the greatest show

10

"Phillip. I'm okay, I'm fine."
Phillip shakes his head as he looks over my body, feeling my arms, my neck, checking for injuries.
"Is the baby okay?" He asks, a forced causality to his voice. I roll my eyes and rub my stomach, hesitating.
"The baby is okay. Can we just-"
Phillip interrupts me by holding up my finger, an annoyed look plastered on his normally happy face.
"Anne, you cut your finger."
I roll my eyes. He's gripping my finger so tightly he's stopping blood circulation, and the rope burn on my pointer finger really isn't that bad.
"It's not that horrible, Phillip."
"Not that horrible? Anne, you could have bled to death. Since when is that 'not that horrible?'"
I grab him by the shoulders, attempting a death stare into his eyes, and he crouches back at my ferocious expression.
"I'm okay. The baby's okay. I just tried trapeze again. It's not that big of a deal."
Phillip raises his eyebrows. The playful protectiveness we had going on a couple minutes ago is gone now, replaced by an angry Phillip.
"Anne, you could've hurt yourself on the trapeze. Not only you, but the baby. You have to tell me when you're going to do these things."
The night I did trapeze, I didn't tell him.
I snuck out the back door, dressed only in my trapeze outfit, and arrived at W.D's house after Phillip had left.
"It doesn't concern you."
"It doesn't concern me? Anne, it concerns me more than you know." His eyebrows are pulled to the centre of his forehead, angry, wild. "I can't live without you or this baby, Anne. I thought you knew that."
I hesitate at the raw emotion in his words, then blink and lift my eyes to his.
"But it didn't pose a risk to me, or the baby-"
Phillip tenses his jaw and interrupts me smoothly.
"You were out of practice. You are out of practice, and you risked your life because of a stupid career-"
It's quiet.
It's quiet because once the words left his mouth, he regretted them immediately.
He knows how much the trapeze means to me. He knows it's my entire life, and yet, he passes it off as a silly pastime, a job.
My voice is quiet.
"What did you just say to me?"
His eyes are pleading, wishing, but mine are wild, hurt, broken.
"Anne, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"
"What did you just say to me?"
I repeat, louder this time. Tears burn in my eyes, swarming my vision, and I choke.
"You know how much I love trapeze. You know how hard it is for me to be away from it, can you accept that I need to come back to it sometimes? I know what I'm doing. I could've died, but I didn't. Can you learn to trust that I know what I'm doing?"
My voice is angry, hoarse with tears, and they clearly sting his vision. He swallows, taking a bullet to his chest, and backs away. I know my words hurt, but I don't regret them. They are the truth, and I do not regret the truth.
"I'm sorry. I just wish you would trust me enough to tell me where you're going."
I cross my arms over my chest, lifting my chin slightly to match his height.
  "I think you should trust me enough to know that I won't hurt myself on the trapeze."
  Phillip blows a puff of air through his lips, shrugging slightly.
  "I'm sorry. You're right."
I didn't except him to give in that quickly.
  I nod, relaxing my posture. We stand in awkward silence for a few seconds before Phillip runs a hand through his hair and turns around, leaving the room briskly. I bite my lip, hesitating, and seat myself on the wood floor of our home. I hear the front door close, a sign that he's left. A shocking pain ripples through my chest.
  I'm not quite sure what just happened.
Was that an argument? Did he just walk out? Will he be back? I don't know. I don't want to know, because I fear the answer.
  My heart beats fast, but I try not to show it, try not to cry in pain.
  What did I do?
                                       ***
Phillip's POV
She's not right. I'm not sorry.
  I lied. I lied to protect myself, and protect her, protect us. I don't feel protected, though- instead, painful shivers crawl down my spine, and a hurtful ache spreads through my chest.
  Anne wasn't hurt. I know she wasn't. But if she was, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself.
  She was out of practice. She could've fallen, but instead, she trusted her instinct, and she risked her life.
  I don't know what I would've done if she fell.
Without this bit of life I've collected, without my family, I would still be Phillip Carlyle, famous playwright. And I can't be him again- I can't be him after experiencing this happiness.
  I groan and roll onto my side, dressed only in a flimsy white tank top and baggy pants. The wetness of the gravel beneath me seeps through the thin material, and I wince at the frigid ness of the ground.
  Brick walls- gray, mourning, surround me, trapping me in an alleyway, accompanied only by my conscience.
  Guilt bites me like a fly. Should I have yelled at her? Yes. Yes, I keep my place. Still, she was only trying to do what she loved, and I was trying to keep her from doing so. Was I wrong?
  Yes. Yes, I was wrong.
I sigh, bringing my knees closer to my chest.
  The sky is almost black- clouds swirl, covering the sun, and they churn with madness. It'll rain soon.
  My eyelids droop. I should sleep- I should return home and demand that I can sleep on the bed. But I can't. She's carrying a child. My child.
  I slip onto my side, blinking furiously to escape the tears threatening to fall. Really, we're arguing about something so petty, so stupid- but this seems serious. If she's willing to take it seriously, I can't argue.
  Sleep tugs on my mind, towards blackness, towards numbness.
  And I let it. Gladly.
                                       ***
A/N:
I know it's short, sorry sorry sorry :)
  This is probably my favourite chapter so far, which isn't good because this chapter sucks ;(
  I hate it when carwheeler argues. I wanted this to be a simple floof but ran out of ideas so there might be the tiniest bit of drama. I apologize because I suck at writing drama :/