Closer: Tyler, The Creator

18. Gentle

Tyler opened the door as he walked into his place. I walked behind him and watched him curse under his breath as he looked down at his bruised hand.

I followed him to the kitchen, where he turned on the faucet and ran it under water.

I leaned by the door frame. I was hesitant to help him.

He noticed I was standing there and replied.

"There's clean clothes upstairs. You can go shower if you want."

I nodded as I made my way up to the stairs, it took a bit to get to the second floor. I stopped in my tracks as I realized how many rooms there was.

I skimmed by the hall, they all seemed like empty guest rooms until I got to the master bedroom. Tyler's room had a huge record collection with splashes of color throughout it. I was taken aback since I had envisioned a dark room from the start. The walls were a forest green with paintings all over them. They looked expensive too. There was a large shelf by his bed that had all sorts of collectibles. I went into his walk in closet; it smelled like the french cologne he always wore.

I picked out one of his shirts and some boxers from one of the drawers.

I stopped in my tracks as I noticed a picture frame with an older woman and a younger girl in it. My fingers trailed the glass frame before I set it down. They looked familiar; like I had seen the same people in a different picture downstairs somewhere. I thought about it before setting it back down.

I made my way into the bathroom as I prepared the hot shower.

I noticed all the details in the bathroom; from the decorative interior, to the authentic marble vanity and sink. I could only imagine how much it was worth.

When the water was hot enough, I slipped out of my dress as I made my way in.

...

I wrapped my hair into the towel as I slipped on the boxers and shirt. I looked through a drawer on the bottom of the sink cabinet and a first aid kit appeared.

I grabbed it, hoping Tyler would let me bandage up his hand.

I opened the bathroom door, Tyler looking up from his phone on the bed.

"Is it hurting still?" I sat by him.

"Nah, just pulsing a little."

I took his hand as I inspected it, it was rougher than mine.

"Why do you do shit like that?" I opened an alcohol packet with my teeth.

"You were drunk. Who knows what that nigga would've done to you."

I wiped his knuckle with the pad as he winced a little.

"I can take care of myself. I don't need you stalking me all the time." I set a stern tone.

I began to wrap the bandage around his hand.

"I can't help it."

I could feel his glare as I smoothed out the edges around the band, making sure it was secure enough.