Dabbling in Drabbles
Stubborn
Some days, at the back of his mind, he admits that he wants to love her.
He can't explain why, and though it disturbs him, he feels he can't help it. He's drawn to her. There is an attraction there, inexplicable as it may be, and he can't dismiss it. It makes its presence known every time he sees her; big, blue eyes, golden hair and all, with that insufferable self-righteousness about her.
It's a desperate conundrum he finds himself in so often. He tries so hard to convince her of it. That she has good in her. That there is a good, kind, decent human being just under the veil of her wickedness. But she is flippant of his attempts, and he curses himself for trying.
Her bad manners, impudence, melodramatic displays of anger, cowardice, hatred—she is impossible to get along with, to even be in the company of for more than a couple of minutes. But her nastiness is forced. He knows it is. It must be. No one could be that cruel.
He will always try to convince himself that the reason he tries so frequently to bring her to the light is because of a simple duty to uphold his moral ground. To prove that everyone has kindness in them. It's not as if he hasn't done the same for others before. She is just stubborn.
But he knows deep down, if that was the case, he wouldn't care quite this much. She wouldn't be able to strike cords so deeply inside him. She is special. And he wishes each day that she would let him love her, because he knows they could be something great. If she would just let them be.
Still, the days go by, and she never changes. She is still nasty, stubborn, and cruel, and she refuses to be anything but.
He will just have to accept that. Even if he knows the chances of that are slim.
Because, hey. He can be stubborn too.
A/N: I am busy with many things. Many things, many things, many things.
Drabbles are nice little waiting blocks, though, yes? Much better than that dreadful waiting music.