♡︎ Matt Sturniolo Centric One-Shots ♡︎

Slapped {Chris & Matt}

They'd been face-to-face with one another, eyes glossed over in anger, Matt's nose scrunched in bitterness at what Chris had just spat at the brunette, Chris's fists clench at his side. Furling tighter by the second at every snide comment. Sharp words were exchanged back and forth between them, each one discarded unthinkingly, only intended to hurt. That didn't matter that they weren't thought out, that they were careless. He and Matt could regret and think of what was said later, maybe they'd even sit there and wallow in what they'd said long enough for them to apologize. Now though? Now wasn't the time, right now was the time for them to battle one another's never-waning anger. For pride, anger, and hurt feelings to keep the fight ongoing.

However, Chris was growing more and more fed up. Just the sight of Matt's face was pissing him off, every little inkling that made Matt who his brother was, whether it be the sarcasm, quick wit, or demeanor was proving to enrage him more.

Frankly, he's so irrationally frustrated that Chris doesn't even know what Matt says next that sets him off, it can't be any worse than what's already been said. Then what he's said. Matt takes a step forward.

Chris makes his mistake there, by allowing his emotions to take ahold of him, by letting himself succumb to the white-hot anger he feels. After seeing the results of doing so, Chris promises he'll never do as such again.

His clenched fists uncurl, his composure dying off the instant they do, Chris isn't thinking.

A slap resounds throughout the living room, one that was so fast and unexpected that it has Matt's face snapping to the side, Matt hadn't seen it coming. Evidently, neither had Chris despite being the one to deliver the hit. Previously, It'd been loud between them, noise heightening the more they'd argued. And now that's gone, Chris isn't one to say he misses the arguing but he thinks he hates the quiet more.
It's incredibly silent, too noiseless for his liking. There's a moment of numbness, of unbridled shock as they stand there. Where neither he nor Matt know how to react. Chris's eyes can only flicker down, he can only stare at his hand in surprise, feeling scorched at the fact that it'd made contact with his triplets skin.

His skin burns, and now the irritation resolutely fades, he thinks it did the moment he'd unthinkingly touched the other. It vanishes so fast, withering away into nothing to the point where he isn't even certain what they'd originally been arguing about, it doesn't seem to matter anymore, even what Matt had even said before he'd attacked the other doesn't stick in his brain.

He's left with pinpricks of emotion encompassing him at what he'd done, goosebumps forming along his skin. All as his blood chills.

He'd hit Matt, he'd smacked the kid across the face, holy shit, he'd just fucking hit the kid. Chris thinks, and the thought is relentless as it hounds at him. Good, it's probably what he deserves anyway.

Immediately regret pools inside of him, it crashes against his gut in waves. Anything he'd eaten that day churns in his stomach, even more so once he finally found the nerve to risk a peek at his brother's face. His heart thundered at Matt's shocked form, the elder stood there staring down at the floor, shaggy threads of hair shadowing his brother's complexion from him. Doesn't matter, he doesn't have to see it to know. Chris already knows one of Matt's hand cups where the triplet had been struck. Matt seemed frozen in place.

He tries to say something that'll change that his brother's face so he never has to see the expression again.

''...Matty,''

It's stupid. The nickname doesn't suddenly remedy anything, doesn't have Matt wanting to look at him. Because fuck, he'd screwed up.

His own shoulders sag dejectedly. And the worst part was that this wasn't even like all of the other times they'd jokingly hit one another. No, he'd actually struck the kid. Chris felt awful.