by Mori
Why do you refuse to hate me? I do not need this tension between us. If I chose to, I could ignore your rasping voice, always seeking out the needle-thin faults in my arguments, tearing them slowly apart until they are gaping wounds that cannot be overlooked. I am capable of ignoring. And, in fact, I might even use these oppositions to my advantage - examine them, apply them to and strengthen my ideas. I am not bothered by your criticism.
If I chose to, I could ignore your drunken rambling, and I could ignore your foul breath and your foul words. To me, you would only be a shadow, lurking on the sidelines. Observing. I could block you out completely, and ask the others to do the same. They are not such fools that they would disobey, regardless of how much they value your so-called humour. No, I am not bothered by your nonsense, nor by your cynicism.
But I cannot ignore your eyes on me, those gentle eyes that follow me out of the Café Musain even as you remain dormant inside. Oh no, Grantaire, I am not blind - I cannot ignore the unwitting kindness I see in your face even as I turn my sharp words upon you. No matter what I tell you, no matter how many insults I throw upon you, I cannot rid myself of your devotion.
Why, if you scorn the Republic so, why do you not despise me as well, whose only love is her?
And so, Grantaire, all that I show you is malice. One day, perhaps, you will see that I can do nothing for you; perhaps, you will understand at last, and leave with your crude words, your absinthe, your adoring eyes.
What a relief it would be, only to be rid of the last - that which I hate most of all.