The fight has been ugly for the past few months, ever since Toji lands a job that he promises will pay him handsomely.
He never smiles this wide while talking about his job, cradling Megumi at his side, rocking him to sleep back and forth as he rambles how the work will get him more than before and you will have a better lifestyle, no need to worry whether you have to scrap the leftover anymore.
Even though he never keeps his promise. He’s the man of action anyway.
The first month of his job, he always fails to come home early, having a dinner with you and Megumi. No message, no answer when you call him to ask if he’s gonna make it to dinner like he “promised” or not.
And the second month of the job, the bruises, blood never leave his mouth. He coughs once as he leans against the wall, weakly. Hand presses on his waist to keep the wound out from the air. He hisses, head thrown back to the wall, his eyes crinkle in pain.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry. Just take care of Megumi.”
You don’t know how much you have spend the money on meds, bandages, iodine to treat his open wound. You can’t remember. You only remember: he always comes home, bleeding profusely and new scar forms on top of the old one.
It starts with something small.
You try to have him sit down on his off day, grabbing his hand to have him look at you. Eyes almost pleading as you croak a word between sobs. “You need to stop this job. It’s hurting you, Toji.”
But of course, he sees this as a threat.
All of a sudden, he snatches his hand from your grip, rising to his feet before the once loving expression turns into a cold, dead one. “You don’t get to talk about anything. I’m the one who works this hard to have this house moving. To have the fucking bill running so you can live peacefully while I shed tears and blood, not knowing if I would be alive to come home to both of you.”
He scoffs, running his hand through his hair, walking back and forth as if the situation is too much for him to handle but—
“You don’t realize this,” you say, voice shaking as you rise from your seat. “You’re hurting our family too! I don’t give a fuck about your job.”
You grab his arms, turning him to face you. Cupping his face, pressing your forehead to his. Sobbing. Hurting. “You’re hurting Megumi too, Toji. He needs his father. He needs you in his life. Please, baby. I—” your voice breaks. “There’s no warmth in this family after you got the job. It’s killing us.”
Your brow furrows, fingers grasping his cheeks tightly, forcing him to realise this is not working.
You lift your forehead from his.
Confusion is written all over your face, tears streaking your cheeks. The sight makes Toji’s heart clench but he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t want you to win.
“W-what do you mean? L-leave?”
His voice is too calm. Too peaceful. As if he doesn’t shatter your heart into pieces when he utters those words.
Your hands drop to your side. The movement is weak. Lifeless — like you’re already giving up in this relationship. “I give my everything to keep this house alive too… Megumi… He—”
“He’s my son. Not yours. You’re not his real mother, Y/N.” He grabs your shoulder, shaking you with every word, as if his sentence is final, waking you up from the reality that no one ever wants you.
“B-but… it was real to me.”
“Everything is real in your fairytale, darling.” He chuckles, mocking, lips parting to speak again but you stop him. Raising your hand between you, lips stammering.
“Y-you’re right. I’m too delusional. I keep grasping something that’s not real to make a fairytale dream achieve. I— you’re absolutely right.”
With that, you withdraw from his grip.
Dragging your feet weakly to the bedroom, leaving Toji alone in the living room, letting him feel the satisfaction of making the family crumble. Again.
You don’t know whether to stay or leave anymore.
But seeing how Toji doesn’t even glance at your direction anymore, back turned when you sleep together. Less time spent with Megumi. No dinner together. No yelling but the silence always kills you.
This is your cue to leave.
Your presence isn’t appreciated anymore by anyone in this house. Not even the man you love the most.
You feel like an outcast in the house you once call home.
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