Don't Criticize me!

⇠Fly Me to the Moon⇢

The first thing that Oscar registered when he woke up was something was on his chest. The male slowly opened his eyes, scanning his bedroom for a few minutes, groaning slightly. The critic stretched, noticing the mop of dark brown hair brushing up against his chin. The male's eyes widened as the world around him seemed to stop, his eyes slowly looked down, and the critic bit back a gasp as his body tensed. Nigel had his head buried into the man's chest, his thin arms wrapped around his stomach. Oscar stared at the sleeping form, fighting the urge to trace a finger along the other's forehead. Why are you so pretty? The thought made him pause for a moment as he continued staring at Nigel. The small amount of time that he spent with the baker was probably the best moment of the older male's life, and Oscar didn't want their time to end. His thoughts went back to his job; he loved his job. Between the traveling and the food, the male couldn't think of anything else that would make him happy. Except you maybe. Oscar thought, chewing the inside of his cheek.

The thought of quitting sent a mixture of fear and excitement through him; on the one hand, he had plenty of enough money to sustain himself into early retirement since Oscar very rarely spent money on anything else than a hotel or two when his job couldn't find him one in time. It would be easy for the both of them to fall into a domestic lifestyle; Nigel would keep his bakery, and Oscar would either find a job that kept him at home or just let his life's savings handle everything for him. On the other hand, though the thought of leaving the only job he had since he was a teenager scared him, he couldn't ask the baker to leave his job; the younger male's eyes sparkled too much to do that. He's going to have to leave Nigel here and go back home. Nigel made a noise in his sleep, snapping the male out of his train of thought. The younger male yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he glanced around the room. The baker let out a hum, his head falling back against Oscar's chest. "What time is it?" He asked groggily.

Oscar sat up slightly and then leaned forward slightly, grabbing his phone from the nightstand. Mentally cursing for the amount of missed calls he had from his agent, "It's still early," he replied. Nigel groaned, rubbing the remaining sleep from his eyes, before pushing himself off of the other male. Stretching then ran his hands through his messy hair, grabbed his clothing off the floor, and shot toward the bathroom. The older male stared at the closed door for a long minute, flopping back down onto his back, and then dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. He wanted this moment to last a little longer before he royally fucked up and let the best thing that ever happened to him walk out the door. The sound of the shower going caused him to push himself up, sliding out of the bed. Quickly pulling his clothing on, he slipped out of the bedroom into the kitchen.

Ten minutes later, Nigel emerged from the bedroom, slipping his arms around Oscar's middle as he entered the kitchen. "Smells great, babe, but I have to go." He whispered, gently pecking the other's cheek. The younger male slowly let go of him, and panic swelled in his chest as he spun around quickly, grabbing a hold of the baker's wrist. Nigel's green eyes cautiously fell to their hands, a small smirk forming on his face as he let out a small sigh. "You're lucky that you are cute." He muttered, wrapping his arms around the other's shoulders. They fell into a comfortable silence as Oscar cooked them breakfast; the younger male sat on the counter watching the older male and would pass him ingredients every so often. Once finished, the critic held up a plate and stole a quick kiss on the cheek while Nigel laughed, slipping off the counter. Oscar swallowed thickly, poking at his food for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip nervously until he tasted blood. The baker arched an eyebrow, chewing slowly as he stared at the other. "You okay, babe?" He asked after a few minutes.

"No," Oscar replied.

Nigel set his plate down next to him, cautiously sliding off of the counter. The male took a few steps backward, back bumping against the counter as he blocked the exit with his body. The baker inhaled and exhaled softly, gently grabbing a hold of the older male's chin and forcing Oscar to look up. "Talk to me, what's wrong?" He questioned.

The older male picked at his nails nervously for a few minutes then shook his hands and stuffed them into his pockets. "W-What are we doing, Nigel?" He stammered, tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

The younger male narrowed his eyes, cocking his head to the side as his brows furrowed slightly. "Eating breakfast, did you hit your head last night?" He quizzed, with a small smile.

Oscar shook his head violently, letting out a frustrated sigh. The male ran a hand down his face, willing himself not to cry. "No, I mean with us. What are we doing?" He said, gesturing between them.

Nigel swallowed thickly, taking a few steps backward. The loss of the warmth in the other male's hands caused the older male to mentally whine. "Do you not want to be together?" He asked accusingly.

The critic's stomach ached and felt sick; this was not what he had wanted. He wanted an agreement rather than a conflict between them about this. To prevent himself from retaliating, Oscar bit his tongue. He spoke after a few minutes, allowing the tiny flicker of rage to pass through his chest. "Nigel, we can't fool ourselves—I want us to be together! I have to return home eventually; I can't quit my work." He argued.

The younger male snarled, throwing his arms up into the air. Nigel took a few more steps forward, leaning against the wall and folding his arms over his chest. His once bright green eyes were hardened, and Oscar could see the mixture of emotion in them. "So what? You want me to choose between you and my job!?" He shouted.

Oscar tried to inch closer, but Nigel made a noise in the back of his throat that caused the older male to pause. He glanced down at the floor, feeling the hot tears build more. He opened his mouth, but a choked sob escaped instead. "N-No, I would never ask you to choose. I know how much your bakery means to you." He sobbed.

The baker snorted, rolling his eyes. "It sure seems like it, Oscar," he replied.

They fell into an uncomfortable silence. Oscar chewed his bottom lip raw, and copper tasted like copper when he finally spoke again. "We can try long distances; I can fly every weekend." He suggested, holding out a hand.

Nigel pushed himself off the wall, closing the distance between them. Causing the older male to gasp silently and take a few steps backward. "That's not a solution! That's a fucking bandage you want to slap on and come back to it another time." He exclaimed, throwing his arms into the air.

Oscar felt the fury rising again in his chest, and he wished he was fast enough so he could stop himself from talking, but his tears had finally welled up in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks, and his mind was too foggy to reason. "Then what do you want me to do!?" He snapped back.

"Choose!" Nigel responded.

Oscar's owlish eyes fixed on the other male, and the tension in the room increased. The older men's choked sobbing filled the kitchen, and Nigel's eyes grew angrier. The critic wanted to tell himself as he opened his mouth that he would pick the baker, but he had a terrible feeling that Oscar would be lying to Nigel and himself, and that wouldn't be fair to either of them. The elder man's shoulders trembled furiously as his head collapsed. "I-I-I can't." He muttered.

The younger male scoffed, shaking his head, "Typical, delete my number and never talk to me again, Oscar." He demanded, spinning on his heels and walking toward the door. Shortly afterward, the door slammed shut, and the older male flinched as he sank to the floor. Face buried into his knees as he sobbed loudly.