butterflies ઇଓ matt sturniolo imagines

𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘤 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘬 ***

content warning:
descriptions of a panic attack.

stay safe, loves.

ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ

     things were going so well. why can't things ever just keep going well?

the day was perfectly fine. it was more than fine, actually- it was one of the best days you'd had in a long time. you were awoken by excited banging on your front door, and stumbled out of bed to find matt and his brothers on your doorstep with complimentary mcdonald's breakfast. they were dressed and ready for the day already, and at the ungodly hour of seven a.m.- not even you woke up this early, let alone those nocturnal boys.

"eat up and get dressed!" nick ordered, pushing through the doorframe. his brothers piled in behind him, shoving right past you into the apartment.

"guys... it's seven," you whined, rubbing your eyes.

matt leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, rubbing the spot he placed it with his thumb. then he said, "take your time and get ready. they woke me up and begged me to take everyone on a day trip to the pier," he chuckled. "come on, i got you a mcgriddle."

it was the perfect morning: your boys lounging around and entertaining you while you considered different outfits and what way to twist up your hair, a free breakfast from the cutest boyfriend, and a music-filled drive out to santa monica. you'd never been in such a good mood, except for maybe when the last spider-man movie came out in theaters.
the trip to the beach was even more wonderful. matt had been such a good sport, following you, nick, and chris as each of you dragged him through town to every shop and stand that caught your eyes. chris tore through santa monica place and walked out with three new pairs of pants and what had to be five pounds of t-shirts at least. nick's excitement peaked at the pier's boardwalk games, and after two hours of getting ripped off by stand workers, the eldest triplet walked away having won three stuffed animals for himself and one for each of his brothers and you. the aquarium was where you and matt found joy; you let his brothers run wild while the two of you watched hammerhead sharks and tropical fish swim in the otherworldly blue tanks.
     it was beautiful, watching matt watch the aquatic life; he looked at the sea creatures like they were magic themselves. you stole a photo of his wonder-filled eyes when he wasn't looking. his skin was glowing blue from the reflection of the tank, and there were minuscule images of fish swimming in his irises. it quickly became your favorite photo of the boy.

     the day was cool and breezy, and the sun was shining. you'd visited all the prettiest places santa monica had to offer. the triplets had even planned reservations at some mexican place that they described as "cool and dark like a hollister store". everything was turning out to be better than the last thing.

     and that was when it happened.

     in the car, on the way to the cool, dark, hollister-esque mexican restaurant, it happened.

     at first you assumed you were overheating; that might be expected after an entire day of running around a beach town. you sat in the passenger seat beside matt, and you felt sweat beading at your hairline. you wiped and wiped, but it kept poking through your skin, and you grew so hot it began pooling in every possible place- your armpits, the backs of your knees and neck, your palms, between your toes. it was everywhere. you shimmied out of your denim jacket, pulled your hair back in a thoughtless bun, and rolled down the window to get some cool air.

     matt noticed and asked, "are you hot?"

     you opened your mouth to confirm, but you felt your words get caught in your throat. your tongue was dry like you hadn't had water in weeks, and your entire mouth tasted sour. you closed your mouth and nodded.