Don't Criticize me!

⇠Whattya Want From Me⇢

~Nigel's P.O.V~

Three more days blurred by, and the younger male wasn't sure if it was intimidation from his co-worker or the guilt that gnawed at his stomach. Entering his apartment, Nigel's shoulders were coiled with tension, tossing his keys and wallet onto the small table next to him and then made his way toward the bedroom. Peeling off his work shirt and then plopped down onto the bed, burying his face into his pillow. He psyched himself up for the last two days to either call or text the older male, but every time he picked up his phone, the male found himself letting his nerves get the best of him or drinking. The baker knew it was self-destructive, but at the moment he didn't care; he just wanted the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach to go away. He wanted the thoughts of Oscar to go away, but half of him knew that ever since the older grump entered his life, everything seemed better. He was happier and found himself wanting to roll out of bed. Sighing, Nigel unburied his face, pulled his phone from his pocket, and scrolled until he found the older male's name. Chewing his bottom lip as his hands shook slightly.

Hey, I don't know if you got my message or not. But can we talk? - 12:11

Letting out a shaky sigh, the male leaned his phone against his forehead. Part of him knew that there was no point in trying; with how they ended things, Oscar would just become another hazy memory of Nigel's. A regret that would haunt him for the rest of his life, but a small voice in the back of his head planted a small seed of hope. As heated as their argument was, the younger male could see the pain that flashed across the critic's face; he couldn't ignore the small swell of tears that formed in the corner of his eyes as they continued. That small part of him wanted to be selfish and somehow convince the older male that they could just stay in Paris. Sheild Oscar from the rest of the world as he selfishly kept the man to himself. Nigel let his phone slide off his forehead, disappearing into the comforter and then draped an arm across his face. It felt like hours passed before the male exhaled loudly, propping himself up with his elbows, and then slid out of bed, walking toward the bathroom.

The tension that was in Nigel's shoulders seemed to dissipate after his shower. Wrapping a fluffy towel around his waist, the younger male used a smaller towel to dry his hair. Trudging back into the bedroom, the male sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes flicking toward the discarded device. Anxiety started bubbling in his chest once more as he stared at his phone for a long moment. Shaking the creeping thoughts to the back of his head, the male quickly slipped on a loose-fitting shirt and sweatpants before making his way toward the kitchen. The thought of food caused the baker's stomach to lurch slightly, but it also seemed to be the only thing grounding him at the moment.

He knew if he stopped and let his mind wander, then he'd end up crying; normally Nigel wouldn't neglect his emotions. But you've never been in love before either. The small voice in the back of his head supplied quickly. Nigel loosened the death grip he had on the pan, quickly finishing cooking and plating his food, scooping his phone up from the bed before plopping down onto the couch. The silence caused the younger male's heart to pound against his chest as his hands shook slightly. His eyes slowly shifted toward his phone, picked it up, and noticed he had a text.

Now you want to talk? I thought you wanted me to delete your number and forget about you. - 1:00

I was angry; I didn't mean it. -1:01

You sounded like you did... What do you want, Nigel? - 1:05

To talk... 1:06

We are talking; you're not saying anything. 1:10

Can we please meet somewhere? I need to see you face-to-face instead of on a screen. - 1:12

For a few seconds, Nigel observed the three little dots appear, and then they vanished. His blood rushed to his ears, muffled everything, and his heart thudded against his chest. The younger man put his phone down on his chest and returned his focus to his meal. The man had too many questions running through his head to concentrate. Once done, he pushed himself up from the couch, shuffling toward the kitchen once more, dumping his plate into the sink with a frustrated growl. Wincing slightly as the plate shattered against the cool metal, Nigel ran a hand through his hair, leaning against the counter as he blinked back the tears that started swelling in the corner of his eyes once more. A soft chime came from the living room, causing the younger male's heart to seize, scrambling into the living room, and lunging himself onto the couch, scooping his phone up in the process.

I have a trip coming up. I'm going to London for a week; maybe then Nigel. But I'm going to tell you the truth: I doubt this is going to go the way either of us want. - 1:30

That works for me! Where are you going in London? -1:31

Why do you care? - 1:33

Humor me, please, Oscar... -1:34

In some small villages, they want me to check out a few small cafes and write an article about the food. -1:37

Have fun! - 1:40

Everything around him seemed to slow down, while his heart beat heavily in his ears. The tears that were gathering finally spilled down his pale cheeks, biting down on his lower lip until copper engulfed his mouth. A million thoughts were rushing through his brain; without even thinking, Nigel closed the message and then opened an airline app to buy a ticket, and then rushed toward his bedroom to start packing.