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Matt Espinosa Imagine
*Matt’s POV*
I scurried up the stairs towards Y/N’s room, happily gripping the dozen pink roses I’d brought her. I was going to ask her to prom today, and I had been rehearsing what I was going to say in my mind over and over again. Y/N, you’re so beautiful. I’ve been loving you ever since we first met freshman year. Will you go to prom with me? I repeated it and gave myself a nod of approval. It sounded good. I rounded the corner in the upstairs hallway, where I could now see her bedroom door. It had a couple of drawings hung up on the outside, one falling off, due to a terrible taping job.
I knocked quietly and when no one answered I pushed the door open. Her room was a mess… but who was I to judge? Mine was messier. The comforter on Y/N’s bed was thrown about; she must be a heavy sleeper. There was a pair of jeans and two shirts lying on the floor by her closet, with about a dozen pillows astray about the room. The drawers of the white dresser were all open, clothes spilling out. It was adorable.
*Y/N’s POV*
I watched the blood drop next to my tears on the white tile floor. It was a creepy sort of comfort. Sometimes I just need to bleed to make sure I’m alive (props to you if you know what song that’s from). I heard a slight knock on my door and froze. Who was here? Mom was running errands… Dad was on a business trip… no one else was supposed to be home! I dropped the razor blade on the floor and it clinked down next to the drops of blood. I looked down at my wrist and saw all the cut marks from this year. There had to be at least twenty. And it was only March.
I tried to get myself to stop crying, so that I didn’t look like such a wimp to whoever was at the door. I sniffled, trying to recover. When I cut, it’s always because I build up all the crap I get and cover it up with a broken smile (second props to you if you know what song that’s from too). But it always builds and builds and builds and soon enough, the walls burst and the water of pain rushes through my body, eating away at my soul.
And I cut.
And cut.
And cut.
“Y/N?” I heard a deep teenaged voice ask from my room. Was that Matt Espinosa? Why would he be here? I didn’t even think he cared that much about me. I mean we were friends… but nothing ever more than that. I didn’t respond to his call.
“Y/N?” he asked again. I tried not to sniff, but it came anyway. He obviously heard, because I could hear his heels clicking across the hardwood floors in my room and towards my bathroom. He knocked. “Y/N, I know you’re in there,” he said. I could tell he was smiling. I most definitely was not smiling.
“What do you need, Matt?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. The façade worked at first.
“Well, I want to ask you something. Can I come in?” he asked.
“I…” I began. The door opened before I could finish. Matt’s happy gaze looked around the room until he saw me kneeling on the floor, bending over my body, trying to cover up the blood and tears on the floor.
“Y/N…” Matt said. “What are you doing?” His voice was terrified, distressed, angry, and shocked all together. His eyes were wide, staring down at the razor blade sitting next to me. The tears came so fast it was like a downpour of sadness onto my cheeks.
Matt dropped the roses on the sink and sat down next to me, wrapping his arms around my torso from behind and pulling me into his chest. He rocked back and forth slightly, securing his arms around me, gripping tight, as if he never wanted to let go.
“Shh…” he coaxed, “why would you do this to yourself?”
“Because…” I started. “Because…”
“No, no, that doesn’t matter. Just… know that I’m here, okay?” he said, kissing the top of my head. “I’ll always be here. You’re never alone. You’ll always have me to fall back on.”
I nodded slightly. The tears had stopped.
“So, Y/N,” Matt started again. “Would you like to go to prom with me?”