Cut The Cameras - Matt Sturniolo
Youtuber!Matt and Videographer!Reader
Chapter 4
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warning this series will contain substance abuse, angst, arguing, tension, mentions of sex, smut, this is a warning for all chapters.
summary ~ When Y/N finds out her boyfriend of three years is cheating—with the girlfriend of the one person she can’t stand the most, Matt everything falls apart. That is, until Chris suggests the unthinkable, a PR relationship. But with cameras rolling, emotions spiraling, and lines blurring, pretending might just hurt more than the heartbreak.
Three days felt like a lifetime when you were counting the silence.
Not the loud kind — not screaming or fighting or begging. The quiet that settled in your bones. The kind that followed you from room to room, crawled into your chest at night, and pressed down until breathing felt like work.
Three days since the photos went public.
Three days since strangers decided she was someone’s girlfriend.
Three days since her phone stopped lighting up altogether.
Josh hadn’t said a word.
No apology.
No excuse.
No attempt to rewrite the ending.
Nothing.
At first, she told herself it was shock. That he was processing. That he’d reach out when he figured out what to say. That five years didn’t just evaporate overnight.
But the hours kept passing. Morning turned into night. Night into morning. And still nothing.
That was the part that hurt the most.
Not the cheating. Not even the humiliation. It was the ease with which he let her go. Like she’d been something he’d already packed away.
The triplets’ house felt too loud and too quiet all at once.
Cameras were set up. Lights were on. Nick paced back and forth with a coffee he’d already reheated twice. Chris was doing anything but what he was supposed to do. Normal chaos. Familiar chaos.
Y/N stood behind the camera, hands steady out of muscle memory alone.
Her head felt foggy. Heavy. Like someone had stuffed cotton behind her eyes.
Depression had always been like this — not dramatic, not cinematic. Just slow. Sneaky. A dull ache that told her she was failing even when she wasn’t. She used to think she beat it. That getting older meant growing out of it.
But depression didn’t disappear. It waited.
It came back in waves, and this one hit hard.
She’d wake up exhausted. Fall asleep more tired than when she woke. Her chest felt hollow, like something essential had been scooped out and never replaced. The future she’d built in her head, the one with stability, with rings and last names and a family that didn’t splinter had vanished overnight.
She could’ve broken the cycle.
That thought haunted her.
Nick clapped his hands. “Okay, intro. From the top. Let’s not fuck this one up.”
Chris grinned at the camera. “What’s up guys—”
“Cut,” Matt said.
Everyone froze.
“What now?” Nick groaned.
Matt’s eyes were on Y/N. Not angry. Not soft. Just focused. “She’s not recording.”
Her stomach dropped.
She looked down.
The red light was off.
“Fuck,” she muttered, flipping it on too fast. “Sorry.”
Nick tilted his head. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” she said automatically. “I’m fine.”
They tried again.
And again.
And again.
Nothing stuck. Missed lines. Bad framing. Dead air. Twenty minutes passed with barely anything usable. Y/N stared through the viewfinder like it might give her answers if she looked long enough.
“Y/N.”
She didn’t respond.
“Y/N,” Matt repeated, sharper this time, snapping his fingers inches from her face.
She flinched. “What?”
“You need to focus,” he said. “We’ve been doing this for twenty minutes and we have nothing.”
Something hot twisted in her chest.
“Maybe if you’d chill the fuck out—”
“I am chill,” he shot back. “You’re the one checked out.”
Chris stepped in quickly. “Alright, let’s all take a breath—”
“No,” she snapped. “I’m tired of everyone acting like I’m the problem.”
Matt laughed once, humorless. “Because you’re not exactly making it easy.”
That did it.
“You don’t get to talk to me like that,” she said, voice tight. “Not after the shit you pulled the other night.”
He stiffened. “I apologized.”
“Yeah, and?” she fired back. “That doesn’t magically erase it.”
Nick frowned. “Hey—”
Matt ignored him. “I owned my shit. You’re just lashing out.”
Her hands shook.
“Oh, fuck you,” she laughed bitterly. “You think you’ve owned anything? You storm around here like the world owes you sympathy.”
“At least I’m still showing up,” he snapped. “You’ve been useless all day.”
The word hit harder than she expected.
Useless.
Something old and ugly crawled up her throat.
“You think you’re better than me?” she yelled. “You’re just another emotionally stunted asshole who doesn’t know how to be alone.”
Matt’s eyes went dark. “You don’t know a fucking thing about me.”
“I know you push everyone away and call it being introverted,” she shot back. “I know you’d rather be miserable than vulnerable.”
“You jealous?” he asked quietly.
She laughed, tears burning. “Why would I be jealous of you?”
“Because my ex is blowing up my phone trying to come back,” he shot back, voice venomous. “And yours couldn’t even send a text.”
Silence.
Chris stepped forward. “Matt—”
“Shut up,” Y/N yelled, spinning on him. “Just shut the fuck up.”
Silence.
The room felt too small. Too tight.
Chris stepped between them. “Enough. Both of you.”
Y/N’s chest burned. Her vision blurred. She grabbed her bag with shaking hands.
“I can’t do this,” she said, voice breaking despite her effort. “I’m done.”
She slammed the door behind her hard enough to rattle the walls.
The drive was a blur.
She pulled into the nearest dispensary, sat in her car with the engine off, hands shaking as she lit the pre-roll. The smoke burned her throat. Grounded her just enough to feel everything all at once.
And then she broke.
Sobbed so hard she couldn’t breathe. Over Josh. Her future. The ring that never came. The life she almost had. The family she wanted to build because hers had always been cracked down the middle.
She cried for the version of herself that thought love could save her.
She cried because now she had nothing.
And for the first time in years, the wave didn’t feel like it was passing.
It felt like it was dragging her under.
a/n: Well.. It's been a while, but guess who finally had motivation to write at 5am.
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