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Chapter ~7~ [Video]
[Delmar's phone is sitting in his lap as a thumb presses worriedly into the flesh of his lower lip. His eyes are angry red at the edges, cheeks still damp though at this moment he's not crying.]
I'm so very sorry. I'm sorry that I...
[He keeps getting to this point. He's started that sentence again and again in his mind but when he tries to finish it there's a static of thousands of things he's sorry for. He's sorry for the son his parents never had in him. For denying them that version of their lives in which their eldest son was someone they could be proud of. He's sorry for the big brother he's denied his siblings because he couldn't not be himself. Because he couldn't want to not be himself.
He's sorry that he's not sorry for who he loves. He's sorry he never tried hard enough to be sorry for it. He's sorry that he saw all those wishes that he would change. All those hopes that he would 'grow out of it' 'fix himself' 'stop being selfish' ...and tossed them away.
He's sorry because shouldn't he have done those things? Shouldn't he have put his family first? His friends?
He's sorry. Confused. Tired. And sorry he's not smart enough to finish this sentence]
.....All of these are...for all of you.
[He simply turns the phone to show a platter of row upon row of small cupcakes with 'sorry' written on them]
[And he starts to open his mouth as though to say something else. But instead he just ends the feed]
video; private
Hey. Quit it. Whatever you feel like you've got to be sorry for, it's just the event talking.
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[But he sighs. They've had this conversation before, and he knows there's likely no shaking Delmar out of his funk just by repeating all of this. This fucking event, man.]
Look, this will pass, okay? You'll feel better in a few days.
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H-how do you know it will stop, Harley?
[That's the difficult part with the events that are emotions. There is no clear beginning and end to what was you and what was them]
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[Luckily, Harlan has plenty of experience when it comes to intrusive thoughts and not being able to trust his own brain. The wires still get plenty crossed during these things, but he's trudged through enough events by now to recognize them when they crop up, even if he can't quite sift through the emotions they inspire.]
Do you need anything? I can come down to the bakery if you want some company.
[He's not feeling particularly social today, but he wants to be there for his friend.]
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He doesn't want to keep doing this. Having Harlan and Julie and Michael and Margaery always having to pick up the pieces after him. Because that's how it is, isn't it? He keeps falling apart and they keep having to put him back together, a useless old man who couldn't even protect them--
--and there goes the spiral again. His head sinking below the waves of his regrets.
At long last the shaking of his head turns to a small weak nod and a whispered]
Please?
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He's brought a friend with him, too. JF is perched on his shoulder, looking a bit unsteady from the journey, but she mews and hops onto the counter as soon as she sees Delmar. She knocks her head against his arm. Pets, please.
Harlan, meanwhile, helps himself to an apology cupcake.]
Do you want a distraction or do you want to talk about it?
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I don't even know where to start, Harley. One minute I feel like I know why I'm upset and the next minute I don't but then it comes back and goes away again and again....
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That's the event fucking with your head. All we can do is ride it out. It'll pass eventually.