Some people spent their whole lives searching for the kind of love people write books about.

Matt never had to.

By the time he was twenty-three, he’d already spent most of his life loving Y/N.

Growing up together meant there wasn’t a single version of either of them that the other hadn’t known. Awkward school photos. First heartbreaks. Late-night phone calls. Family holidays that blurred together until nobody remembered whose parents had planned them. Somewhere between scraped knees and stolen hoodies, childhood best friends became high school sweethearts, and somehow, they never looked back.

Los Angeles had changed almost everything around them.

Just... not them.

Matt Sturniolo was impossible to miss. Soft brown hair that never stayed in place, sharp waterline eyeliner, silver rings decorating nearly every finger, layered chains resting against faded band tees, and an arm full of tattoos that seemed to multiply every few months. As one-third of the Sturniolo triplets alongside Nick and Chris, his life was loud by default. Millions of people watched the brothers online, chaos followed them wherever they went, and somehow Matt still managed to be the quietest of the three.

Quiet didn’t mean calm.

He laughed until he couldn’t breathe, argued over absolutely nothing, started wrestling matches in the living room for no reason, and somehow ended up in the middle of every bit of chaos his brothers created. But when everything settled, when cameras switched off and the house finally fell silent, he’d disappear with a notebook balanced on his knee or convince Y/N to come with him on another pointless midnight drive through the California hills. He liked empty roads, old music, and stories that lived inside his head long before they ever reached paper.

Y/N knew every version of him.

The loud one.

The quiet one.

The overthinking one.

The one who reached for her hand without even realizing he was doing it.

She’d grown up alongside all three triplets, becoming as much a part of their family as they were hers. Nick treated her like another sibling, Chris was her partner in every terrible idea imaginable, and viewers had long accepted that every other video would somehow include Y/N sitting in the backseat, stealing fries, laughing until she cried, or telling the boys they were being dramatic.

No one questioned why she was always there.

She belonged there.

She belonged with Matt.

Their relationship was the kind people rolled their eyes at because it seemed almost unreal. Gentle touches. Forehead kisses. Sleeves intertwined while walking. Matt instinctively pulling her closer whenever crowds became too much. Quiet “I love you”s whispered like they were the most normal words in the world.

It was soft.

Safe.

Disgustingly sweet.

And if anyone so much as looked at Y/N with anything less than respect, Matt didn’t need to raise his voice for people to understand they’d crossed a line. Beneath his quiet nature lived an unwavering protectiveness that never faltered. He’d never let the world be unkind to the person he loved most—not if he could help it.

To everyone else, they were the internet’s favourite couple.

To Matt, she was simply home.

And to Y/N...

He always would be.