Peccatori | Damiano David [ENG]

VI

I was not one of the people who complained a lot about my fate. I actually didn't even have anything to complain about. I work in the family business, which I will take over in time, I plan to open my own business soon, I am very well off and I have the best friends under the sun, for whom I would give my life if necessary.

However, like every human being, I had weaknesses, and one of mine was poor immunity. Therefore, the only thing I would want now is to get rid of this damn infection.

I must have caught a cold then, when Damiano and I were rolling around in cold water together, it weakened me severely and I caught a virus that caused bronchitis. I defended myself from visiting the clinic with my hands and feet, only when the shortness of breath prevented me from functioning normally did I move to see a doctor. There were upsides to this, however, because I didn't move from home and it allowed my strained ankle to recover quickly.

The doctor definitely forbade me to leave the house and cool my body, so I was confined to my apartment for a week and couldn't even stick my nose out of it. I was also left to fend for myself; all my friends had already made plans. Victoria went to Denmark to visit her dad and childhood friends. Thomas's mom, and my aunt recently had a birthday and my cousin and I decided to buy her a trip to France, which she had always wanted to visit. We were supposed to fly the three of us, but due to my not so good condition I told her to take some friend with her and go out.

As for Damiano, I am confused to say the least. As soon as we got home he started acting strangely. At first he responded to my messages in a perfunctory manner, and then not at all. I don't mention phone calls, because he hasn't answered those since we landed in Rome. I'm not the type of person who writes to someone and imposes on him. And I especially can't imagine stepping on a man.

However, I can't say I wasn't sorry, because I was damned. Damiano practically overnight broke off contact, and I had no idea what was the reason? Had I done something wrong? After a few days of silence, Damiano wrote me a short message in which he informed me that he was sorry for what was happening and that he would explain everything to me soon. I've never been a patient person, but in this situation all I have left is to wait. I'm not going to pester him, because it will be counterproductive.

Through all this unplanned sickness I was terribly broken. Paradoxically, it's the fault of the medications, which dull me to the point that it's difficult for me to perform simple company-related tasks. When, after sending the report to my father, I got a call from him saying that the file I had given him was out of order and composition, I decided to keep my mind on professional matters.

An all-night cough that was suffocating me prevented me from sleeping that night. Everything calmed down in the morning when, after a horse dose of medicine, the bothersome attacks stopped. My rest didn't last long, because after a while I was awakened by the doorbell.

Stunned, I sat up as if on command and for a moment wandered with my eyes around the room, which was blurry. I reached for the glasses lying on the coffee table and put them on my nose. I wanted to take a peek at what time it was, but it turned out that my phone was dead. Based on what I saw outside the window, it must have been late morning or early noon.

I rose abruptly and accidentally nudged a bottle of water standing next to the couch where I had fallen asleep. I ignored it and focused on the darkness that appeared before my eyes. I stretched my arms out in front of me as if to catch my breath. The darkness subsided, so I finally reached the door.

I opened it cautiously, and somehow the sight of my visitor did not particularly surprise me. Standing in the doorway was Damiano, whose hair, tousled by the wind, remained in complete disarray. He was leaning against the doorframe with one hand and holding a cloth bag in the other.