butterflies ઇଓ matt sturniolo imagines

𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨

ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ

     you and matt never fight. ever.

     good relationships don't have fights. everyone knows that. that's what you were taught. fights mean there is negative tension, and there is not an ounce of negativity in either of your hearts when it comes to each other. you've never felt anything but love for matt- clearly, to a fault. it's been months together now, and you haven't butt heads with the boy once. you two had a good thing going.
     if only you hadn't asked him to grab you a soda, then maybe it wouldn't have happened.

"get it yourself." the boy snapped.

"what?"

"i said get it yourself. i'm not your errand boy."

you couldn't even catch his eye- that was how quickly he turned back to the fridge. he stood in front of it, boxy shoulders looming in the sterile lighting, and your heart dropped to your feet.

"jesus, fine. i'll get it myself, then," you grumbled.

you put down your book, which you were only moments away from finishing, choosing to interrupt your focus because you were thirsty. yet while you were doing what he so snarkily suggested you do, that was also a problem, apparently.

"what are you doing?" matt groaned as you stepped into the fridge light beside him, reaching your hand out to grab a root beer.

"what? i'm getting a drink, because you couldn't be bothered!" you scoffed, seizing the can and stepping back. frustration screwed up your face as you continued, "what is your deal right now?"

"there's only two left!"

"what, you can't share?"

a red feeling was staining your chest, bleeding into the way you breathed, and stood, and frowned. matt had a darkness to his eyes, like they were bleeding, too.

"you didn't buy them, did you?"

"fine, fucking take it then," you pushed the soda into his palm, raising your arms in defense. "you know you're giving me a hard time for no reason, right?"

"sure i am." he retorted, pursing his lips in the world's most condescending fake smile.

that expression made you feel more like shit than you ever have. your kind, generous, loving boyfriend was standing with white knuckles, staring hard at your face with nothing short of anger. his hair was falling into his eyes like frayed string, and there were purples patches beneath his eyes like rogue stitching. all this nastiness over a root beer? there's no way.

     you chose not to poke a sleeping bear and surrendered. "whatever, matt."

     the boy trailed you as you went back to the couch, and he sat next to you, leaving nearly no space. you shriveled away from him as you picked your book back up, curling into the corner of the couch. matt scooted closer, touching your leg with his knee, and it felt as if you couldn't breathe. you brought your legs even closer to your body, and matt's head whipped around with agitation.

"what, now i can't touch you?"

you swallowed thickly before replying, "you were being an asshole not even two seconds ago, matt!"

"fuckin' christ. i'll just leave you alone then."

why is he doing this? you choked on air as you recoiled into the sofa.
you wanted to get up and leave him alone, but you wondered if even moving a muscle would be enough to set the boy off now. you sat perfectly still and scouted from the corner of your eye; matt took little, incessant sips from his- your- can of root beer, flipping violently through netflix and refusing to settle on a show. his jaw was taught like a trigger, all of his lethal thoughts only a moment away from firing in rounds.
there was no problem that you knew of. you didn't crack an ill-timed joke, or make fun of him; he didn't sleep poorly or fight with his brothers. matt had been fine all day, and for weeks, as a matter of fact. yet all of a sudden there's this overwhelming attitude shift, and he's taking it out on you; somewhere between when the boy left this morning for the store and came home, his mood soured, and you were in the way.
     your hands began to cramp from holding onto your book so hard, so you released the grip around the binding and sighed with relief. little streams of tears began to flood your eyelids, and you did your best to bite them back and remind yourself that crying doesn't solve everything. and it almost worked, until matt looked back over.