butterflies ઇଓ matt sturniolo imagines

𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵

ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ

when chris can't sleep, he eats. when chris can't decide, he eats. so when you're around, chris is starving. but not tonight.

     sleepovers were common practice for you and your best friend since elementary school. as a fellow night owl, you and chris got along best when it was late; for as long as you've known him, you've hung out at night. when you were kids, you had scheduled sleepovers every friday. now that you're older, usually he texts you and asks if you want to grab a bite, or you just show up in pajamas with ice cream and sit around while he plays games. he never asks much of you, and you're the same; that's why you could hug him, or blow him kisses, or fall asleep on his shoulder; and why he teased you constantly, and he hated going anywhere without you. there's something easy about the two of you. nothing felt more safe than chris, and that becomes more true the older you grow with him.

     there were many bad habits chris harbored, but his worst was that he was a chronic can't-sleep-alone-r. he has trouble getting tired, and when he is tired, he can't sleep until he's in someone else's bed; he hates to be alone. for a long time you were no help, because you were both too young to be allowed in each others' rooms; but by the time age eighteen came around, his brothers slept soundly, and you confined chris to his own room where he slept beside you. you would sleep over most nights during senior year, and nearly all summer. you were inseparable from the boy. it was only when nick, matt, and chris moved away that he stopped sleeping. you moved to california just months later because you missed him so much that you weren't sleeping either- and now your own apartment barely saw you anymore, but you didn't mind. chris had a much larger bed, and a much warmer room, and the days when you'd wake up tangled in his arms were your most favorite days. they have been since you were a kid.

     but he didn't like this at all. for him, having you around was a dependency he grew more afraid of every day. and it's getting too difficult.
     after weeks of you sleeping over, getting up and going home to shower and dress and go to work, and then coming right back to see him again, chris's days were starting to revolve around your clock. when you left, when you returned. he could only think in seconds and minutes and hours since he last saw you. and anytime matt or nick asked him, "hey, wanna go out?" his first thought was, i need to check when she's coming back first.

     it's yet another night where chris can't sleep, even with you there. you dragged him downstairs a few hours earlier and drifted off with ease, while the boy laid on his back and stared at the ceiling. he listened to you breath, and when the mattress started feeling warm from you sleeping in it, he got up and walked upstairs to the kitchen. he couldn't stay in there with you any longer.
     the boy stood silently in front of the fridge, staring at the contents inside. he mulled over his choices like a drone. leftover orange chicken. two-day old cane's. nick's disgusting greek yogurt. matt's mac and cheese. nothing was less appetizing than what he laid eyes on in that moment. not a single thing would help him feel better. so he just stood there, letting all the cold air out of the fridge, thinking about the way you sleep with your mouth open.
     he didn't know that when he got out of bed, he landed on the floor too loudly and woke you up. and he also didn't know that you followed him upstairs after hearing the refrigerator open. so, you tapped on his clueless shoulder softly, spooking him.

     "shit!" he wheezed, whipping around to see you. "jesus. you scared me."

     "sorry," you smiled. "why are you up?"

     "couldn't sleep," the boy mumbled. he watched how the sterile fridge light washed over your skin, making your eyes look like they could glow in the dark.