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sunrisemill · 3 days ago

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Did you just stab me???

SPIRALING DEPRESSION

Loser!Matt X Popular!Reader

—

Matt had never been the way he was being right now with you. He had never been this sad in his life. Usually, he wouldn’t give two fucks about girls. It was just how he was — careless, nonchalant, always the first one to stop caring. But you? You were different. You weren’t just some girl who would fade out of his life after a couple months. You were it. You were the thing he thought about when he woke up and the thing he wished he could dream about when he went to sleep. Losing you felt like the entire world dropped out from under him, like he couldn’t breathe right anymore, like nothing even mattered.

He didn’t go to school for a couple of days. Didn’t text anyone back. Barely even touched his phone except to scroll mindlessly until he felt sick. He didn’t leave his room. Didn’t eat. Didn’t even get up to shower. The only thing he did was smoke — over and over and over again until the air in his room was thick and heavy and the walls practically dripped with the smell of weed. His sheets smelled like it, his hair, his skin. It was all he could do to feel anything, even if it just made him feel worse afterward.

Nick would sometimes knock on his door, trying to sound casual, but he always ended up getting frustrated when Matt wouldn’t answer.

“Dude, seriously? Get your fucking act together,” Nick said one afternoon, standing with his arms crossed, his face twisted in a mix of worry and irritation. “You’re gonna ruin yourself over this shit? Over her?”

Matt didn’t even look at him. Just pulled the blanket further over his head, mumbling something that didn’t even make sense.

Chris handled it differently. He would sneak in quietly, set a plate of food down on Matt’s desk, and sit there for a while without saying anything. Then eventually, when Matt still wouldn’t move, Chris would sigh and come sit on the edge of the bed, nudging his shoulder gently.

“C’mon, Matt… please?” Chris said one night, his voice soft like he was talking to a little kid. “You gotta eat, bro. You’re scaring us.”

Matt shook his head, sinking deeper into the mattress, his voice hoarse and low.

“M’not hungry…”

Chris stayed sitting there for a minute longer, staring down at his brother, not knowing what else to say. What could he even say? That it was gonna get better? That Matt would forget about you? They both knew it would be a lie.

Matt didn’t want to forget you.

He just wanted you back.

And it was eating him alive.

Chris sat there quietly for a while, not moving, not saying anything else. He kept glancing at Matt out of the corner of his eye, his heart sinking with every second that passed. It wasn’t like Matt to shut down like this. Yeah, he could be distant, closed off — but never like this. Never so completely… gone.

Finally, Chris shifted closer, carefully lifting the blanket and sliding under it next to Matt like they were little kids again. He didn’t say anything at first, just laid there, wrapping an arm around Matt’s shoulders, pulling him close. Matt stiffened for a second, like he was embarrassed, but he didn’t pull away. He just let Chris hold him.

Chris tightened his hold slightly, resting his chin lightly on Matt’s head.

“You’re allowed to not be okay, you know…” Chris murmured, his voice so soft it barely made it over the sound of Matt’s shaky breathing. “You don’t gotta pretend with me.”

Matt didn’t answer.

He didn’t even nod.

He just laid there, eyes burning, throat tight, chest heavy like he couldn’t get enough air no matter how hard he tried.

Chris squeezed him a little tighter, trying to get something out of him — a word, a sound, anything.

“Talk to me, Matty,” he whispered. “Please, man. Just… say something.”

But Matt couldn’t.

He couldn’t even move.

It felt like if he opened his mouth, he would just start crying and he wouldn’t be able to stop. It felt like if he let himself speak, he would fall apart completely, and maybe he wouldn’t ever be able to put himself back together again. He was so tired. So angry. So heartbroken. It all just sat in his chest like concrete, heavy and cold.

Chris felt him trembling a little, felt how tense he was, and it made his stomach twist painfully.

“You don’t have to fix it all right now, okay?” Chris whispered. “You just gotta let someone be there for you.”

Still, Matt stayed silent, his hands fisting the blanket tightly. His jaw was clenched so hard it hurt. His heart was pounding in his ears. He wasn’t okay.

And he didn’t know how to be anymore.

Chris stayed.

Held him tighter.

And didn’t leave.

Later that night, Chris sat on the edge of his bed, his phone burning a hole in his hand. He kept thinking about Matt — the way he barely moved, barely breathed. It made him sick. It made him angry. He didn’t even care if it wasn’t his place. He couldn’t watch Matt be ripped apart like this and stay quiet.

His fingers moved faster than his brain could catch up.

He opened your contact and started typing.

He didn’t even stop to think.

Chris: “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

He barely gave you time to respond before another text came flying through.

Chris: “You think it’s funny? You think it’s cute how you broke him?”

Chris: “You have NO idea how bad he’s been. He’s not eating. He’s not sleeping. He’s not even talking.”

His hands were shaking with how pissed off he was.

Chris: “You don’t even care. You’re so wrapped up in that fake piece of shit you don’t even see what you did to him.”

Chris: “He would’ve given you the world and you picked that!?”

He took a second, breathing hard, seeing the little “typing…” bubble pop up for a second — but he didn’t care what you were going to say. He wasn’t done.

Chris: “He’s fucking broken. Because of you.”

Chris: “And what’s sad is he STILL would probably take you back.”

He tossed his phone on the bed, running his hands through his hair, pacing because he couldn’t sit still. His stomach twisted up in knots, guilt biting at him but anger pushing harder.

Because Matt didn’t deserve this.

Not even a little bit.

And if no one else was gonna say it, Chris would.

Your hands were trembling as you read the messages. Every single word felt like it was slicing straight through your chest. You couldn’t even breathe properly, your heart hammering against your ribs. Without even thinking, you typed back fast, your fingers shaking.

You: “chris pls let me come over. please.”

There was no hesitation in his response.

Chris: “No.”

Just one word. Cold. Harsh. It made your stomach drop. Your throat tightened as you typed again.

You: “please. i’m begging you. i never meant for it to be this way.”

You: “i didn’t know he was hurting this bad. i didn’t know.”

You: “please chris. i need to see him. please.”

You stared at the screen, willing him to answer. Every second felt like it stretched on forever. You wiped your eyes harshly, holding your breath — until finally, three little dots appeared.

Chris: “Fine.”

Chris: “But if you come over and make it worse, i’m kicking you the fuck out. i’m serious.”

You didn’t even wait to respond. You grabbed your shoes, slipped them on with fumbling hands, and practically ran out the door.

Your mind was spinning the whole way there.

You didn’t know what you were going to say.

You didn’t even know if Matt would want to see you.

But you had to try.

You had to fix this.

Somehow.

You barely even knocked on the front door before Chris was yanking it open. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t even look at you. He just jerked his thumb toward the stairs, his face hard and tired.

You whispered a tiny, “Thank you,” but he didn’t respond.

You didn’t expect him to.

Your legs felt like they were made of lead as you climbed the stairs. Every step felt heavier, slower, the air thicker. When you got to Matt’s door, your heart just about broke. It was cracked open a sliver, just enough to see the dim light spilling out from inside, and you could hear the faint sound of music playing from his phone. Something soft and low and sad.

You pushed it open a little more.

There he was.

Curled up in his bed, hoodie pulled up over his head, blanket wrapped around him like a shield. His whole room smelled like weed and sadness. His back was facing you. He didn’t even turn around. He must’ve thought it was Chris again.

You swallowed hard, blinking back tears.

You took a slow, tiny step inside.

Your voice barely came out.

“Matt…?” you whispered, so gentle, so soft, like you were scared you might break him even more if you spoke too loud.

He froze. His whole body stiffened under the blanket.

Slowly, so slowly, he peeked his head out from under his hood, his red puffy eyes meeting yours.

The second he saw you, everything just dropped. His tough guy act, his anger, his walls — it all crumbled in one second.

His lip trembled just a little. His chest rose and fell in a shaky breath. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

You crossed the room without thinking, barely giving him a second to stop you. You sat down right beside him, your hands so, so careful, so delicate, like touching him wrong might shatter him completely.

You brushed your fingertips against his sleeve, a question in your touch.

He answered without words — he grabbed onto you.

Desperately.

Like he couldn’t believe you were real.

Like if he let go, you might disappear.

Matt buried his face into your shoulder, dragging you into him like he needed you to breathe, like your presence alone could fix the giant hole in his chest. His hands fisted the back of your hoodie tightly, squeezing you against him like he was scared you’d run.

You could feel how fast his heart was beating. How tense he still was.

You whispered against his ear, “I’m here, Matt… I’m here, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

He let out the tiniest, broken noise. His arms wrapped around you even tighter, his nose nudging into the side of your neck, breathing you in like you were oxygen.

“I missed you,” he mumbled, voice raw and hoarse. “Missed you so much. Needed you…”

You just held him, your fingers tangling into his hair, gentle and slow.

You didn’t tell him it was going to be okay — because you didn’t know if it would be.

You just let him cling to you.

And that was enough.

You sat with him like that for a while — no words, just quiet breathing, the weight of everything between you pressing down but not crushing you yet.

Eventually, you felt him start to shake a little.

It wasn’t from crying.

It was weakness.

You pulled back just enough to see his face — pale, drained, his eyes barely staying open. Your heart twisted painfully.

“Matty…” you whispered, brushing the hair out of his eyes, “you need to eat something.”

He immediately shook his head, stubborn, like a little kid.

“M’not hungry,” he rasped, voice scratchy from days of barely talking. He buried his face back into your neck like he could hide from the world there.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding him tighter.

“Please? For me?” you murmured, your voice so gentle it almost didn’t even sound like yours.

He hesitated.

You felt the way his body sagged, the smallest bit of his fight leaving him.

Finally, with a tiny, reluctant nod, he gave in.

You kissed the top of his head softly, whispering, “Good boy…”

He blushed, hiding even further into you, but he let you tug him out of bed.

You kept your hand laced with his as you led him downstairs, slow and careful, like he was made of glass. Chris and Nick watched from the living room but didn’t say anything — they just exchanged a look. Relief, maybe.

You grabbed a bowl of fruit, the softest thing you could find, and sat him down at the table. You knelt in front of him, holding up a piece to his mouth like you were taking care of a patient.

Matt gave you this tiny, almost embarrassed glance — but he opened his mouth and let you feed him.

“Good,” you whispered, smiling softly.

You fed him slowly, piece by piece.

Every time he chewed, you whispered little praises under your breath.

“You’re doing so good, Matty…”

“I’m so proud of you, baby…”

“Almost done, okay?”

When he finished, you kissed his hand and smiled up at him, and for the first time in days, his eyes didn’t look so completely dead.

—

Later, you helped him back upstairs.

You could tell he still felt gross and heavy, his skin clammy, his clothes reeking of smoke and sadness.

Without thinking, you whispered, “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

He blinked down at you, confused — like he wasn’t sure if you were serious.

But when you tugged him gently into the bathroom and turned the shower on warm, he didn’t fight you.

He just stood there, staring at you with wide, exhausted eyes.

You helped him pull off his hoodie, your fingers delicate, like you were undressing something fragile. His shirt next.

You glanced up at him — he looked almost shy, almost vulnerable in a way you had never seen him before.

You smiled sweetly, stepping back a little. “Go ahead, baby. I’ll wait right here.”

Matt nodded, stepping into the shower. The second the warm water hit him, he sagged against the wall, like he could finally breathe.

You sat on the floor outside the tub, leaning your back against the door, talking softly to him the whole time so he wouldn’t feel alone.

When he got out, you wrapped a towel around his shoulders and dried his hair carefully with another.

He didn’t stop looking at you the whole time — his eyes wide, almost glassy with emotion.

“You’re so good to me,” he mumbled, voice breaking.

You cupped his face in your hands, thumbs brushing his cheeks.

“You deserve someone being good to you, Matty,” you whispered back.

He leaned into your touch like he needed it to survive.

After you finished drying him off, you knelt there for a second, just holding the towel around his shoulders, breathing with him. He looked better already — the warmth back in his skin, the slight pink on his cheeks from the steam.

You stood up carefully, grabbing one of his hoodies from his dresser — an old faded one that you knew was his favorite — and a pair of clean sweats. You turned back to him, smiling softly.

“C’mere,” you whispered.

Matt obeyed without a single word, stepping closer to you like he was in a trance. You helped him into his clothes, your fingers brushing against his skin in the softest, most careful touches. Every time he flinched or shivered, you would just pause, rubbing small circles into his arms until he relaxed again.

Once he was dressed, you tucked him gently back into bed like he was something precious.

But you didn’t stop there.

You looked around the room, your heart sinking at the state of it — the overwhelming smell of smoke, the mess, the thick heaviness in the air.

Without needing to be asked, you cracked open the window, letting fresh air in.

You found an old candle on his desk, lit it, and placed it on his nightstand.

You picked up the empty bottles, the dirty clothes, quietly making the room feel livable again — a safe place instead of a graveyard.

Matt just laid there watching you, eyes glassy, chest rising and falling slowly under the clean hoodie.

“You didn’t have to do that…” he rasped out when you finally sat back down on the bed.

You just smiled at him, brushing his damp hair out of his eyes.

“I wanted to,” you whispered.

For a second, it felt okay.

Better.

Like maybe — maybe — everything could be okay again.

But then Matt spoke again, his voice small and shaky.

“I don’t trust him,” he mumbled, almost like he was scared to say it out loud. “Noah. I swear, Y/N…he’s not who you think he is.”

You felt your heart tighten.

You hated seeing him like this — so broken, so worried — but you also knew how messy everything was, how complicated.

You reached out, squeezing his hand softly.

“Matt,” you said gently, “I know you’re just trying to protect me. I get it, I do. But…Noah’s been good to me.”

Matt’s jaw tightened, his whole body going tense.

“I swear to God, if he hurts you—”

“He won’t,” you interrupted, voice still soft but firm. “Please…please just trust me on this, okay?”

He looked like he wanted to argue — so badly — but when he saw the look in your eyes, something in him just crumbled.

He nodded stiffly, looking away, biting at his lip to keep the words in.

You crawled back into bed next to him, pulling the covers up around both of you.

Without even thinking, Matt wrapped his arms around you, holding you against his chest like you were the only thing keeping him from falling apart again.

And you let him.

Because you needed him too, more than you wanted to admit.

—

A/N- Her calling him baby makes me wanna die even tho i wrote it.

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