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]

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It's no trouble at all. And of course you deserve it.
[the view from the video changes as she gets up and walks out the door of her apartment, headed over to Delmar's]
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[and shortly after, there's a knock on the door]
Delmar? It's me, Margaery.
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Will you please tell me what's the matter? Please?
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I...I don't know....
[One moment he thinks he does. The next he's confused again.]
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You don't know what's the matter or you don't know if you can tell me?
[that's got to be terribly frustrating. at least Margaery knows exactly what she's sorry for and who she needs to apologize to]
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I can tell you. But I can't because I don't know what's wrong. It feels like it's everything.
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I feel the same way. Perhaps we can start with--with the smaller things that are wrong and work our way up to the difficult ones.
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[Delmar finally lifts his head, reaching into his pocket for a handkerchief and bringing it up to his face as he sniffles]
D-do you want to come inside?
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I'd love to. Thank you.