Fifty Sides of Robin© (Robin Thicke FanFic)

Sex Therapy 1/2: Questions/All Tied Up

"Yeah!" Robin yelled back. "I'm coming." He stepped down the stairs and Julian held up the painting. A bright smile emerged on his face.

"Can you hang it up in your room?"

"Sure. We'll go get a frame tomorrow, okay?" The little boy nodded and laid the picture on the counter. "Get ready to eat you guys." He whipped up a healthy dinner: spaghetti, salad and some breadsticks.

Its funny at how similar they are. They eat professionally. How can you eat so...neat? I don't even eat that neat. Their nose structures and jawlines are identitical. They were completely adorable. "Dad, can I get some more bread?"

"You already had three."

"But I want more," he whined. I knew Julian wasn't going to win this fight, but just like Robin, he picks and picks at it. "Dad." He looked at the man with pure unsatisfaction. "I hate you." He tossed the piece of bread that he had in his hand and got off the stool.

"Julian," Robin sighed after the boy sprinted down the stairs. "He's such a fucking brat." He stacked the plates and dumped them, placing them in the sink after. "Pisses me off."

"Like you, you idiot." I giggled.

"Shut up, Jessy." He started up the stairs. "You can sleep in the guest room because I'm really not in the mood to look at you tonight." I hope he's just saying that shit to piss me off because he's doing an excellent job at it. A few minutes of contemplation, I went up the stairs myself. He won't get away with that shit.

He sat in the room on his windowsill, the large glass window displaying a wonderful view of Los Angeles. It was dark but the bathroom was lit up with candles surrounding the tub. I slammed the door behind me. "What the fuck is up now?!"

"Quiet down. Julian's downstairs." Really Robin, really?

"Julian is downstairs Robin. I'm not going to force whatever's going on with you out of you. I already did that shit and I'm not going to do it again."

"Okay," he said simply.

"Okay? Robin-" I groaned in frustration. I looked through his drawers for a pair of shorts. "You become careless all of a sudden? What's up with that?"

"Its me, Jessy. Robin Charles Thicke. Your man, your lover, and your conceded bitch. Does that make you happy Jessy?"

"Go fuck yourself, Robin." He took that last look at me and looked back out at the windowsill.

(Next morning)

I still slept in his room ladies and gentleman, but nothing went down. I turned over and looked at the beauty laying next to me. I love him, I hate him, I want him, I want to murder him. I couldn't do all of them, although I would like to. I'm an idiot myself for falling in love with him. Why do fools fall in love? If fools fall in love, then why couldn't regular people?

I could feel the anger bubbling in his soul as he slept and really, he wasn't sleep. His eyes were just closed and his chest was rising softly. Sleep is when you're dead to the world for a certain amount of hours with little consciousness. He didn't have little consciousness right now. He knew I was staring at his soft features right now. He felt me.

His arms were lazily laying across his stomach. How poise he was in everything he did. The way he slept, the way he talked, his walk, his career, and his free time. It was a barrier between his heart and my eyes. I couldn't see through him, though I wanted to badly. His bipolar ways made it hard for me to understand him. I wanted all of that but I love him. So I couldn't.

"Why do you do this?" He whispered.

"Why do you hurt me?" It's true and he knew it.

"Because I love you. There's always pain in a relationship." He was fully awake when he was asleep. There's always an awoke soul in a body, whether dead or alive.