MATT STURNIOLO IMAGINES

Rebroken

I hated hospitals. I always had. The white walls, the sterile air, the cold floors—everything about them was meant to make you feel small and vulnerable. And today, I was feeling more vulnerable than ever. I'd already been here for an X-ray, but now, I had to go through the worst part—my foot had to be rebroken before they could put it in a cast. My heart raced just thinking about it. I wasn't sure what terrified me more—the procedure itself or the fact that I had to be here alone.

Except, I wasn't alone.

Matt was with me.

And that made all the difference.

I wasn't sure when it happened exactly. When Matt and I went from being the best of friends to something... more. But looking back, I think it all started when we got to 7th grade. Before then, we were inseparable. We'd spent hours talking about everything under the sun, hanging out after school, and laughing over dumb jokes. But somewhere between the start of 7th grade and the end of it, something shifted.

Matt started pulling away. He stopped trying to talk to me as much. He wasn't as eager to hang out to joke around, and at first, I thought I had done something wrong. But as time passed, I realized it wasn't me—Matt had started to look at me differently.

When we were in class, I noticed how his eyes would dart away if I caught him looking at me. He would start talking less to me when his friends were around, and when it came time to hang out after school, he'd always have some excuse. For the first time, I wondered if maybe I had been blind to something obvious that had been there all along. Maybe he didn't just see me as his best friend anymore. Maybe he felt something more—something that was making him afraid to be around me.

But for whatever reason, he never said anything. And because of that, the gap between us grew.

I had tried to bridge that gap, but I quickly realized that it was useless. Something inside him had changed, and I couldn't push through the wall he was building. We were still friends, of course, but it was different now. It was quieter. More distant.

That was why, when I found myself sitting here on a cold hospital chair, preparing for the most terrifying part of my visit, I was surprised to see Matt at the door. I hadn't asked him to come, but when I'd mentioned to our friends that I had to go back to the hospital for another procedure, Matt had been the first one to offer to come with me.

I stared at him, sitting there now beside me, his hands in his pockets, his expression a mix of concern and quiet determination. He wasn't saying much, just waiting for the nurse to come back in, but it was clear that he was there for me. He always was. And despite everything, despite the awkward distance that had grown between us over the years, he was still the one person I trusted the most.

"You sure you're okay?" Matt's voice cut through my thoughts. I hadn't even realized how tense I'd gotten until I felt his eyes on me, his gentle concern always managing to slip past the walls I'd carefully built around myself.

I forced a smile, though it didn't reach my eyes. "I'll be fine. It's just a rebreaking. I've been through worse."

Matt didn't buy it. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he gave me a soft but knowing look. "I know you're not fine," he said quietly, his voice full of that unmistakable sincerity I'd known for years. "And I know you hate hospitals. I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'm here with you."

I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell him that I could handle it on my own, but I knew he wasn't going to leave me, and honestly? I didn't want him to. There was something about his presence that made me feel a little less scared.

For a moment, I let myself lean back against the chair, trying to relax. I didn't want to show how much I was freaking out about the rebreaking. I didn't want to look weak in front of him, but it was hard when I could feel the pounding in my chest, the gnawing fear in the pit of my stomach.

Matt must've sensed it because he didn't push me to talk. Instead, he simply sat there with me, not asking any questions, not trying to distract me. He was just... there.

And in that moment, everything shifted.

I realized that no matter how much things had changed between us, how much distance there had been these past few years, Matt was still here. He was still the person who cared. He was still the person who made me feel safe, even when I didn't realize I needed it.

I swallowed hard, trying to calm my racing thoughts, but it was hard. It felt like the weight of everything that had changed between us was coming down on me. But in a good way. A way that made my heart race for different reasons. Maybe I was starting to see Matt in a way I hadn't before. Not just as a friend, not just as the person who had once been the one constant in my life, but as someone who had always been there when I needed him, and someone I started to realize I could need again. More than I ever expected.

The doctor came in soon after, and everything happened so quickly. I had to take a few deep breaths to steady myself as they prepared my foot. The rebreaking was painful—much more painful than I expected. But through it all, Matt didn't leave. He didn't even flinch when I gripped his hand tight, squeezing it for comfort as I tried to get through it. He sat by me, holding my hand with an unwavering gentleness, offering me a steady, comforting presence as I braced myself against the pain.

It wasn't until it was over, and I was sitting up again, breathing heavily and feeling exhausted, that I realized how much Matt had changed for me. No longer was he just the boy I'd known since 7th grade, the one who'd distanced himself because of his crush on me. He was the boy who had stayed with me when I needed him most, who had seen through my attempts to be strong and stay, regardless of the walls I had built.

"I'm proud of you," he said quietly, a soft smile pulling at his lips as I slowly came back to myself. "You're tougher than you think."

And in that moment, I realized something I hadn't fully allowed myself to understand until now. The shift between us didn't just happen back in 7th grade. It had shifted again. This time, in a way, I couldn't ignore. The walls were crumbling, and I was letting him in again—letting him in for the first time in years.

"I'm glad you're here," I said softly, meeting his eyes. "I didn't realize how much I needed you until now."

He smiled, his expression more tender than I had ever seen. And in that smile, I realized that, just maybe, something was starting to change again. Something that felt like the beginning of a new chapter.