A/N) I wanted to see how much I could do with six sentences.

...And such starts Six Sentences.

BUT! I need prompts. One word prompts. Of anything. Even ice-cream.

...Because I swear I'll break your heart with it. And if I don't I'll try again. And again. You get the point. :D


Scratch


It scratched at him from deep inside him, clawing at his heart and flinging the shredded remains around the cage made by his ribs.

He could stand watching him, watching Bodil leap from block to block and laugh when the Bulgarian fell, although he would admit that yes, it didn't happen often if Bodil was careful - watching Bodil hang out with pizza and offer it to him afterwards before discussing another possible recording session.

He could stand watching Bodil do anything, really - he could stand being trolled by the Bulgarian and hearing his laughter ring through his ears - he could still go over to the Bulgarian's house and they could hang out while he stretched out on the couch that he had claimed as his a long time ago.

He wonders if Bodil would still remember that the couch was his when Double moves in and he gets forced out so that the small apartment would fit the two of them - and just the two of them - he wouldn't have a place there anymore -

But for now, Simon stays and scratches at his skin, watching as angry red marks rise over his skin and he feels the agony ripple up his arm as he watches with dull, blank eyes - the pain didn't match up with the one in his heart, it never would and never could.

After all, it's just a scratch.