butterflies ઇଓ matt sturniolo imagines

𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘸𝘭

ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ

     when matt was tired, you had two choices: let him fall asleep where he was, or try to get him up and into bed... and risk waking him up for the whole night. he was sort of like a baby, in that respect.
you didn't mind handling a sleepy matt, of course. he was ten times as precious. a tired matt meant you were admired with a pair of steroid-level puppy dog eyes, and clung to like a soft lifeline. matt loved to be close to you when he got groggy. he loved how warm you were, and how your shoulder cradled his head when he laid it down. once the boy's eyes fell heavy, he morphed into a puppy looking for a spot to sleep, and you were well-versed in keeping him that way.
     the trouble with matt is that if you accidentally wake him up, he will snap right out of his daze. his energy will spike and it'll be hours before he sleeps again; and you suffer sometimes, since he hates being awake alone if you're there.

     tonight was one of many in which you had a choice to make- except the consequences were far more severe.

     matt and his night owl brothers had invited you to a marvel movie marathon, where they planned to start chronologically with captain america and move forward. they had the adorable misconception that they'd watch as many as they could, but you knew there were far too many marvel movies for one night. still, you promised to show up. and just as you'd expected, after three movies, every single one of them was asleep. chris was thrown like a ragdoll across the couch, face down in a pillow; nick was perched cozily against the arm of the couch, tucked away from chris's head and fast asleep on his own shoulder; and matt was laying down on the loveseat adjacent to the couch, right in your lap. his head was heavy against your thighs, facing the television with eyes closed, and his arms were wrapped up in the blanket he'd draped over you both. the brunet dozed off after a few minutes of your hands combing through his chocolate curls- the comfortable monotony of you was enough to calm him completely.

now, this normally wouldn't be so bad. you'd just lift his head and scoot out from beneath him as gently as you could, taking all the time in the world, and lay him back down so he can stay comfortable. then, you'd climb into his bed and sleep soundly for the rest of the night. but tonight, there are two threats to matt's r.e.m. cycle: the broken, creaking floorboard by the bathroom, and your urgent need to pee.
earlier in the week, the boys had bowling balls in the house. you never found out the real cause- just that they were "for a video"- and of course, chris dropped one. in the hallway that leads to matt's room, smack in the middle of the floor, the hardwood is cracked and splintered from where chris dropped a ten pound bowling ball; and whenever anybody walks across, it creaks like a thousand-year old castle door.
and the more pressing matter: you'd been sitting on the couch for nearly seven hours. the clock is nearing the three a.m. mark, your legs are so numb from cushioning matt's head you can't even feel the pins and needles anymore, and you haven't gone to the bathroom in hours. you'd held it every time you thought of going, and now you couldn't wait any longer.

it was going to be a challenge, and one you had to complete quickly if you were to succeed. you needed to get out from under your boyfriend and make it to the bathroom without waking up him or his insomniac brothers- if you rouse all three, you'll never get any sleep.

the hardest part would be moving slow enough not to wake matt up, but fast enough that you'll be able to get to the bathroom. so, in a swift motion, you scooped his head up with one hand and held it above your legs, using your free arm to shimmy yourself out from beneath him. the trick was keeping the head-arm steady so he didn't feel all the movement of the couch-arm. you scooted furiously, trying to make good time, pausing every second when matt's tired face twitched. once you were clear, you quickly shoved a pillow down and laid him on it softly, trying not to let go too fast. you'd gotten good at moving smoothly from all the times he's fallen asleep on you.
a glance around the living room proved everyone was still asleep, and your entire body was itching with the urge, so you began to tiptoe. the living room and kitchen were a breeze, silent footsteps all the way- but matt's hallway was the obstacle. you stared at the daunting, wrecked patch in the floor like it was a sinkhole. one misstep and you not only splinter yourself but wake up the whole house.