hearts4sturn

[hearts4sturn]

i know i haven’t been active nor do i have a fic to post but i wanted to wish the boys a happy birthday! i’m a bit newer to the fandom—joining in late may of last year—but genuinely i’ve never regretted it!! i hope these boys have the happiest and most special 22nd birthday ever! and in honor of their 22nd birthday, here’s an edit i made 💗💗

[hearts4sturn]

hi… lwk i haven’t been active because… i just dunno…??? i’ll try to be active soon though, trust 🙏🙏

[hearts4sturn]

Yall got fangirls acting like they celebrities. For the love of god

[hearts4sturn]

guys with short hair ...add up my looooove!!! honey, was it enough?

fluff, kissing, maybe a tad superficial, cute/affectionate, friends to lovers, very minor angst word count - 1.2k

You knew Chris didn’t like people commenting on what his hair looked like. He’d complain about it from time to time (scratch that, most of the time), but it wasn’t like he was asking for anyone’s opinion… except maybe he was.

Chris and you had been friends through thick and thin, and you’d seen many phases to his haircuts. Going from buzzcuts to long hair, mohawks to middle parts, you loved how adventurous he was with his appearance.

He’d never really asked your opinion before, mostly just because you’d grin and compliment and tease him no matter what he looked like. One day though, you were scrolling on your phone and an edit popped up. Chris noticed out of the corner of his eye how your pupils dilated, focusing your stare on the clips playing. Looked like some actor you liked from what he could see.

“I love guys with short hair,” you mumbled then. Chris blinked, biting his lip but trying to pretend as if he hadn’t heard you.

But it just so happened he had a hair appointment a couple days later.

He’d been complaining lately about how long his hair was, how he’d had the same haircut for the past three years, and you’d been encouraging him to try something new. You didn’t realise though that you had encouraged him to get this particular style.

He knew how much you loved actors from the late 90s and early 2000s, how their middle part fanned over their forehead but was still relatively short on the sides. He couldn’t believe he was going through it, especially when he was almost 100% certain he was going to be endlessly compared to his brothers even more now. His barber side-eyed him when he showed him the photos, and he could practically hear the question, “Is this for a girl?” with the way the man’s eyebrows were positioned.

Well fuck it, it was. Chris didn’t know why, but something about getting to you, in this way, someone who had always been such a constant pillar of equal support and teasing, was important to him all of a sudden.

Maybe it was the way he had seen your eyes dance at the figure on your screen, in a way they had never once looked like when you looked at him. Maybe it was the way your lips parted ever so slightly, inhaling a sharp breath not meant for anyone else’s ears. Or maybe he just wanted to be someone you loved—one of those guys with short hair. Maybe it was just something superficial like that.

As the barber finished the haircut, Chris couldn’t help but notice how lightheaded he felt—it was a big change, after all—and he was more surprised than he thought he would be by how much more he looked like his brothers all of a sudden.

Fuck, he thought. Maybe this was the wrong move if he wanted you to notice him more. But then again, why did he want you to notice him at all?

When he did see you again a couple days later, his hair freshly shampooed and styled to his best efforts—he almost looked up a tutorial. Almost. The whole drive over to your place, he was panicking. Chris could feel his stomach turning, his hands and armpits weirdly sweaty as he fought the urge to put the hat, the one he’d brought just in case, on his head. 

When he finally pulled up, you were sitting out the front of your house, enjoying the sun as you waited by the curb.

Chris got out of the car before you even noticed he was there, and you placed your hand over your eyes, shielding them from the sun as you gazed up at him. He stared down at you too, although his eyes darted all around the place, never quite settling in one spot.

“You got a haircut,” you said, the question barely evident in your tone.

Chris nodded, not quite bringing himself to say anything yet.

That’s when a bright smile lit up your entire face, and maybe it was the sun, which, from your perspective, gave Chris a halo, or maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t the sun. You were just blushing.

“Got it for you,” he managed to spit out.

Chris didn’t think he’d ever seen you blush before, or at least he hadn’t paid enough attention to notice. But the tint of your cheeks made it obvious, and if he never got any other sign of affection from you, that look, as you looked up at him, might just have been enough for him to carry on for the rest of his days.

The spell wasn’t even broken when you stood up, brushing off your denim-clothed ass—and, oh, how Chris wished he could help you with such a simple, intimate act. You were standing quite close to him, closer than you both had probably ever been, and you were still smiling. How was it possible that you were looking at him like that still?

Then, you reached out your hand, and took the tips which fell near his eyes between your fingers.

“It looks good,” you said, still smiling, and Chris watched as your eyes darted across his face now. He wondered whether you too didn’t know quite where to look now. 

He wished you’d look at his lips.

“Yeah?” he responded hoarsely, and the sound of his voice seemed to startle you out of whatever trance you’d been in. You dropped your hand from Chris’s face, and your eyes now seemed stuck to the ground.

Gently, without trying to force you, he picked up both your hands, his thumbs brushing over the back of them mindlessly. You glanced down as he moved your arms, following each limb’s movement. Chris placed your left forearm on his shoulder, so that your left hand naturally drifted down, hanging behind his neck. Then he let go of your right wrist, and you moved it by yourself, continuing to trace the strands of hair which fanned his face like you had before.

And then finally, your eyes met.

“I really like guys with short hair,” you told him, biting back a grin.

“I know,” Chris said, a smirk creeping onto his face. His eyes dipped to your bottom lip, before finding your eyes again. He did this several times, until he finally leant in, capturing your mouth with his own.

You sighed softly into the kiss, and Chris felt your hands tugging on the back and front of his head. The subtle pulls hurt his scalp in the best way, and he allowed himself to be pushed by you against his car. The kiss deepened then, and Chris felt it, how everything was shifting between you, and how you held him like you’d missed him.

When you finally pulled back, your breath catching, neither of you said anything at first. The air between you was still humming. Chris ran a hand through his hair out of habit—and your eyes followed the movement, soft and lingering.

“Was that okay?” he asked, voice low.

You nodded, thumb brushing his jaw. “More than okay.”

Chris smiled, quiet and full. “Let me get a redo, then,” he said, leaning in again.

dividers by @uzmacchiato ꨄ

a/n: kinda mid but enjoy lyric spam regardless: DO U MISS MY HANDS HANGING ON THE BACK OF YOUR NECK??? IT'S JUST SOMETHING I'M INTOOOOOO + YOU LOOKED AT ME DIFFERENT (IN THE MIDDLE OF, IN THE MIDDLE OF)~

thanks so much for reading!!!! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated 💌

[hearts4sturn]

hey.,, heh… lwk i’ve been lazy and haven’t written anything but trust i’ll try getting something out this week!!

[hearts4sturn]

IM GOING TO SOBBB tysm ur so sweet :(( 💗💗

blogs that you think need more recognition!!! spreading more kindness 💓💓💓

hiiiii sorry this took a while as i wanted to take my time with this!!! please go check all these blogs out, they deserve lots of love <3

@loverboysturn @backwardshatnick @ceyanabbiolo @sturniolotoast @mattsslutt @malsmind @likeumeanit9497 @chrisbratt333 @mattslilies @immaqulate @gigiii1sblog @yuh13lo @mi-co-uk @cayleeuhithinknott @sweetheartsturn @mattsdollie @angelyearner @cherrystainss @httpssturns @mattsstarlet @delilahsturniolo @angelicchris @sturnboos @strnilolover @sturnsflirt @onnawhim @darksturnz @chrisfawns @chrisstvrns @sirensdollesque @silverspringsstare @sturniqlo @55sturn @mattybsgroupie @hearts4sturn @vanteguccir @ifwdominicfike @stevielovesmatt @sturnsrecord

note- some of these blogs may be a little bigger but they do have some underrated aus/series which i think deserve way more hype!!!!! (also pls note that i think everyone is deserving of love and recognition on here, these are just some blogs that are on the smaller side in terms of notes and stuff, or just newer blogs!)

[hearts4sturn]

i need heartbreaking, heart wrenching, the one that makes you wanna cry type angst. right now.

[hearts4sturn]

you releasing the final part today means me binge reading caught in a lie from the beginning 🤭

LMFOAOAO i hope you’ll like it !!!

[hearts4sturn]

CAUGHT IN A LIE – MATT STURNIOLO

pairing: heartthrob!matt x fem!reader synopsis: y/n was forced to attend a fraternity party after losing a bet to her friend. she was awkward—never quite sure how to handle parties like this. when a guy (who clearly couldn’t take a hint) kept flirting with her, she found herself unable to say no. matt, thinking he was doing her a favor, stepped in and claimed they were dating. but word spread fast around the university, leaving them no choice but to keep up the lie. warnings: lowercase intended, angst, alcohol, mentions of sex

masterlist | series masterlist

TEN: REAL

slowly, over time, things started to shift—almost so gradually that i didn’t notice it at first. it wasn’t a sudden change or a sharp turning point. it was quieter than that, like a soft breeze sneaking through a cracked window, stirring the curtains in the middle of the night. it was subtle, like a whisper brushing the edge of my awareness, a gentle hum beneath the constant noise of everyday life. i didn’t realize it was happening until i looked back and saw how far we’d come without even noticing the steps we took to get here.

at first, it was just in the way the days started to feel less heavy. the air didn’t hang quite so still between us. the silences weren’t filled with tension anymore—they just… existed. like pauses in a song you already knew by heart. days blurred into weeks, then into months, and somehow, something inside that space between us began to shift. not in a loud, obvious way, but in a soft, almost invisible current. it moved slowly, quietly. like water working its way around stone—persistent, patient.

sometimes it was in the way his laugh came easier. sometimes it was in how i didn’t brace myself before speaking. little things. easy to miss unless you were paying attention. and for a while, i wasn’t. i was still holding on to old patterns, still tiptoeing around what we had and what we didn’t. but underneath it all, change was happening. like the first crack in the ice—barely noticeable, but a sign of something bigger coming.

matt started being around more. not just physically—though that too—but in this emotional, unmistakable way. he wasn’t just filling a space anymore. he was there. present. aware. and that presence started to shape the way i felt about us. it wasn’t like before, when he’d sit next to me and scroll through his phone like we were strangers passing time together. this time, there was something different in how he sat with me, in how his eyes lingered when he looked at me. it felt less like he was watching and more like he was seeing.

the shift was quiet, steady. it didn’t rush me, didn’t demand anything. it just waited. and over time, i stopped questioning it. i let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, something good was growing here—slow and fragile, but real. the way his eyes softened when i laughed, the way his hand brushed mine without pulling away. little things. the kind that feel small until they pile up and you realize you’ve built something without even knowing it.

the more time we spent together, the more those moments started to feel natural. comforting. like slipping into a familiar rhythm. we started going on dates—not the kind with expectations or pressure, but easy ones. coffee runs. walks through the park. evenings spent lying on a blanket in the quad, watching the clouds drift like slow-moving thoughts. they weren’t grand, but they didn’t have to be. they were enough. more than enough.

every shared moment felt like a stitch, pulling us closer together, binding us in quiet ways. the world outside could be chaotic, overwhelming, loud—but with him, it was still. we made time for each other in a world that constantly begged for our attention elsewhere. and that effort—that choice—meant everything.

i remember one night, after a long day of juggling classes and work and everything else, we ended up at that little diner near campus. the one that always smelled faintly of syrup and hash browns no matter the hour. the place was mostly empty, quiet except for the occasional clink of dishes and the low hum of music coming from the old jukebox in the corner. he ordered pancakes, like he always did, and i got a grilled cheese.

“you look tired,” he said, eyes soft as he watched me wrap my sweater sleeves over my hands.

“you too,” i replied, and it was the kind of tired that didn’t feel heavy. it felt shared. familiar. “but it’s nice. sitting here with you.”

he reached across the table, his fingers brushing mine before resting over them gently. “yeah. it’s like... no matter how crazy everything gets, this is our little calm.”

i squeezed his hand and repeated it back. “our calm.”

and somehow, that made the exhaustion feel less sharp. like just being there, with him, made the world a little easier to bear. it didn’t solve anything, didn’t erase the stress or the responsibilities or the uncertainty, but it made it all feel manageable. and for once, that was enough.

for the first time in a long time, i felt a kind of happiness that didn’t scare me. it wasn’t wild or overwhelming or dependent on some perfect moment. it was quiet. steady. like warmth in your chest that doesn’t flicker or fade. and it came not from some fantasy version of us, but from the real thing—the honest, imperfect, beautiful thing we were slowly becoming.

and then one afternoon, my phone buzzed.

come out let’s go to the park

no punctuation. just his voice in my head, casual and warm. i didn’t think twice. just grabbed my shoes, my bag, and stepped into the fading light of day. i called to eve over my shoulder—my roommate, my friend, the person who had seen me through all the tangled parts of this—and she called back something about being safe. and then i was out the door, heart full of something soft and electric.

matt was waiting outside, leaning against the wall like a scene from a movie, but so effortlessly real. he had flowers—my favorite kind, which i hadn’t even told him were my favorite. he just knew. or maybe he remembered from some passing moment i didn’t even think he’d noticed. that meant something. that felt like something.

“hey pretty girl,” he said, voice soft like velvet. like he was letting the words settle gently between us.

i smiled, fingers brushing the petals as he handed them over. they were pale, gentle colors—pinks and creams and soft yellows—and they looked like a promise. not a big one. not a loud one. but something sincere. something fragile and worth protecting.

we walked to the park together, steps syncing up like we’d done it a hundred times before. around us, the city softened. the world felt quieter. like it was stepping aside to make room for us.

as we walked, we didn’t say much. but the silence wasn’t empty. it was full of all the things we didn’t need to explain. full of memories and hopes and quiet things blooming in the spaces we once guarded so carefully. and i think that’s what made it so special—that feeling of ease, of home, of finally being understood without needing to speak.

and when we reached that familiar oak tree, with its arms wide open like it had been waiting for us, we sat. and matt spoke. slowly. carefully. like he didn’t want to mess it up.

he said he’d been thinking about us. about how he used to show up half-hearted and distracted. about how he wanted to do better. be better. not because he felt like he had to, but because he wanted to.

and then he led me to that coffee shop.

and then he asked.

and then i said yes.

and somehow, it all made sense. not because it was perfect. not because we’d figured everything out. but because we were here, together, finally turning the page. not on the end of something—but on the beginning.

after that moment—after i said yes, after his fingers wrapped gently around mine like they were holding something precious and fragile and maybe a little sacred—we just sat there. not needing to say anything else, not needing to fill the silence. it was the kind of quiet that felt full, like a deep breath after holding it in for too long. my heart was still fluttering, still catching up to everything, but i wasn’t afraid. i wasn’t waiting for the other shoe to drop. i just felt... calm.

it was strange, in a way. how something so simple could feel so huge. the cafe hadn’t changed—the same soft lighting, the same mix of chatter and steam and music—but everything inside me had. this little corner of the world, the place where we started pretending, had somehow become the place where we stopped. where we stopped pretending, stopped second-guessing, stopped waiting for things to fall apart. it was the same coffee shop, but everything felt new.

i rested my head against his shoulder, letting myself sink into the feeling of his arm around me. it was warm and solid and familiar in all the right ways. he smelled like coffee and the tiniest hint of pine from his cologne, the one i always noticed in the quietest moments—like now. i listened to the soft thud of his heartbeat against my cheek, steady and slow, like it had all the time in the world.

“so... what now?” i asked after a while, voice barely above a whisper, like i didn’t want to break the moment.

“now?” he repeated, and i could feel him smiling even before he said it. “now, we just live it. no pressure. just one day at a time. you and me.”

there was something about that—you and me—that hit me right in the chest. it sounded so simple. but it wasn’t. not really. it was the culmination of everything we’d been through, all the missteps and near misses, the misunderstandings and quiet hopes that never quite made it to the surface until now. and hearing him say it—out loud, clearly, without hesitation—felt like the final puzzle piece sliding into place.

we sat there for a while longer, sipping our drinks, saying little things that didn’t matter and everything that did. it felt like time had slowed down, like the world outside was on pause and we were tucked inside our own little pocket of stillness. i could’ve stayed there forever.

but eventually, we left the cafe. stepped back out into the evening air, hand in hand, walking slowly like neither of us wanted the day to end.

as we walked, matt told me stories. little ones, about his childhood, about weird facts he’d learned that week, about a dream he had once where we were old and living in a lighthouse by the sea. i laughed. he smiled. and something inside me—something that had been tightly coiled for a long time—finally let go.

“you know,” he said at one point, turning his head slightly toward me, “i used to think the idea of love was... scary. too big. like something people said when they didn’t know what else to say.”

“yeah?” i asked, my thumb brushing lightly over the back of his hand.

“yeah. but with you... it doesn’t feel big in a scary way. it just feels... right. like love doesn’t have to be fireworks all the time. maybe sometimes it’s just making each other laugh. showing up. listening.”

i nodded slowly, heart swelling. “maybe love is just... choosing someone. over and over. even on the hard days.”

“especially on the hard days,” he added, and i could feel the truth of it settle deep inside me.

by the time we got back to campus, the sky had darkened to that rich blue just before full night, when the stars begin to peek through one by one, timid and quiet like secrets. we didn’t want to say goodbye yet, so we found a bench tucked beneath a tree and sat close, knees touching, hands still laced together.

i looked over at him, watching the way the shadows played across his face, and for a moment i just let myself take him in. not as the boy who once pretended to date me. not as someone caught up in his own mess. but as the person he was becoming—steadier, kinder, softer in all the ways that mattered.

“you’re different now,” i said quietly, not as a judgment, but as an observation. “you feel... more open.”

he tilted his head. “i think i just stopped hiding,” he said. “from you. from myself. from what i actually wanted.”

“and what did you want?”

he looked at me then, really looked. “you.”

the way he said it—so simple, so certain—made my breath catch. not because it was dramatic or poetic or perfect. but because it was real. real in the way he always tried to be now. and in that moment, sitting on that quiet bench with the stars slowly unfolding above us, i felt like maybe everything really had led to this. maybe all the chaos and confusion had a point. maybe it was always meant to bring us here.

the weeks that followed felt different, but not in a loud or dramatic way. more like how a room feels warmer when the sun finally finds its way through the window. like something small has shifted, and everything else has started adjusting to it. our lives didn’t suddenly become perfect—classes were still demanding, work was still tiring, there were still days when we barely had time to eat, let alone sit down and talk—but now there was this thread between us, steady and golden, pulling us back to each other no matter how far the day stretched.

we didn’t fall into a routine so much as we built one slowly, piece by piece. we learned how to fold ourselves into each other’s lives without losing ourselves. some mornings, he’d bring me coffee before my 9am class, his hair still messy from sleep, eyes barely open but smiling. some nights, i’d curl up next to him in the common room, his hoodie wrapped around my shoulders as we passed his laptop back and forth picking a movie, half-watching while we talked through whatever had been sitting heavy on our minds.

we learned how to give each other space when we needed it, and how to ask for closeness without fear. if one of us was quiet, the other didn’t push—we waited, listened, sat in the silence together until it opened up and let the words come. it wasn’t always easy. sometimes we misread things, got a little impatient, let the stress of life leak into the cracks. but we always came back. always returned to the table, to the bench, to the tree, to each other.

it felt like we were building something small but strong. not a castle, not a fairytale, but a home—made of moments and choices and a thousand quiet kindnesses. made of shared blankets and forehead kisses and showing up when it mattered most.

there was one night, a few weeks in, when i found him sitting alone outside our dorm building, elbows resting on his knees, head tilted back to look at the stars.

“hey,” i said gently, stepping out into the cool night air.

he looked up at me, smiling tiredly. “hey. couldn’t sleep.”

i sat beside him without asking, letting the silence stretch for a while before i spoke again. “you okay?”

he nodded slowly. “yeah. just thinking about how easy it is to mess things up. how hard it is to really choose something good when you’ve spent so long expecting everything to fall apart.”

i reached over and slipped my hand into his. “but you chose it. you’re still choosing it.”

“i know,” he whispered. “and it scares me sometimes. how much i care. how real it all feels now.”

i leaned my head against his shoulder. “me too. but i think that’s what makes it worth it.”

he didn’t answer, but i felt him squeeze my hand just a little tighter.

after that, it became our thing—sitting out under the stars when the world felt too heavy. even if we didn’t say much, the sky seemed big enough to hold everything we couldn’t yet.

as time passed, people started to notice the difference in us. friends stopped asking if we were still “pretending.” they could tell, just by the way we moved around each other. the way he’d glance at me mid-conversation, like he was making sure i was still with him. the way i’d laugh more freely around him, like i didn’t need to hold anything back anymore.

eve teased us, of course. “you guys are disgustingly soft now,” she’d say, rolling her eyes with a smile that never quite reached annoyance. but i caught the way she looked at me when she thought i wasn’t paying attention. like she was proud of me. like maybe she’d been rooting for this all along.

and maybe we were soft. maybe we had become the kind of couple that lingers in doorways a little too long, that sends little messages in the middle of the day just to say “thinking of you.” but i didn’t mind. because for once, soft didn’t mean weak. it meant open. it meant safe.

i started journaling again. not because anything was wrong, but because i wanted to remember. wanted to write down the way he looked at me when he thought i was asleep, or the way his voice dropped when he told me something real. i wanted to hold onto the ordinary, because somehow that had become the most beautiful part of all this—that we could be ordinary together and still feel like something out of a story.

and on one particularly rainy afternoon, we were holed up in my dorm room, curled under a blanket while thunder rolled in the distance. matt was half-asleep, his head in my lap, the rhythm of the rain lulling him into stillness. i stared down at him, brushing my fingers through his hair slowly, and it hit me—this is what love looks like when no one’s watching.

no declarations, no sweeping moments. just this quiet kind of devotion. the kind that says: i see you. i choose you. not just today, but tomorrow, and the day after that, too.

he stirred slightly, eyes fluttering open. “you’re staring,” he murmured, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips.

“just thinking,” i whispered.

“about?”

i bent down and kissed his forehead gently. “about how glad i am that it’s real.”

he smiled, eyes still closed, voice soft. “me too.”

and that was it. no big ending. no fireworks. just two people choosing each other over and over, in a world that never stops spinning. and maybe that’s the most beautiful kind of love there is.

wc: 3.1k author's note — HELLOOO I CAN'T BELIEVE ITS ALREADY OVER ??? than you soso much for supporting this series!! dividers — @toastray

taglist: @courta13 @tits4matt @backwardshatnick @emely9274 @mattspillowprincess @oopsiedaisydeer @hi-people-who-are-alive @abijojo10

© HEARTS4STURN

[hearts4sturn]

“Sturniolo Tumblr is dead”

Y’all don’t interact with small/new creators 😂😂😂 So of course it’s dead when you just rotate the same 5 people. Tf.

[hearts4sturn]

OKOKOKOK MORE WAS POSTED

me waiting for @hearts4sturn to post the next part of caught in a lie 👅👅

[hearts4sturn]

CAUGHT IN A LIE – MATT STURNIOLO

pairing: heartthrob!matt x fem!reader synopsis: y/n was forced to attend a fraternity party after losing a bet to her friend. she was awkward—never quite sure how to handle parties like this. when a guy (who clearly couldn’t take a hint) kept flirting with her, she found herself unable to say no. matt, thinking he was doing her a favor, stepped in and claimed they were dating. but word spread fast around the university, leaving them no choice but to keep up the lie. warnings: lowercase intended, angst, alcohol, mentions of sex

masterlist | series masterlist

NINE: FIX

a week has passed since matt talked to me. it was awkward. i still saw him around—at the dining hall, outside the library, across the quad—but just saw, never spoke. he didn’t even look at me. or maybe he did, when i wasn’t looking. maybe he avoided me the same way i tried to avoid him, even though i kept hoping something would change.

i was walking out of my lecture, half-listening to the music in my headphones, half-thinking about whether i should grab coffee or just go back to my room, when i heard—

“y/n, wait—!”

his voice broke through the noise like it always did. the hallway was packed, full of people brushing past each other, laughing, shouting, half-lost in their own little worlds. but everything else faded when i heard him. like the world muted itself just for this moment.

i stopped walking.

i didn’t want to. every step away from him had felt like progress, like a slow and painful kind of healing. but somehow, just hearing my name in his voice made my chest tighten like it used to.

i turned around.

there he was. matt.

again.

he looked like hell. his shirt was wrinkled, his backpack half unzipped, a notebook sticking out at a weird angle. his hair was a mess like he’d run his hands through it a hundred times today, probably more. his breathing was uneven, like he’d chased me down the stairs, through the crowd, just to catch me before i could disappear again.

but it was his face that got me. that look.

that look that used to undo me.

the one that used to mean i love you without needing to say it out loud.

“matt,” i said, quieter this time. the word felt like it cracked somewhere on the way out. “don’t.”

“i have to,” he said, stepping closer. “i can’t just let you walk away again. not without—fuck—just, not without trying.”

i crossed my arms over my chest. it wasn’t confidence, it was armor. “you tried. and then you left. or pushed me away. or said something that made me feel like i was the problem. over and over again.”

he winced like my words hit something tender.

“i know. god, y/n, i know.” he ran a hand over his face, and for a second, he looked so tired. not just physically—emotionally. like someone who hadn’t slept properly in weeks. “i messed everything up. i know that. i didn’t know how to fix it, so i kept breaking it more. but i didn’t want to lose you.”

“then why did you keep hurting me?” i asked, my voice shaking. “if you didn’t want to lose me, why did you make it feel like i didn’t matter? like i was something you could throw away and come back to whenever it was convenient for you?”

his mouth opened, but nothing came out.

i felt the tears start to burn behind my eyes. i didn’t want to cry. not here. not in front of him. but god, i was so tired. tired of being strong. tired of pretending i didn’t care. tired of missing him and hating him at the same time.

“you made me feel small,” i said, each word hitting with more weight than the last. “like loving you meant shrinking parts of myself just to keep the peace. and even then, it still wasn’t enough.”

“it was never about you not being enough,” he said, voice thick. “it was me. i didn’t know how to let someone love me without... without ruining it. without ruining you.”

“then maybe you shouldn’t have loved me at all.”

silence. it stretched so long between us, it started to ache.

he took a slow step forward, not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel. “but i do love you,” he said, and his voice cracked in the middle. “i don’t know how not to. even when i was being the worst version of myself... you were still the best part of my life.”

i looked away, blinking fast.

“i don’t know if that’s enough anymore,” i whispered.

he nodded like he expected that. like he deserved it. “it shouldn’t be. you deserve more than just words and promises that fall apart. you deserve someone who shows up. who doesn’t let their own mess become yours.”

his voice dropped to almost nothing.

“i’m trying, y/n. i’m trying to be better. not just say it—be it. i’ve been going to therapy. i’ve been talking to someone about... everything. all the shit i never dealt with. i didn’t want to tell you until i knew i was really doing it for me, not just for you. but i want you to know.”

i blinked. that threw me. it cracked something in me i didn’t expect.

“you’re really going?” i asked.

he nodded. “every week. it’s hard. i hate it sometimes. but it’s helping. and it’s made me realize how much i hurt you. how much i never said sorry for the right way.”

i stared at him. at his eyes, red-rimmed and wet. at his hands, fidgeting, shaking slightly.

“say it, then,” i said.

he looked confused.

“say you’re sorry. not just for what you did. for what it did to me.”

he stepped closer, voice trembling. “i’m sorry i made you feel unloved. i’m sorry i made you question your worth. i’m sorry i didn’t show up when you needed me. i’m sorry for every time you cried alone because i didn’t know how to listen, or care the way you deserved.”

my bottom lip trembled. that stupid part of me—the one that still loved him—clawed its way to the surface.

“i don’t know if i can go back,” i said, voice barely a breath. “i don’t know if i can risk going through all of that again.”

“then we don’t go back,” he said, quickly. “we start over. from where we are. from who we are now. but only if you want to. only if there’s still a part of you that thinks maybe... maybe we’re not finished yet.”

i didn’t answer right away.

because the truth was, i did still love him. god, i wished i didn’t. but it was there, alive and aching in my chest.

but love wasn’t always enough. and i was still learning how to put myself first.

so i said, slowly, “i want to believe you. i really do. but this is your last chance. i mean it, matt. no more excuses. no more disappearing when things get hard.”

he nodded, eyes never leaving mine. “i swear. no more running. no more making you feel like you’re not everything to me. because you are, y/n. you always have been.”

and when he reached for my hand again, it felt different this time.

not like a promise.

like a beginning.

and for the first time in what felt like forever, i let myself hold on.

just a little.

just enough to see if maybe this time, we could get it right.

wc: 1.1k author's note — you should totally follow my tiktok @ matthevvsturn :D dividers — @toastray

taglist: @courta13 @tits4matt @backwardshatnick @emely9274 @mattspillowprincess @oopsiedaisydeer @hi-people-who-are-alive @abijojo10

© HEARTS4STURN

[hearts4sturn]

LMFAOOAOAOAO ITS POSTED NOW !!

me waiting for @hearts4sturn to post the next part of caught in a lie 👅👅

[hearts4sturn]

CAUGHT IN A LIE – MATT STURNIOLO

pairing: heartthrob!matt x fem!reader synopsis: y/n was forced to attend a fraternity party after losing a bet to her friend. she was awkward—never quite sure how to handle parties like this. when a guy (who clearly couldn’t take a hint) kept flirting with her, she found herself unable to say no. matt, thinking he was doing her a favor, stepped in and claimed they were dating. but word spread fast around the university, leaving them no choice but to keep up the lie. warnings: lowercase intended, angst, alcohol, mentions of sex

masterlist | series masterlist

EIGHT: PRETEND

it was over. and it hurt.

sure, it wasn’t a real break up, but it felt like it. it was just over.

we weren’t ever officially together—just pretending, just playing a part. it started as a joke, or maybe a favor, something harmless and temporary. but somewhere along the line, the lines blurred.

a lot of people came up to me after our “break up,” asking if we broke up. they said it with raised brows and curious smiles, like they were waiting for gossip.

they didn’t know that it wasn’t real. they didn’t know we were never actually a couple.

but more than that, they didn’t know that somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling fake to me. they didn’t know i started to mean it. every laugh, every glance, every time we held hands in front of people—it stopped being an act for me.

they didn’t see the way my chest tightened whenever they looked at someone else a little too long. or how i’d replay moments in my head, wondering if they felt even a fraction of what i did.

so no, it wasn’t real. not to them. not even to us, at first.

but it still ended. and it still hurts.

i wasn’t doing so well. crying in my bed had become part of my routine. the world felt too loud, too sharp, too full of reminders. and evelyn—sweet, persistent evelyn—was the only one who knew the truth. she was the only one who knew it was fake. the only one who saw me unraveling in slow motion.

“y/n, come on, let’s go out, hm? you need to get out of bed,” evelyn said gently, pulling back the corner of my blanket. she’d been trying to coax me out for the past week now. every morning, same question. same sad smile. same soft push.

“i don’t feel like it,” i mumbled, hiding my face deeper under the sheets. the light hurt my eyes. everything hurt.

“come on, y/n, you’re barely eating or drinking anything. and you’ve been missing your classes! which is so unlike you!” evelyn’s voice cracked just a little, frustration mixing with worry.

“eve, not now,” i said, voice flat and distant. i hated the way i sounded. like i wasn’t even there.

she sat down beside me, not saying anything at first. just sitting. just waiting. then, quietly, “y/n, come on, at least attend a class again? one class. just start there.”

i stayed quiet. the silence stretched between us like a wire, taut and heavy.

“you don’t have to pretend you’re okay,” she added. “but you can’t keep doing this to yourself. they weren’t real, y/n. but you are. your pain is.”

my throat tightened. tears welled up again, blurring the edges of everything. i hated how right she was. i hated that it mattered so much. that they mattered so much.

“i didn’t think it would hurt this bad,” i whispered.

evelyn didn’t say anything right away. she just reached out and held my hand.

“i know,” she said softly. “but that’s how you know it was real for you.”

i didn’t answer. i just let the tears fall, silent and slow, soaking into my pillow. she stayed with me the whole time. never rushed me. never told me to get over it. just held my hand like it was enough. and maybe, for that moment, it was.

the next morning, the sun was already up when i blinked awake. my head ached, my throat dry, but the weight in my chest felt just a little lighter—still there, but not crushing. evelyn was curled up in the chair by my desk, fast asleep in the most uncomfortable-looking position. she’d stayed the night again.

i sat up slowly. looked around at the mess—clothes on the floor, empty mugs on the desk, a box of tissues overturned on the nightstand. it was pathetic. i was pathetic. but i was also tired. tired of this version of me.

i got out of bed. for the first time in over a week, i stood up without immediately collapsing back down. it wasn’t graceful. my legs were stiff, my body sore. but i moved.

i grabbed the softest hoodie i owned and pulled on some leggings. looked in the mirror and grimaced at my reflection, but didn’t turn away this time. instead, i tied my hair back and splashed cold water on my face. it stung, but it helped.

evelyn stirred as i started brushing my teeth. she blinked at me sleepily, eyes widening when she realized what she was seeing.

“wait—are you…?”

i nodded, mouth full of toothpaste. “yeah. class.”

she blinked again, as if trying to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. “you’re serious?”

“don’t make it weird,” i muttered, rinsing my mouth.

she smiled so big it almost made me smile too. almost.

“okay, okay—i’ll go with you. let me grab my bag.”

we walked in silence to campus, the air crisp and cool. everything felt louder than usual—the birds, the chatter, even the sound of my shoes on the pavement. i felt like the world could see right through me, like everyone somehow knew what had happened even though no one did.

evelyn kept glancing over at me like she was proud, like she was afraid i'd turn around any second.

“you’re doing good,” she said quietly as we neared the building.

i didn’t reply, but i nodded. my stomach was a knot, but my feet kept moving.

when we got to the lecture hall, i hesitated at the door. for a moment, the thought of seeing them inside made my chest tighten all over again.

“you don’t have to talk to anyone,” evelyn whispered. “just go in. sit down. that’s all.”

so i did.

i walked in, heart pounding, and slid into a seat in the back. a few heads turned, surprised to see me, but no one said anything. and then, after a beat, the professor started talking.

i glanced around, scanning the room almost without meaning to—until my eyes landed on them.

they were here. two rows down. laughing at something someone said. they didn’t see me. or if they did, they didn’t react.

my throat burned. but i didn’t get up. i didn’t run. i stayed in my seat, staring down at my notebook.

evelyn slid into the seat next to me and gently nudged my elbow.

“you did it,” she whispered.

i didn’t feel proud. not yet. but i was here.

then, i felt my heart stop.

there he was. matt.

after a week of silence, of pretending i didn’t care, of avoiding every hallway and corner he might be in—there he was. sitting two rows ahead, like nothing had happened. like the world hadn’t split open beneath me.

his head turned, and his eyes landed on me.

and just like that, it was like the whole room faded. the lecture, the voices, even the sound of the pen i’d been fidgeting with—gone.

for a second, we just stared at each other.

his expression was unreadable. not cold, not warm, just… still. like he was trying to decide what to feel. like he didn’t expect to see me either.

and in that second, all the memories came rushing back. the fake smiles that stopped feeling fake. the way he’d laugh when i made fun of him. the way he looked at me when no one else was watching.

i remembered the way he used to wait for me after class, always leaning casually against the wall like he wasn’t checking his phone every two seconds to see if i was coming. i remembered the way he touched the small of my back when we walked through crowded places, like it was instinct.

and now he was just… sitting there. and i was just… supposed to breathe through it.

evelyn nudged me again, gently this time. “hey,” she whispered, leaning close, “just even pretend he isn’t here.”

pretend.

yeah. i should’ve been good at that by now.

i tore my gaze away, blinking hard as i looked back down at my notebook. my hands were trembling. i clenched them in my lap.

pretend.

like we used to do. like none of it ever mattered.

the professor kept talking, their voice far away and muffled. i forced myself to take notes, even though my handwriting was shaky and unreadable. i forced myself to focus on the slides, to pretend like i was here because i wanted to be, not because i needed to prove to myself i still could be.

after a while, i let out a breath i hadn’t realized i was holding.

i didn’t look at him again. not once.

but i felt his eyes on me a few times.

and god, i wanted to believe they meant something. i wanted to believe maybe he felt even a shred of what i was feeling.

but i couldn’t afford to want anything from him anymore.

so i sat there, shoulders tense, hands tight, pretending like i didn’t care.

pretending like he wasn’t in the same room.

pretending like my heart wasn’t breaking all over again.

and somehow, the class ended.

then class was over. i got up from my seat, evelyn following behind me. i saw matt from the corner of my eyes.

pretend like he wasn’t there, pretend.

and i walked past him, like we were strangers again.

but then i heard it–

a voice.

the same voice who used to call me “babe”.

the same voice who would laugh with me.

the same voice who ended everything.

“wait–y/n.” 

he said it quietly, almost like he wasn’t sure he should’ve. like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

i froze.

just for a second.

evelyn stopped beside me, her hand brushing my arm like she was ready to pull me away, ready to protect me from whatever this was. i didn’t look at her. i didn’t look at him either. i just stared straight ahead, like maybe if i stayed still enough, it would all disappear.

but it didn’t.

“y/n,” he said again, louder this time. firmer. more real.

i turned.

slowly.

he was standing now, a few feet away. eyes wide, nervous. like he hadn’t planned on saying anything but couldn’t help himself. like he’d been waiting for me to notice him, to say something, to do anything other than walk away.

i hated that my heart leapt at the sound of his voice. i hated that i still cared.

“can we talk?” he asked, voice lower now. unsure. like he could feel the wall i was trying to build brick by brick between us.

i opened my mouth. closed it again. there were too many words. none of them enough.

evelyn shifted beside me, her presence grounding, steady.

“you don’t have to,” she whispered, just for me. “you don’t owe him anything.”

and she was right.

but the part of me that hadn’t let go—the part that had cried for days and dreamed about things that never even happened—needed something. closure. answers. maybe just a final nail in the coffin.

so i nodded.

“just a minute,” i said quietly to evelyn.

she gave me a look. not angry. just concerned. but she nodded too, taking a step back.

matt walked a few paces away from the lecture hall, and i followed. the hallway was mostly empty now. just quiet echoes and the soft hum of vending machines.

he turned to face me, rubbing the back of his neck like he always did when he was nervous.

“i didn’t think you’d come today,” he said.

“i almost didn’t,” i replied.

silence stretched again. not angry this time. just… awkward. uncertain. like neither of us knew the rules anymore.

“i saw you,” he said after a moment. “i mean, in class. i saw you come in.”

“i figured.”

another beat.

“you look—” he stopped himself. “i mean, are you okay?”

it was such a stupid question. are you okay? no. i hadn’t been okay for days. weeks. i wasn’t sleeping. barely eating. i cried over a fake relationship that somehow meant everything.

but i just said, “i’m fine.”

he didn’t believe me. i could see it in his face. but he didn’t call me out on it.

“i didn’t know it meant that much to you,” he said finally. quietly.

i blinked.

“what?”

“us. the… pretending. i thought it was just for fun. like we agreed. a bit of a joke. it never felt serious—until…”

he didn’t finish. he didn’t have to.

“until it wasn’t a joke anymore,” i said.

he nodded slowly.

“i didn’t know how to say anything,” he admitted. “it got too real, and i panicked. i thought maybe you were still just… playing along. and i didn’t want to be the one who caught feelings for something fake.”

i swallowed hard. my hands were shaking again.

“so you ended it? like it was nothing?”

“i didn’t know what else to do,” he said. “i didn’t want to mess things up even more.”

“you already did,” i whispered.

he looked away, ashamed. “i know. and i’m sorry.”

there it was. the apology. the thing i thought i wanted.

but it didn’t fix anything.

“i just—” he looked back at me, eyes full of something i didn’t want to name. “i miss you.”

i looked at him. really looked at him.

the boy who used to smile at me like i was the only person in the room.

the boy who made me feel seen, even when we were pretending.

the boy who didn’t know how to love me back when it started to feel real.

“i miss you too,” i said honestly.

and it was the truth.

but missing someone doesn’t mean you go back. missing someone doesn’t erase the pain.

wc: 2.3k author's note — my back posture is SOOOO bad dividers — @toastray

taglist: @courta13 @tits4matt @backwardshatnick @emely9274 @mattspillowprincess @oopsiedaisydeer @hi-people-who-are-alive @abijojo10

© HEARTS4STURN

[hearts4sturn]

caught in a lie is so good

STOP YOURE SO SWEET 😭😭 it took me months to write (it’s prewritten lol) so im so glad you like it !!!

[hearts4sturn]

stray kids stan?? OMGG who is your bias?

YESSS!! my bias is hyunjin and lee know and i used to collect their pcs!! (i stopped recently though 💔💔)

[hearts4sturn]

CAUGHT IN A LIE – MATT STURNIOLO

pairing: heartthrob!matt x fem!reader synopsis: y/n was forced to attend a fraternity party after losing a bet to her friend. she was awkward—never quite sure how to handle parties like this. when a guy (who clearly couldn’t take a hint) kept flirting with her, she found herself unable to say no. matt, thinking he was doing her a favor, stepped in and claimed they were dating. but word spread fast around the university, leaving them no choice but to keep up the lie. warnings: lowercase intended, angst, alcohol, mentions of sex

masterlist | series masterlist

SEVEN: LOUD

things have been different ever since matt and i kissed.

not in a loud, obvious way—no fights, no dramatic fallouts, no explosive moments to point to and say, this is where everything changed. it’s quieter than that. subtler. the kind of quiet that creeps in slow, like fog rolling in over a city just before sunrise. at first, you don’t notice it. not really. but then suddenly, the world feels dimmer. harder to navigate. like maybe something got lost in the silence, and you didn’t even hear it slip away.

he’s been distant.

not in a casual, life-got-busy kind of way. not in a “school is hard and i’m stressed” kind of way. it’s more intentional than that. calculated. like every interaction is measured now. like he’s keeping score. like there’s this invisible tape measure stretched between us, and he’s the one deciding how many inches apart we stay.

it’s not how he used to be.

before, he was easy. not simple, just… easy to be around. effortless in a way that made me feel safe. understood. like i didn’t have to fight to be seen. he used to grin at me like i was something bright in his day. he’d bump into me on purpose, nudge my shoulder just to get a laugh, just to snap me out of my head when i was spiraling. and when we were quiet—which was often—it was never tense. it felt like breathing. like silence wasn’t empty, but full of something unspoken and kind.

but now? now the silence feels heavy. stiff. like a wall i don’t know how to climb.

he’s careful with me. careful in a way that doesn’t feel kind—it feels like avoidance. like he’s afraid of saying too much, or maybe afraid of what i might say if he lets me get too close. he looks at me like i might ask a question he doesn’t want to answer. like he’s rehearsed his lines, and he’s terrified of going off script.

and that’s the thing—he’s acting. i can tell. it’s in the way his smile falters half a second too early when no one’s watching. in how he withdraws the moment we’re alone, like something in him shuts off. like all of this—us, whatever “us” even is—was always temporary, and he’s just waiting for the clock to run out.

but that kiss.

that kiss didn’t feel temporary.

his fingers hovered near mine for a long moment before he let them touch—like he was asking a question without words. like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed, but he wanted to be. and the way he looked at me… his eyes kept flicking to my mouth like he was working up the nerve. like he wasn’t just following a plan, but deciding something real in real time.

and then the kiss itself—soft. hesitant. like he didn’t want to get it wrong. like it mattered.

it mattered to me.

it still does.

but now? now he can barely meet my eyes. now it feels like i’m some obligation he’s trying to escape. like he’s still here because he hasn’t figured out how to leave without making it messier. and when he does speak, it’s short. distant. like every word costs him something, and i’m the one who’s always overbudget.

except when we’re not alone.

when people are around, he slips back into the version of him i remember. he laughs at my jokes. he slings an arm over my shoulders like it’s second nature. sometimes he even tucks my hair behind my ear, and it makes my heart trip over itself every single time. because in those moments, i forget. i forget that it’s fake. that it’s for show. that it might have always been for show.

and the worst part is how easily i fall for it.

i hate that i still want it to be real. that part of me still holds on to the version of him that made me feel like i was more than just a role to play.

but i don’t know what’s real anymore.

i don’t know if the way he used to look at me was genuine or just good acting. i don’t know if the kiss meant something to him—or if it was just part of the lie. something he thought he had to do to make it all seem believable.

we haven’t talked about it.

i’ve thought about bringing it up. over and over. imagined the conversation a hundred different ways. but every time, the words get stuck. they pile up somewhere in my chest, heavy and sharp, and they never make it out. because i’m scared. scared that naming it will break it. scared that asking will mean hearing the truth. and what if the truth is that he regrets it? that he didn’t feel anything at all?

what if that kiss made him realize something he didn’t want to feel? or worse—made him realize he felt nothing?

and here’s what i haven’t said out loud. maybe not even to myself.

i liked him before the kiss.

not in a loud way. not in a way that made sense at the time. but it was there—quiet and steady, like something growing in the background, waiting to be noticed.

and now, even after all this… even after the silence and the pulling away and the ache of being treated like an afterthought… i think i like him more.

my phone buzzed.

i looked down. matt.

hey, let’s talk later?

my stomach flipped. my fingers hovered over the screen for too long before i managed to type:

when?

a few seconds passed. then:

meet me at the cafe in 20.

i stared at the message. like if i looked hard enough, i’d find some secret meaning. some clue about what kind of conversation this was going to be. but it was just words. flat and hollow.

i sighed. leaned back into the couch. something inside me tightened. not nerves. not excitement. something heavier. denser. like dread with teeth.

whatever this was, it didn’t feel like good news.

twenty minutes later, i was at the cafe. our usual table. the one near the window, with the chipped corner and the wobbly leg. i sat alone, shoulders hunched, picking at the skin around my nails like it might reveal something beneath. a truth. a reason. something.

outside, the world moved like it was stuck underwater. every sound was muffled. every motion slow. people passed by on the sidewalk, their laughter distant, unreal. i couldn’t tell if it was them or me who was out of sync. maybe both. maybe neither.

time stretched. pulled thin. warped like heat rising off pavement in the summer. everything felt slightly off. the coffee in my cup had cooled before i even realized i’d ordered it.

then he walked in.

no smile. no warmth. just a nod, casual and cold, like we were strangers meeting to finalize paperwork. he slid into the seat across from me with a kind of practiced ease that made my stomach twist. like he’d already rehearsed this.

“hey,” he said, voice low. unreadable.

“hey.”

and then silence. not the kind that rests. the kind that grows sharp edges. the kind that cuts. that stretches between two people like a wire pulled tight, just waiting to snap.

i looked at him, hoping maybe he’d say something else. anything. but he just sat there, hands folded, eyes on the table like it held all the answers.

finally, he said it.

“i think we should stop this.”

the words didn’t hit like thunder. no dramatic boom. just a quiet detonation. a soft, sudden collapse. like a breath i didn’t know i was holding had just been stolen.

“what?” i managed, though the word barely made it out. it sounded small. thinner than it should’ve been.

“the fake dating thing,” he said, eyes still refusing to meet mine. “i just… i don’t see the point anymore. i know we started this to get the girls off my ass, and for a while, it worked. but now? i don’t think it’s worth it.”

his voice was flat. detached. like this wasn’t about us, just about logistics. convenience.

i felt my mouth go dry. my heart beat louder, but slower, like it was being dragged through molasses.

“oh.”

just that. a single syllable, but it echoed. loud inside me. bouncing off the walls of everything i hadn’t said out loud.

i looked down. traced a line in the wood grain of the table with my fingertip. it was deep, splintered. had it always been there? maybe we had, too.

“so that’s it?” i asked quietly. “we just… stop?”

he looked up, just for a second. met my eyes, then looked away again. like it hurt to see me. or like it didn’t.

“i think it’s for the best.”

i nodded. not because i agreed. not because i understood. just because that’s what you do when someone hands you an ending you didn’t ask for. you nod, like it makes sense. like it’s fine. like it doesn’t rip through you in invisible ways.

i wanted to ask so many things. why it felt real, even when we both knew it wasn’t supposed to be. why he held my hand when no one was watching. why he kissed me like he didn’t want it to end. if he meant any of it. if he ever thinks about it now. if he ever thinks about me.

but i didn’t ask. because some questions only have answers that break you.

and what if the answer was no?

so instead, i said, “okay.”

and he nodded like that was enough. like it wrapped things up in a neat little bow. like that was all this ever was—just a phase, a favor, a storyline we played out for everyone else to see.

the silence returned, but now it pressed in. heavy. unbearable. we were two people sitting at a table, surrounded by the sounds of life—clinking mugs, quiet laughter, the soft churn of the espresso machine—but none of it touched us. we were somewhere else. nowhere.

eventually, he stood.

“i should go.”

i didn’t move. didn’t look at him. “yeah. okay.”

he hesitated, one hand on the back of his chair. like he wanted to say something else. maybe a goodbye that wasn’t so hollow. maybe a truth that wouldn’t come out. maybe just one more lie to make it easier.

but instead, he said, “take care, okay?”

and then he turned. walked out. no looking back.

i watched the door swing shut behind him. just sat there, hands wrapped around a mug that no longer felt warm. didn’t drink. didn’t cry. didn’t move.

just breathed. barely.

and that’s when it hit me.

this wasn’t just the end of a fake relationship. this was the end of something i couldn’t name. something real in all the wrong ways. something we never dared to talk about. something we built in silence and looks and the space between almosts.

and now it’s gone.

and i don’t know how to grieve something that was never official. never labeled. never claimed out loud.

how do you mourn a maybe?

how do you let go of something that never really belonged to you, but still felt like it lived in your chest?

i don’t know.

i just know there’s a quiet where his voice used to be. a missing shape in the air beside me. an echo of a kiss i’ll never be able to forget, no matter how fake it was supposed to be.

and a silence that’s louder than anything he could’ve said.

wc: 2k author's note — yuhh dividers — @toastray

taglist: @courta13 @tits4matt @backwardshatnick @emely9274 @mattspillowprincess @oopsiedaisydeer @hi-people-who-are-alive @abijojo10

© HEARTS4STURN