Aches of Growing up

It was the bow. It was also the cocky grin. Maybe it was the messy hair. Possibly it was the fact that he was only a stupid boy and knowingly walked to his death.

And even if you could not see the eyes, or through-grit-teeth smile. You could not hear the way he choked on each breathe that he took, or the creak of weary bones attempting to lift a heavy heart. You could not help but notice the Ache.

It was more than yearning, it was a decidedly slow excruciating means to an end. And an end the boy walked to, knowing at the end of this pain he would be a man. Never again silly, or forget his mortality. That was what the ache was for.