𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐜 // matt sturniolo imagines

𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝

tw: blood, cuts, slight nsfw, angst

you had never been one to fight. 

you were shy and reserved; a tranquil lake of calmness, a cat who brushes up to people over time, the warm wind on a hot summer night. now, one would think that you and matt would relate since he's the quiet one out of his three brothers. however, this wasn't the case. matt had always seemed cold ever since you popped into his life after befriending nick and chris. sure, he tolerated you and drove you around when his brothers asked, but he rarely spoke any words to you, let alone a full sentence. 

you were constantly alienated from his perspective; you were a newcomer in a town where everyone grew up together with bonfires and small town drama. he didn't want to open up to the new girl. so, of course, you returned the favor. you didn't hate matt, and you don't think he hates you, but you two could rarely keep a conversation going. in fact, you've never really had a conversation with him. you tried to befriend him. you tried to include him in everything, especially with his brothers. but it was always dry, one word responses where the two of you wouldn't even look at each other. or so you thought. 

currently, you were at the front door of the triplets apartment with a bruised cheekbone, ribcage, and neck adorning cuts on both your arms and thighs. surprisingly, you didn't feel much pain; possibly from shock. you woke up that morning expecting to go to school like normal. not once did you think that today you'd get bloody and bruised. yet, you were fine; the other girl looked way worse than you did. 

as a regular at their house, you went over whenever you'd like. you knocked on the door, expecting either nick or chris to open it. to your surprise, it was matt, who was staring wide-eyed at the beaten girl in front of him, his mouth slightly parted. his tattoos were out with a white wife-beater adorning gray sweatpants that hung slightly loose. his hair was messy, almost as if the grisly sight in front of him was the first thing he saw after waking up. 

"what the..." his voice trailed off as he took in the sight of blood dripping underneath the cuts on you arms. 

you questioned, holding gauze to your cuts, "are your brothers home?" 

"no, they went out to go get food. what happened?" 

"i don't wanna talk about it. i'll be in your bathroom." 

you pushed through him, to which he spun around with his eyes still glued onto you. he ran his hands through his hair in stress before eventually following you and going into the room in front of the bathroom; his room. you left the door open, as did he. 

you took a towel from the bathroom closet and dabbed it on the slits of your arms, before rinsing and wringing the towel out. you felt matt's eyes on you as you cleaned yourself up. you zoned out. as embarrassing as it was to admit, you did not know how to get your cuts clean; this was the first time you had ever gotten hurt this badly. you were a ticking time bomb; the longer you took, the less the shock from it numbed the pain your body felt, meaning that you were starting to truly feel the severity of your injuries. 

suddenly, you felt a presence behind you. you turned around, looked up, and saw the same tattooed boy standing over you. he was close; a half of a step closer and you two would be touching already. the bathroom had always been small to you, but knowing that it was only you and him in such a cramped space made it seem even smaller. claustrophobic, even.

"sit on the counter," he softly demanded. his voice was tense but still delicate. 

you obliged, feeling the cold counter beneath you, facing matt as he took a cotton swab and some liquid he grabbed from the cabinet in front of you. he dipped the cotton swab inside and traced his finger around the cuts on your thighs. his brows furrowed at how you were handling the pain so well; playing hockey was rough, so he knew the cut was deep, but not deep enough to need stitches.