Ever Since New York (H.S.) 💌

‎‧₊˚✧ 03 ✧˚₊‧

Chat tell me why y'all aren't voting and reading?? embarrassing. we've had this written for a while because we're trying to have at least 4 chaps ready in advance. anyways, y'all are welcome for this enlightening piece of literature. more harry content soon to come!! 

xoxoxo

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(Dylan's perspective)

" 'Have you ever had one night where you wish you could just disappear? No one knowing where you went?'

I raised an eyebrow, confused by the sudden shift. 'What do you mean?'

He tilted his head toward the door. 'Because if you do, you can come back to my place. Just say the word.' "

I was awakened by the sun shining in my eyes through the drawn-back curtains. Mr. Mikailov's--or Uncle Alek, as I call him-- maids must have come through my room while I was sleeping. I rubbed my eyes and reached for the glass of water from the night before on my bedside table. I popped two Advils into my mouth before swallowing the lukewarm water.

Every morning I wake up in this room, I must remind myself where I am. I'm not in me and my mom's apartment anymore... instead, I'm in Uncle Alek's manor, suffocating in finery. Every morning I wake up here is a punch in the gut. A year ago, I'd wake up to the smell of cinnamon coffee every morning, now I wake to the sound of silence.

I get up from my bed and look out the window. Just as suspected, Uncle Alek's car is gone. So, it's just me and Aunt Natalia. I hated that woman with a passion, and she hated me too. When Uncle Alek took me in after my mother's sudden death, I tried to be nice to Natalia, hoping she'd be the new maternal figure in my life. But she was the complete opposite; there was no maternal bone in that twisted woman's body.

Despite the Advils, my head still pounded through my skull. I padded to the bathroom and brushed my teeth, banishing my morning breath to whatever pit it crawled out of. I combed my hair through with my fingers next which was a battle in itself. My hair was curly like my mom's, so I had to be careful not to make my hair frizzy. I ran hair serum through the chocolate coils to tame any flyaways.

As I threw on a shirt, there was a knock at the door. I froze for a second. Aunt Natalia never knocked—she preferred to barge in unannounced, ready to hurl some insult or complain about how "ungrateful" I was. This knock was different. Softer. More hesitant.

"Dylan? It's Mila," came the gentle voice of one of Uncle Alek's maids. Mila was the only person in this house who didn't treat me like I was an unwanted guest.

"Yeah, come in," I called out, my voice still rough from last night.

Mila opened the door carefully, poking her head in first before stepping fully into the room. She had a kind face, and her dark hair was tied back in the same neat braid she always wore. I'd always liked her because she never pushed too hard, just helped in her quiet, unobtrusive way.

"How are you feeling this morning?" she asked, her eyes immediately going to the empty water glass and the Advil bottle on my nightstand.

"Head's still pounding," I admitted, plopping down on the edge of my bed. "But I'll survive."

She nodded, offering a small smile. "Mr. Mikhailov left early, but he wanted me to remind you that if you need anything, you can call him."

"Right," I said, knowing full well I wouldn't. The last thing I wanted was to bother Alek while he was away on business. Besides, it wasn't him I had a problem with—it was his wife.