MR. BAD GUY (ENGLISH VERSION)

RAIN MUST FALL

He didn't tell Tarek he was coming back London. He just thought in the shooting and think no more of it. But the truth is he only thought about it. When he slept always ended up waking up in sweat being struck viciously with a stick.

The hours had passed like hard bread crumbling between his fingers and falling at the ground like fine flour. He felt a constant cold in his bones. He went up to his dressing room to find something to put on. He wore one of his silk japanese robes. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked at his swollen face, frightful. He didn't want to think the reason, just was ready to put some remedy to those havocs.

He wetted a cloth in ice water and put on his face. He had an interview with the director and producer and couldn't appear with those eyes. He couldn't stop thinking when Lars decided to leave. Would he approach to him in his deepest sleep to a kiss good-bye? Maybe feeling sorry?

After ten minutes he took off the icy cloth from his face. He ran to the mirror. He looked better, but the traces of tears and the lack of sleep had took its toll.

He went up to the kitchen downstairs, slowly. The kettle was full. He opened the fridge, as usual with so much food as they were a numerous family when they were only Duncan, Taron and he. There were two loaves of bread on the toaster. The bowl of cereal flakes waiting the splash of milk. The cup ready to fill it with tea. In the fridge there was also ready some fruit salad. As always his competent chef was in charge of the stores.

He filled his cup of tea and came back to the messy bed. Oscar was on the pillow and greeted him with a meow. He walked to the chest of drawers and opened the duffel bag he had there. He started to put out ripped clothes. All the clothes he had ripped him off. They were all together. In a rush he kept them back in. He felt ashamed even of that recollection.

After finishing his cup of tea he decided having a foamed bath and apply some face mask. He grabbed his Ipod and he inmersed in the hypnotic soprano voice of Sabina Argento, one of his favourites opera singers. He relaxed so much that he felt asleep. He woke up startled with Tarek's vision in front of him, sitting on his heels. The slices of cucumber fell to the already cold water.

- Get out of there. You're freezing.

Enzo looked at him confused. Who told him he had come back to London? Didn't Taron and Duncan know the meaning of word discretion? He was the last person who needed to face now. He let him help him to get out of the bath tube after placing a towel to his feet on the cold floor tile. He handed his yellow robe with serious face. Where were their passionate reunions kissing each other like horny teenagers? They were together rather like boss and employee.

- What are you doing here? How did you know I had come back?

- The press -he said dryly.

Enzo was sorry secretly for thinking wrong about his two loyal assistants. They had been discreet as usual and he was a dirty mind. Enzo didn't need to justify his mutism. Tarek grabbed another towel and dried his hair. He almost did it as professional practice. He watched through the mirror. He stuck his nose into his hair closing his eyes. Enzo on seeing him through the mirror felt a shiver running down his spine. He was saying, „I missed you" without words. He took away the towel from Tarek's hands, getting out of the bathroom upset. He made a head wrap and put on some cream on his body with Tarek watching closely, not daring to speak.

- Stop look at your face. You look amazing -he said pushed him away from the mirror and crashing into his chest.

- Let me go.

Tarek didn't argue. He entered the dressing room after him. Enzo started to dress. He chose a slim fit trousers with no belt and tucked in a satin black shirt. He chose a loafers this time. Tarek looked at him with his head tilted and his index and middle finger over his lips, reflexive and curious.