The body is the story of a person's life. It holds memories from the very first days of life, and it changes with every change. But some of the marks left on the skin are still not a pleasant memory.

They are once again a reminder of the cruelty of the world which a human lives in.

Your relationship with Simon couldn't exactly be called a "relationships". You met by chance at a bar where he was with Soap and Gaz, and you came to your friend's bachelorette party.

There was no magic spark, no attraction at first sight. There was no "magical" force that would pull you towards each other. Because it was you yourselves who were attracted to each other, finding time for texting, calls, and meeting at fast food restaurants.

Romantic? No. But that didn't negate the bond that grew between you.

The intimacy happened suddenly and certainly unplanned. You went to see him before the two of you were going to go to a park near his house.

And then a quick touch of hands, kisses, pulled off clothes, moans and sudden movements. It seemed to be the most natural thing, what everything was going for and what you both wanted.

You sat up in bed, covering your body with a sheet, and froze, looking at Simon. When he bent down to pick up a T-shirt from the floor, you saw it.

The scars. A whole scattering of marks on his skin, small and large, deep and superficial. You didn't know the reason for their appearance, you didn't know the story that each of them was hiding.

Simon looked over his shoulder, and when he saw your gaze, he quickly put on a T-shirt.

"There's nothin' interestin' about it." He mumbled, as if even slightly embarrassed that you had come closer to his life.

To a life you had no idea about.

"But I want to know about it." You answered.

You wanted to know about his scars. You wanted to get to know this man, even if his story was darker than the original fairy tales.