UNTIL I FOUND YOU , sturniolo triplets !

stay , matt

❝ what will it take to make this good . . .
alright, gracie abrams

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cw: none
! angst (it's been too long! [it's been one chapter])

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"y/n, just wait, for two seconds," matt says, buckling up his pants and chasing after you as you storm out of his bedroom. the sight would almost be laughable if it weren't for the blonde quietly packing her things and climbing out of matt's open bedroom window.

"no, fuck no, i am not waiting for you," you say, hot tears bubbling in the corners of your eyes. you refuse to let them fall, because you aren't weak, matt doesn't have this power over you, you're better than this.

"y/n, please, let me explain," matt begins, but you cut him off and spin around to face him.

"no, no, this is clearly my fault," you shoot back. matt blinks in confusion and you groan. "because i didn't listen to everyone saying this would be a mistake. now, i'm going to leave, before i say something i'm really going to regret."

"n-no, y/n, don't you dare do that," matt says, grabbing your wrist as you try to wiggle out of his grasp. he doesn't hold on tight enough to hurt you, but he's a good deal stronger than you. you know you can get away if you really try, but frankly, you're almost intrigued to hear what's coming after his words. "don't twist this around and blame it on yourself so that i feel bad."

"oh, i'm sorry, am i supposed to feel bad for you? because wow, i'm so sorry that you were going down on some chick. you must've really hated it, the fucking sounds you guys were making, god."

matt stutters a couple times before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "you need to calm down, y/n."

you scoff. "i need to calm down? you've gotta be shitting me, matthew. do you even listen to yourself when you talk? look me in the eyes and tell me she forced herself onto you, or give me any excuse to make this somewhat okay."

matt goes quiet at your use of his full name, and he stays quiet because he doesn't have an answer for you.

"that's what i fucking thought. now let go of me," you say, ripping your arm away from him.

"y/n, please, i just need to-"

"no! whatever you wanna say, save it. i don't want to hear it," you say, and you can feel your ears burning. "there's nothing you can say to fix this. i'm leaving."

you finally look up at matt, and you see tears rolling down his cheeks. you fight the angel on your shoulder telling you to run to him, apologizing for everything that isn't your fault, to wipe the tears from his eyes, to whisper sweet nothings into his ear and help him to calm down, because it's matt, and matt could never do something like this, and there has to be a reason or an excuse or a misunderstanding, and you can't bear to see him hurting, to see him in pain.

but you can't filter out the sounds from your head, you can't unsee what you saw in the bedroom, you can't forget it and move on. because this isn't matt, and whoever this is doesn't deserve your sympathy.

or maybe it is matt, and you've been too blinded by his light to recognize the darkness that comes with him.

"i would have never done this to you, matthew," you say, and the tears finally rush down your cheeks. you give up trying to stop them, because maybe this will show him how much he hurt you. he deserves to know it, to see it, to feel it. he deserves to ache and grieve and hurt. "you let whoever the fuck that blonde girl was ruin every good year we've had, every good minute, every good second. you have ruined everything. you have ruined the best, realest, most beautiful and pure thing i've ever known. that's so fucking selfish. why didn't you tell me you were getting bored? or tired of me? or that it just wasn't working? i would've understood, we could've tried to fix this, matt. but you've broken it. i gave you everything, and you couldn't even give me the respect to say it to my face. why didn't you tell me, matt? i could've fixed it. i could've tried to fix it. you didn't let me."

your voice is shaking, and your fists are clenched by your sides, and you really want to punch something and break something and cause something to hurt.

you don't know what to do, so you walk up to matt, and you hit his shoulder. you hit both his shoulders, you pound your fists against his chest, not to hurt him, but to try.

"let it out," he whispers, and you break down. you punch his chest and his shoulders and his stomach and his chest again, and you hit where his heart should be, you hit him and hit him and hit him and you don't worry that you're hurting him because you know he's stronger than you. and even if he does hurt, you really don't care, because he deserves it. you'll look back and regret it and wish you cared more, but in this moment, you want nothing more than for him to hurt the way he made you hurt. and if the only way to do that is physical, then so be it.

you hit him until you're exhausted, and your legs collapse under you because everything hurts, and you've never been this sad before, so sad that you can physically feel your heart sink, so sad that your hands shake and you can't see and you can't hear. you feel a pair of arms catch you and take you into a bedroom, not matt's bedroom, but a different bedroom. you're grateful, or you would be if you were more conscious, because you don't want to lay on the same bed where matt broke every promise he'd ever made to you.

matt's arms around you wrap you like a giant green flag, and for that second, you can no longer see any of the red ones. you know that they're there, and that they'll never go away, but you can't find it in yourself to care.

you don't open your eyes, and you hear a faint voice whisper, "i'm sorry."

in the morning, there's a note on the nightstand next to the bed. you don't read it, and instead you leave the house and drive home. you ignore every phone call and every text because god, he needs to hurt. he needs to ache. he needs to grieve and lose you. maybe it isn't the action that will make you the bigger person, but fuck that. fuck moving on, fuck forgiving, fuck hearing people out. he doesn't deserve your forgiveness, and you know you don't deserve to hurt anymore.

the next week flies by in a blur, and the clouds outside your window turn gray, and your window fogs up, and the condensation makes it blurry. you can't see the world outside, and if matt is standing out there, you won't know it. you'll keep it that way until one day, you wipe off the window, and there is no one there.

you let your heart sink, and you let yourself fall to your knees. you let the tears come and you let yourself hurt. you don't deserve to hurt. but you also don't deserve to have to keep it bottled up. and maybe you secretly wish that he had showed up to try again, maybe you wish that despite the obvious fact that you'd deny him once more, that he may have tried. maybe not-so-deep-down, that is all you want-but if nobody is there for you to say that to, then maybe you don't have to feel so guilty about it.

you know that what really hurts the most is the fact that your heart is completely and irreversibly broken, and the only person in the world who could help it to heal is the one who broke it in the first place.

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a/n
i never know how to end these </3 this was absolutely a vent

but THANK YOU SO SO MUCH for over 1k reads ! that is crazy && unexpected && i started writing these as a joke. however, writing these oneshots has helped me to find the joy in writing again ! yal are crazy && awesome; every read/vote/comment means the world && more to me <3