butterflies ઇଓ matt sturniolo imagines

𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳

ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ

     is it really possible to be just friends with a boy?

     if you're not attracted to them, then sure! the right boys are kind, and funny, and gentle. the right boys will protect you and tease you; pick you up when you need a ride; come to you for advice. the right boys will respect you. and the same rules go for if they aren't attracted to girls- that's the best case scenario. but if there's one little sliver within them that likes you, and if you have that same streak, friendship with a boy can almost always be chalked up to inevitable disaster. it might last for a while, but be honest: at least one of you is bound to fall in love, and both of you are bound to break.
     friendship with one boy alone is undoubtedly the most beautiful form of self-destruction. and since you've always known this, now you're asking yourself the more pressing question: is it possible to be just friends with the one boy you've known your whole life?

     chris was the first of the brothers to make friends with you. all the way back in first grade, when the class was playing dodgeball during recess, you sat along the playground fence and picked at the sprouting grass beneath all the woodchips. the ball got kicked out of bounds and landed at your knees, bumping you as it rolled to a soft stop. you looked up to see a little boy with crew-cut hair and a kooky smile staring down at you.

     "my bad!" the boy said.

     "it's okay,"

     "why aren't you playing with everyone else?"

     "i don't like dodgeball. i like baseball more."

     "that's cool," the boy giggled. "i'm chris!"

     "hi, chris."

     "can i have my ball back?"

     "sure."

     chris reached down and picked the red rubber ball up, and his fingertips brushed against your knee. the two of you jumped apart and made gross faces, and he scurried off to rejoin the class game. you reverted to picking at the grass again and watched him play, darting around all the bases like lightning.
     the next day, chris asked the teacher if the class could play baseball. after forcing an agreement out of her, he ran over to the fence and asked you to come play on his team. you said yes.

since then it was history. chris became your best friend, and nick and matt did, too.

    for as long as you've been friends with the triplets- which was a long time indeed- you've gone to their games. through every phase of teams you could be found screaming your brains out in the stands, cheering them on with a big sign that read GO TEAM STURNIOLO! the sign traversed years of matches, and as you held it in your hands now, the edges have yellowed and torn and the markered-in bubble letters were bleeding and dull. chris had helped you make it, funnily enough.
     tonight was the most important game of the year for chris and matt's hockey team; they were facing off with the rival school from two towns over to see who goes to the state championship. nick was commissioned by the coach to take photos of the game, so he got special access to the ice, and that meant you got special access. you were his co-photographer and the best friend to all three boys, so it was an unspoken rule that wherever they go, you went, too.
     matt and chris were beyond nervous. as seniors on the team, this game was their last chance to keep playing. if this game went to the rival school, that meant the season was over, and they wouldn't ever play another game on their high school team. this was it. their anxiety was so strong it was beginning to effect you and nick; just a few hours before the game, all four of you sat in chris's room and collectively forced each other to take deep breaths.