MR. BAD GUY (ENGLISH VERSION)

NOW MY HEART BEGINS TO BLEED

The shooting in Romania started off. They were going to recreate Mohács battle in the big plains in the south of the country. Owed to its plain orography, interspersed with endless rivers and natural lakes, that area was perfect to place the scenes of the famous battle against the Hungarian army. That beginning of the autumm was amazingly warm and it was demanding shooting as soon as possible, in anticipation of the snowflakes that could never happened that August of 1526 in Mohács.

Enzo looked at himself in the mirror once again as the impressive Turk sultan. His eyes eyelined with kohl glowed, his curled long eyelashes provided even more beauty to his dark and almond shaped eyes. He wore elegantly the complex Muslin turban. He was used to its weight and he didn't take it off in more than 14 hours of shooting. They had put on makeup to his face faking the dust and dirt of one battle.

He gave back the little mirror to Taron and stroked the nose of the beautiful horse he must ride over that day. He gave him a kiss over the brilliant nose as his trainer told him the last commands over the scene planification.

Enzo used to fall in love with the characters he played. He fell in love with the costumes he wore and each word that the script writer had written. He only understood the work like that and there was no other way to give himself, 200% in love.

He had a very special relation with horses. There was no record of a favourite horse in Soliman the Magnificent history, but Enzo wanted that way, like Alexander the Great with Bucefalo or The Cid with Babieca. He spent hours and hours between takes with them. Even they allowed him brushing their horsehair sometime.

The first part had been very hard to do but this one demanded a very good physical condition. Enzo had a huge gym at home with the latest equipment but everybody enjoyed it but him. Most of all Tarek and Taron. Duncan used to do some cycling at the most. Nevertheless, aware of the greater physical demand for this part of the shooting, he submitted to certain discipline every day till he flew to Romania. A little of jumping rope and treadmill. Every time he finished his routine of exercises and fell on the floor dripping in sweat panting, came to his mind Tarek. He imagined him by his side, laughing loudly. But he wasn't there, and he wouldn't be.

Enzo tried real hard thinking only of himself. He was right now a very powerful sultán with a crucial battle ahead. Every day was arranged around his schedule shooting. His world was the takes in which he gave his all. He did what he always had done. Try to be the best possible actor and felt this movie could be his peak. The peak of his success.

But one time or other Tarek came up to his mind. His image usually took him by surprise. He didn't search him, he came up in the most untimely moments. His amazing smokey blue eyes so big. Sometimes his large and sensual mouth half open in a sigh, waiting to meet his own mouth. Sometimes his delicious smell. His harsh and cuddly voice used to come to rock him in his sleepless nights. And he was shivering all over till he cried out his name, rested his head over the pillow, exhausted of melancholy. After that irrational discharge in his body he used to sleep like a baby, rewarded. Just to recall him every minute.