" Marty let out a nervous giggle. He began rocking on his feet, anxious as to where this conversation could go. He imagined two scenarios: one would be that she admitted to hating him and never wanting to be friends which was why she didn't make an effort to see Marty, or that she was actually going to admit her feelings for him and they'd run away together into the sunset or whatever romantic vision would await them far away from here.

"I miss you." These were the deadly words to come out of Rory's mouth.

"...Me too."

"Keep in touch, okay?"

"Sure. I have your number."

"See you." Just as she was walking away from him, he stopped her.

"Rory, wait!"

"What?"

"I've got a confession: I've been avoiding you." She looked crestfallen.

"Why?" That single word pierced his heart.

"Because I felt weird being your friend after you rejected me. I know it was for the better and that I'm not entitled to your affection or anything. But I didn't want to make anything weird by being around you and projecting all these feelings about you to you. That would've made me a shitty friend, and I wouldn't want that to put a wedge in our friendship." An anvil sized weight was lifted from Marty's chest. Rory looked confused.

"Thanks for telling me this," she said in a monotone. "I knew there was a reason I liked you." She walked to class, her pace a little more brisk than it was before. Nobody died of a broken heart, Marty remembered, but there must've been a fate better than a broken heart. He should never had said anything. He walked to class, and sat in the back of the class to avoid Rory's judgmental gaze.

As class ended, Marty waited for Rory to pack her bags so he could apologize.

"I'm sorry about the way I acted before class, it was inappropriate of me. Forgive me, please," he pleaded, remembering to keep his tone casual and without desperation.

"I should've responded in a more thoughtful way. Truce?"

"Truce." They shook hands, and Marty smiled a genuine, toothy grin. They walked out of class talking and laughing as if nothing changed. Although their lives diverged onto vastly different paths too quickly for Marty's liking, it was a relief to have closure; spending a life ruminating endlessly over what could have been would've ate him alive. After all, he now learned, a broken heart could be mended.