Author's notes: I was so tempted to push the tragedy button. Hope you enjoy.

He looks resolutely ahead as he takes the first step away from her, although his head feels heavy with tears and it wants to sink into his chest in shame at the pain he's just inflicted, but he doesn't want to watch his shoes crush the blades of grass beneath his feet, reminding him of the damage each step is causing to her heart…and his.

With the fifth step a petal lands on his cheek, he feels its feather-light touch against his skin, bringing with it the tears that were swimming in her eyes as he announced his cowardly intentions. Are they falling now, he hopes not, he's not worth it. He's proven that.

With the eighth step the grass has turned to thick tar, he barely has the strength to move his legs through the sludge, it takes every effort of his being to keep them moving forward. But he goes doggedly on.

With the eleventh a shiver runs through his body making him aware of the empty space beside him, no longer warming him, no longer a buffer from the wind, no longer chasing away the loneliness.

There's only silence accompanying his thirteenth step. The bird in the tree up ahead opens its beak but no playful banter escapes, no gentle teasing, no everyday chatter, no breathless words of love. Realisation causes him to stumble and he hits the ground hard. Has he bound her tongue forever, never to sing a mating call, never singing a love song again, never singing again. He instinctively glances back the way he came to see anyone saw him fall.

But she'd turned away by his fourth step, not wanting to watch him walk out of her life, breaking his promise to her. She's watched him leave before, her heart couldn't, wouldn't, watch once more. She passes the straggling mourners, thankful that her tears just mingle with theirs. In this place they're not an anomaly, they're the indicators of broken hearts and dreams, of grief, of loss. He's leaving, he can't do this anymore. As her knees buckle, she collapses on to a nearby bench. Her hand grip the slats of wood as she squeezes her eyes shut and tries to breathe.

He opens his eyes and stares at the sky above him, realising he's still on the ground. He wonders how long he's lain there. He scrambles to his knees and finds himself face to face with a white grave stone. His eyes automatically read the inscription. A young mother, taken when she's barely thirty. Another family devastated, more lives torn apart. As he stares the grave stone seems to open, and there are padded walls, locked doors and red painted faces. Within sits a shell, his mind non-functioning, unable to escape its nightmares of notes, blood and horror. He jumps up and starts to run, running from that shell, running from that room, running from her.