After a deep breath, I closed my eyes, and in the moment it took to open them again, the room went dark and ultimately quiet. A wispy cool encircled me; the absence of life filtering emptiness into my world. I sat taller and looked around the vacant auditorium.

I was alone; everyone was gone.

How long had I been sitting here?

A whisper of a memory salted my thoughts, making me look down at my bone-white, numb fingers. I remembered playing. I remembered the faces of the audience-how, afterward, they greeted me and shook my hand. I had smiled and nodded, while inside, I was dying. I could see it all as it happened, but couldn't remember living it. I wondered if Dad or Mike were looking for me-worried about me.

My posture sunk a little as I made myself smaller and took a few shallow breaths. Truth was, I really didn't care if they were worried. I just wanted to play, rain my heart into a song until it no longer felt like it was bleeding.

Ignoring the tension of the impending grilling, I placed my fingers to the keys again. Each note poured through them like rainbow-coloured grief-strings of light that, with every pull on my heart, tore away another part of my soul; brought to the surface another emotion, another painful memory I thought I'd locked away for good.

Through all of this that I'd suffered, I knew that, inside, I was destroyed. I would never be the same again. I tried once, to move on, to be normal, but with the loss of David, of my one true love, I knew that moving on was never in the cards for me. Whatever my existence here was fated to be, happiness was not it. David was not it.

Like a strong link to a powerful memory, the faint hint of a familiar scent touched my lungs. I drew a deep breath of orange-chocolate, and my body rejoiced the sensation of oxygen, as if I'd not taken a breath since I last held David.

My head whipped up; I looked back to the chairs that only hours ago had been filled with friends and family, and all of a sudden, in the middle seat, softly lit by the light from the corridor outside, I saw a face.

David.

He stood up slowly, like a ghost weighed down by the anguish in the world.

How long had he been there? What had he heard in my thoughts while he was watching me?

"I know this is hard." He appeared behind me, his smooth, ethereal voice shattering my heart. "But you knew this. Breaking up was never going to be easy."

"So, that's what this is?" I asked in a quiet voice, looking down. "We're broken up, now?"

"I wish it wasn't so."

"It doesn't have to be."

"It does."

"But...maybe it wouldn't be so bad to-" I spun around on the seat and stopped dead when I looked at him; it ached inside to see his face after I was sure I'd never lay eyes on him again.

"What wouldn't be so bad?"

"To...to be like you."

He shook his head. "You can't be like me. I've spent so much time thinking about it-desperate to find some way this could work. But, Ara? There's no saying you even carry the gene. What if we tried and you-" He shook his head again. "No. You have to take a chance at life. You have to live it to its fullest before I could even dream of changing you."

"But-"

"No." He placed his thumb to my lips. "If you die, Ara, without ever knowing life, motherhood, I could not live with myself. It is better to have lived your life in heartache, than never to have lived at all."

"I know. I do know that. And-" I pictured my future, my children, my wrinkled skin. "And I want a life, but...but the heartache is worse than I thought."

David looked at my hand, over my heart, and nodded. "I know."

We held our gaze for a long moment, leaving our future resting on the pause of a few simple words. After a while, I sighed, turning my face away when the words refused to come.

"He's right for you, you know." David broke the silence, though the tension stayed as thick as blood.

My quiet breath sunk.

"I want you to be with him. I want you to go back to Perth with him."

I looked up quickly.

"I see in his thoughts, Ara. I watch him with you. He loves you-deeply." He lost his voice on the last word, closing his eyes as he said it.

"I know, David. I know he loves me, and-I love him too." I had to whisper, afraid my words would wound him forever; like somehow, making my voice low might take away some of the sting. "But I can't go with him. I can't. I just can't leave you here al-"

"Ara. Be smart." David dropped to his knees in front of me. "I can't have you here, lingering in a place I may one day return. That's not living. You have to go-you have to be far away so I can never find you."

"But-"

"No. I won't do it. I won't return and ruin your life and, knowing how close you are-that I could just drive to you-would be more agony than I could bear."

The tears in my eyes turned to thick droplets as they spilled onto my cheeks and over my lips. He was right. It would be selfish of me to wait around here for him-to hope he might change his mind and become a fake human. If he left his Set, he'd have nothing, and one day, I'd be gone anyway. At least, for now, we suffered the absence in union-desolate union.

"Please, just don't make me say goodbye, David. Go, leave me, but don't make me say it."

He smiled and sat beside me on the piano stool. I tried to steady my pulse, pushing away the memory of the first time I saw that dimple; how I wanted nothing in the world except him-just him. Life or death or murder meant nothing-I just wanted him. "This is not goodbye, Ara. Not yet. I still have a few more days."

"I know." I cleared my throat. "Until the last red leaf falls, right?"

"Until the last red leaf falls," he said with a grin.

I touched my fingertips to David's face, and he held my hand to his cheek, closing his eyes. My heart picked up with the desire to lay against him-safe in his strong, loving arms-held tight, like nothing could ever bring me harm.

If only we could run away-run from everything. Run from reality and the supernatural, run from fate and tragedy. But we couldn't.

"Where will you go-what will you do when I'm gone?" I asked.

He looked down and then smiled as our eyes met again. "See the pyramids." He shrugged. "Always wanted to fly a silver plane, too."

I managed a soft smile.

"Don't you ever forget, Ara, how much I love you." He placed both hands on my face, then turned my head slowly. "And you still, and always will, belong to me."

I nodded, rolling my cheek into his thumb as he wiped a tear away. Then, he slowly lowered his lips to mine, and like so many times before, they fit to perfection, as if we were made for each other-but so cruelly unsuited to each other. We'd kissed for love, kissed for lust, for happiness and thankfulness, but this was a kiss of sorrow, of loss and despair, yet so full of love-so soft and so gentle. Like a beast handling priceless porcelain.

But even with the warmth in my soul, weightless from his touch, the small silver locket around my neck felt heavy under the pain of imminent separation. It had felt that way for so long now, but only in his arms, with his lips once again belonging to mine, I could finally see that it always would-and I wasn't sure I could bear it.

I yanked the chain loose and held it out to David as I pulled away from the kiss. "I'm sorry. I just can't do this."

"Ara?" His voice overflowed with confusion as he held the locket in his open palm.

"It's too painful for me. I can't keep this as a memory of you. I need to forget. I need to try to move on, and every time I do, this is a constant reminder that you're no longer a part of my life." My voice broke-shattered, as I delivered the words I knew were tearing out his heart.

His rounded eyes burned through me, deep into my soul; he wanted me to feel what he felt right then, but I already knew. I could feel it myself-in my bones, breaking my resolve.

I looked away. It hurt too much to see that on his face. It would only destroy me over and over again.

The locket sat in David's outstretched palm, shimmering like moonlight on sand in the soft, dull light of our eternal darkness.

Placing my thumb against the heart, I closed his fingertips around it and held my grip there for a second. "This is not goodbye, remember?"

"Not yet, anyway." He nodded solemnly as he placed my heart into his pocket, and then, like so many times before, without a word, without a smile, the darkness was the only thing I saw in his place.

Chapter Twenty-Nine.

With my back against the wall outside Mr Benson's class, I hugged my books-the books David usually carried-and watched everyone pass. They didn't talk to me. They hardly even gawked at me anymore, and the horrid yellow linoleum just seemed to be a part of the scenery, ironically, like me. Didn't mean it fit, though.

"Hey, did you hear?" Emily came bounding over.

"Depends. What was I supposed to hear?"

"The benefit? We raised enough to cover Nathan's funeral." Her lips practically touched her ears. "And due to an anonymous donation, Mrs Rossi won't have to pay the hospital bill, either."

"Wow, that's really great." We moved aside for Mr B to get into class. "So, who's the donor?"

Emily glared at me. "Ara, the point of being anonymous is that no one knows who you are."

"Oh, right." I closed my eyes for a second. "Sorry. I'm just-I'm not really with it today."

"Are you ever?" she asked; I shrugged. "So, what happened to you anyway, after the show? You just...disappeared." She fluttered her fingers as if throwing a handful of butterflies into the air.

"I uh-"

"Is it Mike? 'Cause you guys seem pretty friendly." She paused for a moment. "Is Mike taking you to the ball? Since David had to go New Hampshire?"

New Hampshire, huh? "I haven't asked him. But, I guess he will. It's been really busy around my place lately."

"Yeah, tell me about it. We haven't even gone shopping for my dress yet."

"Oh, my God. Emily. I'm so sorry. I totally forgot."

"I don't blame you, not with a hunk like that hanging around." She elbowed me softly, hugging her books to her chest.

"Can I make it up to you?" I asked.

"Yeah, okay." She lifted one shoulder and dropped it. "Hey, why don't we go tonight? Maybe have some dinner out?"

"Yeah, you know-" I grinned, "-that may be just what I need. What time?"

"Six fine with you?"

"Sounds-great." Really great, actually.

We parted ways and I suffered the trials of obligation for the next seven hours in silence. It was during this desolate wandering I had a revelation; school was so boring. I decided I wouldn't be coming tomorrow and probably not for the rest of this week, actually. I wanted as much time with Mike as I could get before he boarded that plane next Monday and, if I decided not go with him, disappeared from my life forever.

It seemed to be the way with people I loved; I'd get to hold them, love them only long enough to realise I couldn't live without them, and then they were gone. A blink of an eye.

There was no going back to the simplicity-the uncomplicated rose-coloured glasses of love. Love was not enough anymore, and if love were truly blind, then I'd surely be running away with David.

But the heart must not be allowed to rule the mind. At least, that's what I kept telling myself. Though, I was starting to wonder which one was which.

Mike sprawled out across my bed and sorted through the playlists on my iPod while I fussed about in my wardrobe, choosing a dress to wear out. "So, what's this shopping trip for again?" he called.

"Um. Emily needs a dress for the ball. I was supposed to go with her last week, but..." I shrugged to myself.

"Ball?" The words came from directly behind me.

I spun around, cupping my hands over my bra. "Mike? Get out of here!"

"Relax, kid, I've seen it all before."

"No," I scoffed, shoving him. "Get out. You can talk to me when I'm decent."

"You look pretty decent, now." His smug grin made me smile, but common sense took over and I shoved him again.

"Out. Now!"

"Okay, okay." He laughed as he backed away, palms raised. "So, are you going to the ball?"

"Well, I-" I looked at the dress, hanging in all its glory on the hook beside me.

"Was David supposed to take you?" Mike asked from right behind me again.

"Hey. I said out!"

"Just answer me and I'll go."

"Don't give me that cheeky grin, Michael Christopher White. I said out. Now, out."

He grabbed the finger I pointed in his face. "Make me."