chris & matt sturniolo imagines

i hate that i love you.

Love.

Definition? An intense feeling of deep affection. When something brings you so much happiness that it fills your veins and pumps through your blood every second of every day.

Hate.

Definition? An intense feeling of dislike. When something brings you so much distaste that it fills your veins and pumps through your blood every second of every day.

But, there is a thin line between love and hate. A line so thin that even that most skilled funambulist has trouble finding his balance.

So what does it mean when you crave someone's attention, but hate them for every tear they've made you shed? What does it mean when you cry for someone's touch, but loathe them for ever making you crave it so intensely in the first place? What do you call that?

Hate or love?

My phone rang, I ignored it.

It rang again, I ignored it.

By the third phone call I was so annoyed with the fact I knew he would call a fourth time that I forced myself to answer.

"What do you want?" I asked, slight attitude in my words. It wasn't that I didn't want to hear his voice, it's the fact that I loved his voice so much that hearing it made my chest tighten.

"Just wanted to let you know I'm back in Boston," Chris informed, "If you care." He added, matching the attitude I had thrown at him.

"Do I care that the guy I've been on and off with for almost a year is back home?" I snapped, "No, not really. Thanks for informing me though, I'll be sure to cancel plans with your mom for the next month."

"Would you stop being like this? Don't ghost my mom just 'cause you hate me," I could tell he was rolling his eyes as he spoke. That's another thing I hated, the way I knew what facial expressions he was making even through the phone. I knew him so well that I could recognize his footsteps, hear his laugh in a sea full of people, know his voice in a line-up of a million.

"Let's just all hang out and sing hakuna-matata then. Sound like a plan to you?" If I didn't continue to give him the cold shoulder then history would repeat. He comes back to Boston, I fall in love all over again, then he goes back to LA and we act like the other doesn't exist for the next thirty days. I couldn't do it anymore. I was done and I needed him to let me go, because I wouldn't be able to do it myself.

"My god, Y/n," He groaned in frustration, "Drop the attitude and come over so we can watch Netflix. Are you hangry, is that what it is?"

"Actually had dinner a half hour ago, so no thanks. I'm good." I felt myself giving in, so I hung up the phone and threw it onto my bed. Of course, it immediately buzzed and I couldn't help but peek over and check it.

Chris
Still my girl even with your attitude

I let my body fall onto the mattress and knew, no matter how much I tried to fight it, that I'd end up in Chris' bed tonight watching movies as if nothing had ever happened. Like we don't fight twice a month every time he leaves and comes home.

"God dammit," I mumbled to myself and got off my bed. I slid my phone into my pocket, shoved some clothes into my backpack, then made my way to the front door.

I hated how much I loved being around him. I hated how much I loved his laugh and the way sleeping on his shoulder put me right to sleep. I hated how I couldn't stay mad at him for more than five minutes at a time.