butterflies ઇଓ matt sturniolo imagines

𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴 ***

content warning:
mentions of negative body image.

ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ

     if anybody asked when you were a kid if you loved every part of yourself- even the parts other people didn't- you'd say yes, and you'd know it was a lie. there was nothing more humiliating than feeling displaced in your body. but now, things have changed.
     at first it was little things, like wearing jeans that hugged your hips a little tighter and coming to like the way it looks; showing more skin during the summer and savoring the tan spots that used to stay pale; even wearing shorter skirts and crop tops got easier, because instead of feeling like you were spilling out of them, you found you fit perfectly inside. it was a slow change, and one you'd been making yourself. and you don't really know when the switch flipped, but at some point you started to feel comfortable in your skin. and it was all okay.

     then you met matt, and it got even better.

     matt was particularly important in holding up this new lens you were seeing yourself through. when you met him, he was horrifically shy and had trouble with his words, but the more time you spent with him, he bloomed wide and bright like a budding rose. matt was kind, and gentle, and one-hundred percent irreplaceable; and he thought you were the most beautiful thing he would ever know.
     sometimes you felt like an imposter. when matt would ask to see pictures from years ago, or even pictures from last year, you were terrified to oblige. you'd changed so much since then and you look and feel different now, and as much as you may want to let him in, there's a piece of you that still feels like that little girl who wears shirts three sizes too big. that little girl who never felt at home with her bones. all this work you've done in your head and your heart to look in the mirror and be okay with what you saw as grueling, and nobody told you that accepting yourself meant accepting your past self- and that was something you weren't prepared for. you wanted matt to see you at your best, not your worst.

     matt has been asking to see your old pictures for a while now. he was always so kind when you said no, but after saying no so many times, you started to feel bad and he started to feel dejected. you didn't know how to explain to him why, and that it wasn't his fault, and he shouldn't be upset. there never seemed to be a proper way to approach it.
     tonight, he asked again. the boy was laying with his head in your lap, and you had your fingers twisted in the entangling vines of his coffee-colored hair; he was on his phone while your eyes were trained on the television, and he asked.

     "can you show me some old pictures of you?"

     the only way to describe the force with which your stomach dropped was this: imagine tying a drinking glass to an anvil, and throwing said anvil off mount everest. your stomach is the glass, and his question was the anvil, and the bottom of the mountain was not going to be kind to you.

     "matt-"

     "you've seen like, every old and embarrassing photo of me ever. i know chris and nick have shown you all the ones i try hiding. come on, it'll be fun," he smiled softly, pushing his head into your hand. he loved it when you played with his hair.

     "i- i don't know,"

     you wanted to smack yourself in the face. you wanted to tell yourself, get over it. every ounce of you had the clear understanding that matt would never judge you, but still you struggled to open up.

     matt wanted to complain. he wanted to be annoyed with you. but if anybody knows about being afraid to speak up or tell people how they really feel, it's him. so instead the boy sat up and looked over his shoulder at you, a distant glimmer in his eyes.