He had to chase her away, 

Insult her, expose her hypocrisy, tell her to fuck off. 

However, the only thing he said to her that was untrue was that he wanted her to go. 

She didn’t know what the hell she wanted. 

But whatever she was looking for, it wasn’t love. That was for sure.

Love does not conquer all. It doesn’t even make a scratch. 

And it wasn’t him, only planning on watching for however long, saying nothing. 

She just had some morbid fascination with watching him self-destruct, 

And she needed to stop getting off on that and go off and self-destruct on her own, without being able to blame him for it. 

All she ever had to do was talk to him, but she just wouldn’t. She wouldn’t even deign to pick up a note or message him to save herself from possibly being incriminated. 

She wouldn’t do anything, not even to help herself. 

All she would do was watch. 

Maybe it was some sort of continued self-pity, but it wasn’t out of care. 

She didn’t care about him, didn’t care much about herself either. 

So he helped her and gave her a reason to forget him. 

He couldn’t control what she did to herself after that, having failed to reach her heart. 

But he loved her, and he did the only thing he could do for her.

He gave her a reason to hate him, knowing that she would stop watching, not because she wanted to, but just to spite him. 

And the saddest part was that it proved that, while she didn’t care, some part of her did love him, and he’d finally broken her heart for good.