a forbidden love story staring nurse!matt & patient!reader
Rain lashed the windows of your small apartment, the kind of late autumn rain that turned Boston streets into tiny rivers and made every breath feel heavier. You’d been alone all evening. The TV murmured low in the background, some late night talk show you weren’t really watching, while the familiar ache in your chest had been building for days. You blamed the weather, grief and the endless fatigue. Then the pain sharpened sudden, crushing, like someone had driven a spike through your chest and the room spun. You fumbled for your phone and dialed 911 before it slipped from your now numb fingers. The dispatchers calm voice was the last clear thing your mind registered.
When you came back to conciseness the ambulance sirens screamed through the streets toward Massachusetts General Hospital, lights cut red and blue across the road. A female paramedic gripped the wheel, while her partner in the back whose name badge read 'Nate doe' relayed vitals over the radio.
“Twenty something year old female, collapsed at home. Severe dyspnea, central chest pain radiating to left arm and jaw. Known history of hypoplastic left heart syndrome. multiple palliative surgeries in childhood. O2 sats 80%, BP 86/52, pulse irregular. Back to Consciousness but deteriorating fast.”
The emergency bay doors hissed open. Paramedics wheeled you in under the blinding fluorescents. Doctor Nick Sturniolo was already there. tall, sleeves rolled to the elbows, eyes locked on the incoming stretcher. Shouting demands at nurses half of the words you didn’t even understand.
Nurse Matthew Sturniolo stepped in beside the gurney without hesitation, hands steady as he helped slide you onto the trauma bed. He clipped fresh telemetry leads across your chest, started a second IV in the crook of your elbow, adjusted the mask so it sealed properly over your nose and mouth. His movements were precise, unhurried even in the chaos. When your eyes cracked open for a second, he leaned in close enough for you to focus on his face through the fogged plastic.
“Hey,” he said quietly, voice steady against the overlapping shouts and beeps. “You’re at Mass General hospital. We’ve got you. Try to take slow breaths with the mask. nice and easy.”
You tried. Each inhale rattled in your lungs, pain bloomed with every heartbeat. Matt stayed right there one hand lightly steadying your shoulder while Nick ordered IV mixed with multiple different doses
From the unit desk just outside the bay curtain, Chris Sturniolo the unit manager watched the scene while updating the chart in real time. His fingers moved fast as he documented your admission. He glanced toward the bay, expression tight. “Nick’s on it, But this looks bad.” He muttered to no one in particular.
The next hours were a blur of tests and drips. The bedside beep of machines showed significant strain on an already fragile heart, fluid backup in the lungs, pressures climbing dangerously high. The team worked quickly. By the time the storm outside began to ease, you were stable enough to transfer from the trauma bay.
They moved you to a private room on the cardiac step down unit. A highflow nasal cannula switched to noninvasive ventilation when your breathing remained labored, IV drips running low and steady. Outside the window was just bushland and a river glittered under the lights, rain still tapping the glass in a soft, persistent rhythm.
Around 1:45 am. well past when most day shift staff had gone home. Matt appeared in the doorway. He’d changed into fresh navy scrubs, stethoscope still looped around his neck, chart under his arm. He knocked lightly on the open door. “Hey,” he said softly. “Mind if I come in? Just checking one last set of vitals before I head out.”
You gave a small nod. talking took too much air.
He stepped inside, moving with the same quiet focus he’d shown downstairs. First the monitors: heart rate, oxygen, blood pressure, He listened to your lungs the warm stethoscope bell gentle through your thin gown. He checked the IV sites, the dressings, the ventilation mask.
“Fluid’s starting to come off,” he said after a minute. “That’s helping the lungs a bit. Crackles are down from earlier.”
You swallowed, voice raspy. “Still… feels like drowning.”
He met your eyes. “We’re unloading as much as we can tonight. meds, ventilator, rest. Cardiology will round in the morning and go over the plan moving forward.”
You looked toward the dark window, rain streaking the glass. “Plan meaning… what happens next?”
Matt set the chart on the tray table and pulled the visitor chair closer, sitting so he wasn’t looming. He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees.
“We keep you comfortable,” he said quietly. “We manage the symptoms… the fluid, the pain, the shortness of breath as best we can. We adjust meds, monitor closely, make sure you’re not fighting this alone. Cardiology will talk through options tomorrow but right now tonight, the goal is getting you through this flare up and giving your heart a break.”
“There is one question I need before I leave though…” he spoke pulling out a pen from his pocket and clicking it placing it gently on his clipboard ready to write “we haven’t got an emergency contact listed yet?”
Tears welled you didn’t bother blinking them away this time. “I don’t have family. Parents lost custody when I was twelve haven’t seen them since. Grandparents raised me… they died six months ago. It’s just… me.”
Matt didn’t flinch or offer empty platitudes. He just nodded slowly and put the pen back away, like he was taking the weight of it in. “Then it’s you and the team,” he said simply. “ Chris at the desk and doctor nick.. they are my brothers. They will be here for you just like I am Nate too whenever he drops off the next admit. The palliative folks, the social workers, everyone here. You’re not facing this by yourself.”
He stayed a minute longer. making sure your call bell was clipped to the bed sheet within easy reach, adjusting the blanket over your legs so it didn’t pull on any machine wires.
“If breathing gets harder, pain spikes, or you just need someone… hit the big green button.”
As he stood to leave, two night nurses passed the doorway, one pausing with a teasing smile. “Matt, you’re still here? Shift ended ages ago.”
He gave a polite half nod. “Finishing up. Goodnight ladies.”
“Wait you can come for a meal run with us real quickly?”
“No sorry.. early start tomorrow. Maybe next time tho” he spoke firmly. The nurses continued down the hall. Matt glanced back at you once, a quick smile. then stepped out.
At the desk, Chris looked up from his screen as Matt passed. “I thought you clocked out thirty minutes ago?.”
Matt shrugged, signing off the vitals entry. “That new girl…. She’s alone. no family, no one to call. Didn’t want to leave without making sure she was settled in for the night.”
Chris studied him for a long second. “You’re always thorough. This one’s different, though.”
Matt didn’t reply just slung his bag over his shoulder and headed for the elevators. In your room, the ventilator hissed, the monitor beeped soft and steady for now. You stared at the ceiling, chest rising and falling under the thin blanket, the weight of uncertainty settling quietly. But for the first time since everything started unraveling… you felt like you belonged.
Tags: @riasturns @chrissbxby @sturnobessed @tits4matt @sturn1uver @courta13 @chrisissos3xy @sturnobessed @mattschelseaa @norahsturns @oopsiedaisydeer @mattswrinkleton @hesvoid34 @sturnslux3 @phone4pills @owenstar @luvsturns @nickssidewitch @ariieeesworld @babyt0matoes @sturniolo-tease @jbieve04 @midnightwiththedead @mattspuppy @matts1989 @lolaslolli @mattysbunny @mattsnight14 @voidsturnz @bendmeoverchris @jenna0rtegaswife @ivysturnss @sturnioloforever03 @icravechratt @sturn-slut @tiffsturns
