She wanted him to run.
So he ran as fast as he could, disregarding the pain in his limbs.
She wanted him to fly.
So he saved up enough to build himself a pair of wings, adorned with feathers and sturdy wires. Again, ignoring the pain, this time in his head.
She wanted him to dance.
So he went to get the best top hat and the best pointy shoes he could find in a big town next to theirs. He came to her dancing, disregarding the pain he received from a fall.
She wanted him to sing. So he went to ask the only accompanist in town and learned the solfeggio just for her. Disregarding the pain in his throat.
She wanted him to leave, because in the end she could find men who can run faster than him, with wings adorned with pearls and peacock feathers, with top hats higher than his, whose pointy shoes are shinier than the one he bought and voice much sweeter than his.
Then he smiled, disregarding the pain in his heart as he pulls her along with him into the angry water. Hard.