“Reggie,” Augustine sighed his boyfriend’s name. “Please, stop shouting at me.”

Reggie’s face darkened instantly as the rage inside him grew. His pale skin was flushed bright pink and his sandy hair was greasy and smoothed back against his skull. He clenched his fists and jaw and breathed deeply—in through his nose and out through his mouth. After a moment, Reggie left the room silently, making sure to gently close the living room door behind him.

Augustine collapsed down onto the couch and curled up into a ball. It killed him when they fought. They had been so happy a few years ago, when times were simpler and money flowed freer. They had loved each other since high school and their love had only grown during college all the way through to their graduation. Afterwards, though, when they realized what real life was like, the stress hit them hard.

Reggie had grown angry and bitter and Augustine had turned into a mouse, too scared to take a risk or do anything outside of his comfort zone. They had become polar opposites almost overnight as they struggled to find work and pay the bills. Then, when Augustine’s father died, he left them the family home. Augustine thought all of their problems had been answered in one swoop.

He had been so very wrong. It turned out the house was in a state of disrepair, almost falling off its foundation, and the cost of making the house livable was extreme. Reggie took every acting job he could get his hands on—as well as working as many shifts as possible at the restaurant—and Augustine did the same at his retail job. Stacking shelves was physically hard—as was cooking food—and they often came home tired and stinking. It wasn’t healthy for them to take their anger out on each other, and it needed to stop.

Reggie opened the door quietly and came back inside the living room. He perched on the edge of the couch and, in reply, Augustine scooted over and grabbed his hands tightly.

“I’m sorry,” Augustine whispered.

“Me too,” Reggie replied, just as quietly. “I don’t mean to do this to you. I’m just… I’m so stressed. I don’t know how we’re surviving anymore, I really don’t.”

Augustine laughed halfheartedly. “Me too,” he said. “But we are.”

“No,” Reggie said. “I mean it this time. I can’t go on like this. Our debts are piling up. It’s not getting any better. The house is falling apart. We can barely afford food, or heating. What are we going to do in the winter? Are we going to have to decide to feed or heat ourselves?”

Augustine tried to grab hold of Reggie and cuddle him, trying to ease his pain, but Reggie was having none of it. He wrenched himself away from Augustine’s arms roughly, and stood from the couch.

“I can’t do this,” Reggie said again, this time more stern.

Augustine felt his stomach churn inside him. “Are you leaving me?”

“No,” Reggie sighed. “I’m saying that we need to sort this out, otherwise I will leave.”

Augustine snorted. “What do you suppose we should do? I already work fifty hours a week, and then some. You’re working the same hours, maybe more.”

Reggie stared at Augustine, his murky blue eyes unrelenting. “Sell the house,” he said quietly. “Sell the house and we can pay off most of our debts.”

Augustine clenched his jaw and physically recoiled from Reggie.

“I’m sorry,” Reggie said, “but I see no other choice.”

“This house,” Augustine started, his voice shaking so badly it was hard to understand his words, “this house is all I have left of my father, of my family. And you’re asking me to sell it so we can pay off some debts? That won’t even help, Reggie! We need to earn more!”

Reggie looked to the floor. It was a touchy subject, one that had been discussed at length before. Augustine had always refused and would always refuse. There was no way he was giving up the house. Besides, it wouldn’t even cover half of their student loans. What good would that do, paying off half? It wouldn’t make their monthly payments any less, nor would it make their groceries any less expensive.

“Why don’t you sell some of your stuff?” Augustine snapped. “Some of those collectibles you’ve had for all your life?”

Reggie sighed and refused to look up from his feet. “It won’t help,” he said, defeated.

“You’re damn right,” Augustine shouted. “Just like selling the house wouldn’t help.”

“It’s just a house,” Reggie said sadly. “You have memories of your father, pictures and clothes and belongings. This house doesn’t mean anything, really. It’s just where you lived.”

Augustine leaped up from the couch. “It’s where he raised me, it’s my home. I’m not giving it up—not now, not ever!”

Reggie cringed away from Augustine as he passed by, stomping his feet angrily. Augustine went into the kitchen and slammed the door loudly, not caring about how it made Reggie feel. He took a moment to cool down before grabbing his pack of cigarettes from the counter and storming out into the garden. The lawn was immaculate, all thanks to Reggie. He had a green thumb for sure, and the rest of his hand was green, too. The lawn had never looked better, even when Augustine and his father first moved into the house. Reggie had a way with life and all things living, he nurtured everything he touched.

The thought pained Augustine but he tried to ignore it. He sat on the step by the back door and lit a cigarette. He inhaled deeply, feeling the smoke drift down into his lungs. The nicotine entered his bloodstream, filling his body with relief. Reggie hated the smell of smoke but he tolerated it for Augustine, knowing it helped calm his already frazzled nerves.

Augustine looked at the little packet of paper and tobacco smoking in his hand. It turned his fingers yellow where he held it, as well as the skin on his lips where he smoked. It ruined his teeth and lungs and everywhere in between. It made his lover disgusted, smelling it on him and seeing him do it. Why did he still smoke? If Reggie was so wonderful, tending the garden, working two jobs, and trying to support the family as best as he could, why was Augustine not doing the same, too?

He spent a lot on cigarettes, more than he liked to admit. That money could easily be spent on food or heating and it would take a little bit of the strain off. If he offered to quit, maybe Reggie would ease off on asking him to sell the house? It was food for thought, at least. Augustine knew it would be a while before he quit, anyway. He bought in bulk usually and he’d only just started a new carton a few days ago.

They had talked about Augustine quitting when they got pregnant... but that conversation happened a year ago and there was no baby in sight, not yet. That was really the crux of their issues. They so desperately wanted to bring a child into this world and yet they couldn’t. They’d been trying for well over a year by not using protection. One night, Augustine had asked if he should use a condom or not. Reggie had said no and for six months they continued on not using it. When they hadn’t gotten pregnant, they started to talk about what they wanted in life. For both of them, the thing they wanted most was children. They were both disappointed it hadn’t happened yet. As time went on, they grew more and more resentful of each other. Their relationship was filled with arguments and resentment.

Augustine finished his cigarette and put it out on the brick wall beside him, where he always did. A small patch of black ash was smeared into the brick. He made a mental note to clean it off toward the end of summer before winter arrived. Not now, though. For now, he was going to have another cigarette.

He smoked it slowly, enjoying the way it tasted, feeling his body get lighter and lighter with every puff. The cool breeze chilled his bare arms but he didn’t let it bother him. When he extinguished the cigarette on the wall, he stood up from his step and opened the kitchen door. Whatever Reggie was doing, he was completely silent in the house. Augustine closed the door, put his cigarettes on the counter, and crept through the house.

Reggie was hiding out in the study, working away on his computer, typing furiously. Augustine walked up to him slowly and placed his hands on Reggie’s shoulders. He jumped a little, but turned his head back to look up at Augustine.

“I’m looking for better jobs,” Reggie said sadly. “There’s not a lot out there.”

Augustine looked at the screen. All of the jobs were manual labor, or more kitchen jobs. There wouldn’t be much of a raise for Reggie and yet he was still looking, still trying. Augustine’s heart physically hurt as he remembered all the horrible words they had said to each other. It was all due to stress, but that didn’t excuse their behavior. They needed to be kind to each other and suddenly Augustine knew what he needed to do—he needed to take the first step.

“It’s okay,” Augustine said. “We can sell the house.”

Reggie’s eyes widened and he pushed his chair away from the computer. He stood up and grabbed hold of Augustine’s hands tightly.

“I’m ready to sell,” Augustine said quickly. “I love you and I want us to be together. Whatever needs to happen is going to happen, okay?”

“No,” Reggie said, grabbing Augustine’s hands tighter. “No, we’re not selling the house.”

“But… you said...”

“I know what I said,” Reggie snapped. “It’s not going to happen. This house means everything to you and we’re not going to sell it. Besides, it will be a great family home.”

“A great place to raise kids,” Augustine agreed. “It’s a great house. It just needs a little love.”

“It is,” Reggie nodded. “I’m sorry I was so horrible to you. I’m so sorry.”

“Me too,” Augustine whispered. “I know it’s just worries getting you down.”

“We’re both in the same boat,” Reggie said. “At least we can take comfort in the fact that we both feel the same way.”

“It’s okay,” Augustine said, trying to cheer himself up. “We’re going to be okay. We’re in a rough patch right now, but it will pass.”

They clasped each other’s hands tightly and stared into each other’s eyes, smiling sadly at one another. They had been through hell and back together, and Augustine knew that they had suffered more than this. They were not going to let a few bills get them down and separate them. As much as he loved the house, he loved Reggie more. He was willing to sell the house, sell everything he owned, to keep Reggie by his side.

Reggie grabbed the back of Augustine’s neck and kissed his lips gently. Augustine’s hands automatically grabbed Reggie’s shirt, taking handfuls of it and holding on tightly, as Reggie gently put his forehead against Augustine’s.

They closed their eyes, their foreheads touching, and stood silently together. They were going to get through this, Augustine knew that. Whatever needed to happen would happen, and they would get through it no matter what.