Sturniolo Triplet Oneshots!

Drowning in a Sea of Stars (Matt)

Sooo this fic isn't a oneshot. It's a longer work, and I'll be posting a different book that updates it! But for now, here's the first chapter so you can see if it interests you or not!

Prompt: Matt was separated from Nick and Chris at birth. Growing up in an abusive foster family, life hasn't been easy to him. One fateful day, they cross paths once more. 

Warnings: Abuse, violence, self-harm, etc. Read at your own risk

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Matt never knew his family.

His life was a constant shuffle, from one foster family to another, never settling, never consistent.

At five years old, he was taken in by the Johnsons. He thought that they would finally be the ones to treat him right, care for him, and love him.

But no, they weren't.

Ella, his mom, was an absolute snob. She hated seeing Matt's face, and would often drink until she passed out. She'd step on him with her heels, and toss her empty bottles at him until shards of glass poked at his skin.

William, his dad, was a drug addict. He would burn his cigarettes into Matt's skin, leaving him with more scars than he could count at the time. Everytime Matt was simply in his line of sight, he'd take his anger out on him.

He had a brother, too. He was a year older than Matt, and, like his parents, was an asshole. Noah had always lied to his parents about what he did to get him in more trouble.

He wanted to speak out, to get taken away to another family, but he couldn't.

It didn't help that no one believed him; the foster system was like that.

Every time he'd scream and cry for help, clinging onto a police officer, the people who had the duty to protect others, his parents would laugh and claim that Matt was throwing a tantrum for not getting a toy he wanted.

And it would frustrate him to no end. To not be believed. To be shoved in a closet for hours on end, not eating for four days straight, and getting beaten black and blue until his throat was too tired to scream.

Eventually, Matt gave up. By the time he was six years old, he had lost all hope of finding a better family. He knew that the Johnsons weren't the only families who fostered kids just for the money that came with it. So he quit. He stopped fighting back, he stopped crying for help, he stopped everything . Matt just stood by and took it, no matter how bad.

Because if he resisted, he'd only make it worse for himself. And he'd rather go around with a bloody arm than a broken one.

Growing up, he didn't have much. His 'room' was the stuffy old attic that only collected dust before the Johnsons took him in. The only thing he enjoyed about the attic was the window that accompanied it.

More often than not, after his parents were done with him, he'd gaze out at the window, staring at the stars until he fell asleep.

The stars were the only thing that gave him hope. Because something so beautiful, so bright, and so pretty existing in the same world as him must mean that maybe, maybe he'd learn to love himself.

At the age of ten, Matt had learned how to sneak out the window. It was fairly easy, considering the attic was above a section of the house that allowed him to slide down.

He would go to the public library and read everything about the stars he'd seen. It was his greatest enjoyment to look for the new constellations he studied, and he would get giddy when he correctly identified them.