The Pastry Corner (mxm)

2. Haze

Hey, loves!

So, second chapter is here. At the beginning I wrote this chapter and the next one all in one chapter. But 5000 words seemed like a lot, although almost everything is played at the same places.

So, let me know! Do you prefer longer, but fewer chapters? Or shorter ones?

About Oakley, I really don't know how to describe his hair. Do you guys know Loras from Game Of Thrones? (if you don't, please google him). So yeah, that's our Oak's hair.

Hugs xxx, and remember, every one of you is important!

It was Thursday, the bakery was slightly empty, with few people tapping on their laptops and drinking, occasionally, today's mint tea.

But, despite the comfortable silence in Ms. Adeline establishment, there was someone who kept on spinning nervously.

It was Thursday, three days after Monday. Exactly three days.

The local plant shop didn't take  Oakley's mind so often, and the people that came by were the same as always, bored.

"Oakley, sweetie, perhaps you should go home. You look a little absent-minded, tired perhaps? Is it something wrong with Alice? I thought she was doing alright!" Ms. Adeline spoke, her hands fixing her brown dyed hair that had no interest in covering her grey roots.

Oakley stopped halfway cleaning the 3rd table that Ms. Adeline swore she saw him clean at least 5 times just now. Swatting in a shallow move, the lemony tissue landed on its usual place, Oak's left shoulder. "She's doing good, thank you for asking, ma'am. I've just been having insomnia, that's all."

He knew it wasn't exactly insomnia, even Alice mentioned how he looked agitated and impatient last night when Oakley visited her. It was nothing to worry about, work-related stuff, he answered.

"Bullshit, loverboy here is waiting for someone to go through that door. Maybe you'll be lucky today, I heard that a foreign symphony had a show yesterday, and I bet my ass that your friend Enzo is in it" Juana, her hands never stopping the work on the batter as she formed them carefully unto croissants. 

"You know him?" His heart fluttered slightly as if knowing his last name would make it any different. Oakley wasn't this needy, he had his fair share of boyfriends during college and always considered himself not needy, to the point that that would be the main reason for an ugly breakup. But couldn't deny he felt somewhat attracted by the raven-haired cellist with a fancy foreign name and the almost-too-arrogant ambition to change an old piece.

"I mean, I've heard about a famous cellist stopping by our town, and googling it isn't illegal, so" she explained, Ms. Adeline obviously enjoying this conversation, with an half-smirk. "Oh, Oakley. I'm so winning the lottery today, look behind, chico!"

And that's what Oakley did, not wanting to believe what he was thinking from his friend's words. The man of the hour sat by the same booth, next to the newly bought basil pots, his basil pots, this time alone.

Oakley observed the cellist roll up his dark blue shirt sleeves to his elbow, which now rested on the oh too clean wooden table. The waiter couldn't stop himself from finding the right Enzo tree. It was something he did when he met someone. His last boyfriend called it cute but weird, Oakley stopped carying though. It was so natural to him as feeling the wall's textures in his fingertips, comparing them to his smoth gray clay.

The boy started walking towards the now occupied booth, noticing a small black worn-out notebook on top of the piece of paper from three days ago. He cleared his throat quietly.