-cw: reader has health issues
Overdue. Overdue. Overdue. They all bore into you with their bright, red letters. Each letter urges payment, warns of dire consequence, all topped with the same name: Kita Shinsuke.
It takes three reads through for the information to feel real. Credit cards, doctor's bills, the fucking house- all of it spread across the tiny, oak desk in Kita's office, tucked away where he didn't want you to see.
The door creaks open and you whip around, no longer afraid of being caught.
Kita takes a breath, so deep and sudden that his shoulders bounce up, but he lets it go slowly. His expression returns to its usual placid self, if not a bit more crinkled at the eyes. In two steps, he's to you, swiping away the evidence of his wrongdoing.
"I told you not to look through that, darlin'." His voice is soft, uplifted, like your lives aren't on the brink of collapse. "You don't gotta worry about that."
"Worry? Worry? This is--" Your own breath is much, much shakier. "Shinsuke, this is-- this is bad."
He tucks the envelopes back to where you found them and you can't help but notice a quiver in his hands. Shinsuke, your Shinsuke, unflappable, stable Shinsuke, is shaking.
"It just wasn't a good season." His smile never falters. "Things will be better after the next harvest."
"We're going to lose the house-"
"Darlin'." He holds his hands up, palms to you. "It's okay."
It's not. Your mind is already racing; it's your fault, of course. When your physical and mental health declined, Shinsuke had offered to be the sole provider. When you accepted, you hadn't thought it would be putting such a strain on him, but, looking back... the medical bills, the medications: none of it is cheap.
He cuts you off. "Don't."
But you're already halfway out the door.
"I'm canceling my doctor's appointments-" Your cellphone is on the kitchen table and you're at the top of the stairs. "We can't afford this-"
Kita stops you with a hand around your wrist. He doesn't tug, but he holds, stopping you from descending. A wave of nausea hit you as your brain finally begins to process the numbers.
You take a breath. Then, another. Neither center you.
"This isn't a discussion, Shinsuke."
"You're right. There's no discussion." His face is set, deeply serious. His eyes are wide, terracotta against his ever graying hair, so young and so old all at once. "You are going to your appointments and getting what you need. We'll pay for it."
Every emotion inside of you feels carbonated- stimulated, rising, and no where to go. "We can't fucking afford it."
Kita blinks at the curse, flinching at the shock. After a pause, he opens his mouth to speak, only for a warbled sound to come out. The tremble of his lower lip shocks you, as does the wet threatening to spill over his waterline. Instinctively, you reach for him, and he does the same, holding you at arms distance.
"I don't care." His voice is barely whole. "I'd rather lose the house."
"You don't mean that." You grip on to his shirt and it wrinkles in your hands. It's tattered at the edge, hand sewn as a temporary fix. "Your grandfather's house."
Kita sniffles. He tries to smile, but it falls flat immediately after.
"I'm so sorry that I failed you as a husband." He says, more stern than you ever thought possible, while being so brittle. "But I'd sell the clothes off my back before I did anything to sacrifice your health."
The anger inside you hasn't died, but you're able to tuck it away and hold on to the love you feel.
"Don't say that," you say. "If I was healthy-"
"I failed because you feel like that."