butterflies ઇଓ matt sturniolo imagines

𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘦 ***

content warning:
mild mentions of body insecurity,
mild negative self talk.

you are all so beautiful, and
i hope in some way this will
remind you of that.

ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ

     you felt like breaking the mirror.
you were well aware that aiming a punch with all of the might in your body straight into the glass would likely tear your knuckles up and make a bloody mess of your hand, but you were so upset you were nearly willing to risk the injury. as long as the mirror shattered into a million pieces and stopped reflecting you, you were okay with slicing your palm open.

instead you just shut your eyes and rested your face in your hands, trying to pull yourself together.

     your anniversary with matt was today. it's been six months- the best six months of your life. there is not one thing about matt that isn't perfect for you; he would say he's not perfect in the slightest, and you would say that's true, but that doesn't mean he isn't perfect for you. and you believe that wholeheartedly.
     since he's quite the gentleman, matt got dinner reservations at a fancy restaurant for the two of you. he said he's always wanted to take you out to a fancy dinner, even though you were much more the takeout-and-staying-home type, because he wanted to spoil you; so you agreed, and immediately panicked because you didn't have anything nice to wear.
     you bought a brand new dress for dinner at the mall today, and when you tried it on in the dressing room, it fit like a glove. green like a tree deep in the forest, it made the slight curves in your hips swoop the way you always wished they would, and it disguised the bit of belly you were always trying to mask beneath a big shirt. it even looked cute with your arms, because it had little puffed sleeves that distracted from whatever chub you had. it was the perfect dress, and you felt beautiful in it.

     until you took it home.

     now, as you saw yourself in the mirror, it looked all wrong. it hugged you in every bad place, emphasizing each lump and bump it so wonderfully cloaked earlier in the day. you felt like you were bursting out of it. you felt huge.
you rubbed your face in distress, feeling the nerves in your chest start to spread like flooding water. you had no idea what to do. i can't look bad for matt, you thought, he won't want to take me out if i look like this.

it was almost as if thinking about the boy had summoned him out of thin air. a knock sounded outside the bedroom door, and you heard his scratchy voice call out, "hey, can i come in?"

     "j-just a second!"

you nearly toppled over yourself as you hurried to shimmy out of the dress and tug on the closest pair of pajama pants you had. you slipped a hoodie over your head and rushed to the door, letting out a deep breath before opening it up.

     "hey- wait, what's going on?"

     how does he know? you thought to yourself. you had put on your most convincing smile and everything. not convincing enough, i guess.

     "nothing! nothing's going on."

     "you're lying to me," matt pursed his lips. the boy crossed his arms across his chest and leaned against the doorframe, wearing that you make this too easy kind of look on his face.

     "i'm not lying,"

     "oh, really?" matt smirked, "then why are your eyes bright red?"

     "... i'm very high."

     "oh, you're bad," the boy cackled, impressed by your willingness to commit to the bit. "nobody who smokes says they're very high, you weirdo. you don't smoke and you know it. come on, love, what's the matter?