MR. BAD GUY (ENGLISH VERSION)

I'M TWO STEPS NEARER TO MY GRAVE

The days Enzo spent in bed had risen. If he could get up at noon with enough strenght he used to take the paintbrush, although sometimes he couldn't even hold it between his fingers. He had paid attention to Deaky's advice and chose to revive his artist spirit. If the weather was fine he got out with his easel and tried to put across something. If the day was rainy or unpleasant, he used to go downstairs to breath the home atmosphere.

Marygold Alley was a home full of life. People, smelling and flavours, unending chatting he didn't want to miss. He liked talking to Svetlana about architecture and cooking. He wasn't an expert in any of those disciplines, he wasn't even a fan, but he loved learning new things every day. He used to talk a lot to Doreen, the cleaner lady or how he liked to call her mockingly, "the world heritage destroyer". He could speak with her about anything although he always let her calling the shots. She was talkative and a great expert in european royalty so Enzo enjoyed so much with her light and frivolous idle talk. Duncan was as usual his dearest friend and helped to a great extent to make Marygold Alley the oasis of harmony and order it was. And of course last but not least, his dearest husband Tarek, his wonderful gardener and his recent maker of beautiful furniture was always by his side, leaving him space but constantly taking care of his increasingly weak health.

- Shall we getting out? -Tarek asked him-. It's a beautiful day.

- Yes, a little while.

Tarek took him off his sleepers and put him on his Converse. It was something he used to do, but now with more reason than ever. He was so exhausted that he couldn't tie them up on his own.

From that morning in the garden came out a beautiful story in Tarek's Instagram. Enzo was struggling with the last touches of his orchid Vanda drawing that Tarek had in the greenhouse. He was very proud of the result but Enzo was very perfectionist, he never found the right moment to regard it finished.

- Can I take you a photo? -Tarek couldn't help to ask him.

- Ok. What's your idea?

- Let's place the picture in the background with all our greenhouse plants and a close-up of you.

- Good. No, hang on. Don't put yourself so near. I look awful today. Some steps back, please.

So far it was a good morning for Enzo. If he could getting out of bed and even out of the house, the perfect day. But he was right, his face looked pale and gaunt after spending almost a week in bed barely moving and eating not very properly. Not even such a good-looking man like Enzo could hide as the illness was increasingly conquer his beautiful features.

Tarek subtitled the photo like: "And he says the picture is beautiful when he's the most beautiful thing here".

- You are an asshole, you know? -Enzo attacked him as soon as he found out about the uploading on Internet.

- What's up now?

- Stop getting me into your social networks without my permission.

- It's not true. I asked your permission.

- And did I give it to you?

- You growled me something.

- Oh, and I'm sure it was very nice what I growled, right?

- I love bragging about my husband. Excuse me. Seemingly I'm breaking records with hearts. It's my most commented uploading. Do you want to read some of the wonderful things they say about you?

- Of course it breaks records. It's because the morbid curiosity. Seeing Efseryan looking like a egyptian mummy causes anticipation.

- Victoria Odinson asks you eagerly you tell her which painters inspire you because she sees a lot of Van Gogh in your orchid.