~My Life As Rob Pattinson's Psychologist~
{Nothing but sadness covered his face, it made me want to take him in my arms and hold him for endless nights. His eyes told me stories he did not want me to know and I could've sworn he was more than this famous wreck. I knew it}
"I don't know what's wrong with me, I can't concentrate and I can't write anymore!"
He was slim and tall, he sat slouched on the couch in my office, not really knowing what to do with himself. His voice sported a natural British accent, which sounded like velvet to my ears, it was quiet and very pleasant to listen to. When he talked he frequently passed his hands through his tousled brown hair. His eyes darted everywhere, hardly making eye contact as he explained how he was feeling and shifted his weight, crossing and uncrossing his legs. You could tell he was nervous. But, when he did look into my eyes, they were incredibly clear, very large and blue like the ocean. His skin was very light, clear and smooth to the touch. He was neither clean shaved or very scruffy, a bit of stubble was visible at the front. And his lips, the reddest I had ever seen on a man. He had a kind of gorgeousness no other man had. It resembled what one sees on the face of a child and there was only one word to describe it: Beautiful. He very well was the most beautiful man I had ever seen and I caught myself blushing every time he looked at me. And there he was, spilling out everything to me like he had no friends and no family, no one, to talk to. I felt sorry for him. Two years ago, he was a normal human being. Then, well, it changed...
You couldn't say he was ungrateful for all of this. But you could say that he doesn't really know what to make out of it. Everywhere he went, the girls watched in awe while he walked down the street trying to be normal again. The moment someone saw him, the whole world knew where he was and what he was doing. It all happened overnight because of a movie he decided to audition for. And I was his Psychologist. Nothing more, nothing less.
He sighed and looked at me. I nodded to tell him I understood.
"Do you think this fame is finally getting to you?"
He laughed. He always did and his smile was one of his best features.
"I can't say that it wasn't getting to me before. I think now, it's kind of crazy. I don't want to go on airplanes, I don't want to fly in them. Because that means airports and that means paparazzi's everywhere, trying to take my picture and people screaming, crying, wanting my autograph..."
He went on rambling and somehow made it sound interesting. He kept on saying that he should shut up because he thought he was boring me. I told him it was my job and to keep on talking. The more he talked the more I wanted to get to know him, I just wanted to figure him out. He was a mess, like puzzle pieces everywhere, waiting for me to solve it.
He got up and went to the window, he stood looking out. Nothing but sadness covered his face, it made me want to take him in my arms and hold him for endless nights. His eyes told me stories he did not want me to know and I could've sworn he was more than this famous wreck. I knew it.
His face showed he was deep in thought. Then, realizing he was not alone, came back to the couch. As he sat down, his cell phone could be heard from the back pocket of his tight jeans. He eyed me and excused himself while he swiftly walked outside the room.
****PART 2 COMING SOON****
He was slim and tall, he sat slouched on the couch in my office, not really knowing what to do with himself. His voice sported a natural British accent, which sounded like velvet to my ears, it was quiet and very pleasant to listen to. When he talked he frequently passed his hands through his tousled brown hair. His eyes darted everywhere, hardly making eye contact as he explained how he was feeling and shifted his weight, crossing and uncrossing his legs. You could tell he was nervous. But, when he did look into my eyes, they were incredibly clear, very large and blue like the ocean. His skin was very light, clear and smooth to the touch. He was neither clean shaved or very scruffy, a bit of stubble was visible at the front. And his lips, the reddest I had ever seen on a man. He had a kind of gorgeousness no other man had. It resembled what one sees on the face of a child and there was only one word to describe it: Beautiful. He very well was the most beautiful man I had ever seen and I caught myself blushing every time he looked at me. And there he was, spilling out everything to me like he had no friends and no family, no one, to talk to. I felt sorry for him. Two years ago, he was a normal human being. Then, well, it changed...
You couldn't say he was ungrateful for all of this. But you could say that he doesn't really know what to make out of it. Everywhere he went, the girls watched in awe while he walked down the street trying to be normal again. The moment someone saw him, the whole world knew where he was and what he was doing. It all happened overnight because of a movie he decided to audition for. And I was his Psychologist. Nothing more, nothing less.
He sighed and looked at me. I nodded to tell him I understood.
"Do you think this fame is finally getting to you?"
He laughed. He always did and his smile was one of his best features.
"I can't say that it wasn't getting to me before. I think now, it's kind of crazy. I don't want to go on airplanes, I don't want to fly in them. Because that means airports and that means paparazzi's everywhere, trying to take my picture and people screaming, crying, wanting my autograph..."
He went on rambling and somehow made it sound interesting. He kept on saying that he should shut up because he thought he was boring me. I told him it was my job and to keep on talking. The more he talked the more I wanted to get to know him, I just wanted to figure him out. He was a mess, like puzzle pieces everywhere, waiting for me to solve it.
He got up and went to the window, he stood looking out. Nothing but sadness covered his face, it made me want to take him in my arms and hold him for endless nights. His eyes told me stories he did not want me to know and I could've sworn he was more than this famous wreck. I knew it.
His face showed he was deep in thought. Then, realizing he was not alone, came back to the couch. As he sat down, his cell phone could be heard from the back pocket of his tight jeans. He eyed me and excused himself while he swiftly walked outside the room.
****PART 2 COMING SOON****
3 Comments
so good hurry and finish your story
Oh my god... this is really good. Finish please!!!
Great Story...I hope you'll update soon :)))