Closer: Tyler, The Creator

38. End.

Three Years Later.

"Babe?"

No answer.

I peeked a little through the bathroom door.

"Tyler?"

I watched as he popped out of the closet.

"Fuck, this or that?" He lifted up the shirt in front of him, comparing it with the one he was wearing.

"White."

He nodded, quickly putting the other shirt back.

I hurriedly put on heels as I adjusted the dress in the mirror.

"Is this okay? I feel like it's too tight," I looked down at the dress.

I had put on a little weight since we hired a personal chef a little over a month ago.

He eyed me.

"You get hotter with every premiere," he went in for a kiss, but I moved just in time so it landed on my cheek.

"Red lipstick."

"Can't wait to mess that up later."

I laughed.

We grabbed the last of our stuff as the chauffeur picked us up outside.

...

"You ready?"

"Fuck, I think?"

Tyler held my hand as we made our way through the crowd, the security guard moving in front of us. It was crazy; for once photographers and reporters called on my name.

My manager met with me at the red carpet, telling Tyler and I where to stand.

Tyler held on to my waist as we stepped on the carpet, the flash photography almost blinding us.

"Nadine! how does it feel being the youngest director nominated for an Oscar?!"

"How was it working with the most talked about actors?!"

"Do you care that the biggest directors are calling your film a classic already?!"

I walked past the interviewers as Tyler and I made our way past the commotion. We got to the reception where I greeted other directors, movie actors, and a bunch of famous people that Tyler and I were now mutually friends with.

We heard a bunch of screaming outside, us turning to see who had arrived.

Of course it was him.

"Frank! how was it scoring the music for the film?! any tour updates?!"

The security let him come inside and blocked the reporters that followed him.

He saw us, immediately walking over to us.

"Fuck, it's crazy out there."