MATT STURNIOLO IMAGINES

Rock Against Glass

The night was filled with the sound of relentless and unforgiving rain as it hammered against the window. The world outside felt distant and blurry, a wash of gray and silver under the streetlights. Inside, everything felt just as clouded. The silence was suffocating. There were no texts or calls, just the quiet hum of the fridge and the steady tick of the clock.

I stared at my phone screen, my thumb hovering over Matt's contact name, but I couldn't bring myself to send a message. What would I even say? The argument from earlier still burned in my chest. It had started over something small—Matt being late again, not listening, not prioritizing me the way I needed. I tried to be patient. I tried to understand his responsibilities and his commitments. But it had been one too many times where I felt like I was the last thing on his list, the one thing he could take for granted.

"You're overreacting, Y/N," he'd said when I tried to talk to him about how I felt. "I have a lot going on, but I always try. I can't drop everything for you all the time."

It stung. The more he said, the more it felt like he didn't care. That I wasn't enough.

I tried to pull myself together, but I could feel the emptiness in the space between us. I was angry, but more than that, I was hurt. I wanted him to understand, to feel the weight of my words, to fight for us, for what we had.

But the more time passed, the more I wondered if he would.

Matt's POV:

I couldn't stop pacing. Every step I took was like another reminder of how badly I messed up. The rain was coming down harder now, soaking through my clothes, but I didn't care. My heart was pounding in my chest, and each beat a constant reminder of the fight that still felt like a heavy weight on my shoulders. I hadn't meant for things to spiral so out of control. But they had.

I had been angry, frustrated—caught up in my own world, thinking I could fix everything without really listening. I didn't understand what she was saying, not at first. All I could hear were her words laced with emotion, and I'd been so focused on defending myself that I didn't realize what I was really doing. I was pushing her away.

Y/N had every right to be upset. Hell, she had more than just a right to be angry; she had every reason to feel like she wasn't a priority anymore. I had promised her I'd make time for us, but all I'd done was let work and everything else consume me. She was the one who was always there when I needed her, and yet, I kept taking her for granted.

And now I was here. Soaked, shivering, standing under her window like some idiot who couldn't even find the words to say sorry properly. I threw another rock up, watching it bounce harmlessly off the glass. The motion felt almost symbolic—like I was trying to break through the barrier I had created between us. I hated myself for letting things get this far. I hated how I had let her feel like she wasn't enough.

I didn't want to lose her.

I hadn't realized just how much I needed her until I saw her face when I stormed out. The hurt in her eyes—those words she'd thrown at me, sharp and accusing—had cut through me more than I wanted to admit. It wasn't just about being late. It was about everything I'd been blind to, everything I had failed to recognize. I was too wrapped up in my own excuses, too focused on fixing everything else in my life, that I failed to fix us.

Her silence, the way she'd looked at me before I left—it haunted me. I kept replaying that moment over and over in my head. I had told her I was doing my best, but I wasn't. Not by a long shot. I wasn't giving her the effort she deserved. She didn't want my excuses. She wanted me to be there. I needed to be there.

I couldn't go another night without telling her I was sorry. I couldn't let her believe I didn't care because I did. I cared more than I'd ever realized, more than I had allowed myself to show. I should've been the one to make things right earlier. I should've called, should've done anything, but instead, I did nothing, and now... now I was left with this empty feeling of regret.