butterflies ઇଓ matt sturniolo imagines

𝘭𝘦𝘵'𝘴 𝘨𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬

ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ

spending christmas with matt wasn't just a holiday, it was a whole to-do. every day leading up to christmas eve was full of activities that required you getting dragged around by matt, nick, and chris; they brought you to every festival and tree lot and seasonal aisle in their hometown stores, but you never once complained. there was no one else you'd rather spend your holiday with than your three favorite boys.
his brothers had planned out a christmas eve movie marathon just for you, and knowing them, the agenda was full; they could stay up all night watching television if nobody stopped them. but from what matt has told you about christmas mornings at the sturniolo household, you knew you would need to wake up early tomorrow, and more often then not, you choose to stay up far too late when you know you should get some sleep. having made that mistake one too many times, you decided tonight would be the night you actually try to do what you always say you're going to, and go to bed early.
it was nearly impossible to pry yourself away from the living room, though, because matt, nick, and chris had you completely entranced in their binge of your childhood favorite christmas movies. the four of you have been sucked into the couch for hours now, managing to complete the first two 'home alone' movies, the version of 'the grinch' with jim carrey, and 'the polar express". they were just about to start 'a christmas story' when you reluctantly sat up and disbanded from the group. despite matt's protests, you shuffled off to bed, promising that you would still be around in the morning to finish the movie. the boy jokingly accused you of ruining christmas, and then let you go with a kiss on the cheek.

it had been nearly an hour of tossing and turning. you heard the boys making a conscious effort to talk quietly, and they even turned the volume on the television down for you so you could get some sleep. but you couldn't seem to get tired, no matter what you did. and you tried everything.
you counted out long breaths, holding them in your stomach for ten seconds at a time before exhaling, but all that did was make you wonder how long a second was, and if you were counting for way too short or too long. then you found yourself overthinking the concept of a second and just felt like an idiot. you got up and shuffled into the kitchen to chug a glass of water, and when the boys excitedly asked if you were coming back, you said, "don't get your hopes up!"
you played rain noises. and ocean noises. and white noise, and brown noise, and listened to the whirring of the fan on the ceiling, and tried to imagine counting sheep like you were four years old, but nothing was working. you were hopelessly untired.
after telling the boys in the living room you were officially going to bed, your pride begged you to stay under the covers and wait it out, because you had to fall asleep eventually- but laying down a second longer, alone and wide awake, sounded like the worst possible thing in the world. so, you bit your tongue and got up, turning on the lights in the bedroom and heading to the closet.

besides taking a drive, the only thing that helped you get tired was to just expend the energy. on your most sleepless nights, you would take walks. the fresh air and the pitch black sky worked wonders for you when you just couldn't find a way to wind down. so, you shoved your feet into your trusty uggs, worked your way into one of matt's spare hoodies, and stuffed yourself into your winter coat- because as you have come to learn, massachusetts winters were inhumane. you grabbed matt's favorite beanie, too, knowing he'd protest. you loved to irk him just a bit every once in a while.

     when you waddled out into matt's living room all bundled up and smiling devilishly, matt couldn't help his laughter. he knew better than to ask what you were doing- most of the time, he came on your walks with you.

     "can't sleep, baby?" the boy asked.

     "unfortunately," you nodded, feeling your face heat up. you weren't sure if it was from the nickname or from the sheer amount of clothes you were wearing.