Title: Sorry
Pairing/Main Character(s): Zutara angst
Word Count: 429
Notes: Set in modern times. Lyrics are from Taylor Swift's "Innocent."
x x x x x x x x x x
I guess you really did it this time
Left yourself in your warpath
His destructive tendencies had struck again. Too much work leads to stress. Stress leads to anger. Anger leads to lashing out. And he did just that. Someone he loved was in the wrong place at the wrong time. This time, it was his girlfriend. He really did blow it this time. Blew his top. Exploded. Screamed. At her. She had done nothing. Not just nothing wrong; nothing at all.
Did some things you can't speak of
But at night you live it all again
Big mistake. The worst one yet. But the others were bad too, and now he remembers them as he waits for the phone to stop ringing. It does, ending with her cheerful voice telling him to leave a message. But that's not good enough. He has to speak to her, hear her voice, not just a recording. He waits a moment before dialing again, as the memories flood his thoughts.
You wouldn't be shattered on the floor now
If only you had seen what you know now then
Why doesn't he just go and find her? Because she doesn't want to see him. Or so he thinks.
But she does. She wants to tell him everything will be okay, that she isn't mad at him. But she won't get to. So the next time their paths cross, she will be angry, the way she isn't right now. Because he never tried to talk to her.
But he did. He tried to call, but she wouldn't pick up. The phone rings again. Seeing his name, she ignores it. It stops, and a tear drips from her eye. Why doesn't he just come and find her?
Lives change like the weather
I hope you remember
Today is never to late to
Be brand new
He imagines the conversation that would result, should he show up at her apartment unannounced. He shakes his head and the words scatter. He can't do it. It wouldn't work.
He puts his phone aside for the last time that night.
She looks at the empty seat next to her on the couch and whispers to the air, "Why didn't you just say sorry?"
He stares at his reflection in the mirror, painfully aware of the space at his side. His arms hang limp, with nothing to hold. He whispers to void beside him, "I tried… but you never answered my calls."
But nothing changes. Neither one tries to make things better. The cycle of anger and sadness is repeated.