My dearest Sebastian,

I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you look like shit. You, who always prided yourself on your impeccable appearance, are going to be spending the rest of eternity wearing a suit that looks like it was designed by a blind, alcohol swigging bum armed with a hacksaw, (it's Hugo Boss) and are wearing just enough makeup to make you look like a drag queen that signed a contract with, gag, Maybelline. What were the quacks that were preparing your body for the funeral attempting to do, make you look less dead? Believe me, we're all very familiar with the concept that Sebastian Valmont is dead boys, no amount of foundation or concealer is going to hide that fact. I mean you've always been a beautiful boy with your golden curls, bright blue eyes, and delicate features but this is just ridiculous. I feel like I'm looking at the slim, non-breasted version of Anna Nicole Smith.
Alright, enough about your disappointing appearance and about how your exit from New York high society leaves much to be desired, although I do blame your heinous attire entirely on Miss Marsha the sun shines out of my tight ass twenty-four-seven fucking Brady. She insisted the suit made you look handsome. I think it makes you look like the smelly cab driver that smashed into you. Jesus Sebastian, couldn't you have found someone a little less naïve and virginal, and I say that in a figurative sense since we both know you were triumphant in crossing that sacred boundary before you croaked, to die for? I mean she's the polar opposite of you and me. She represents everything you and I looked down upon and frowned at. She is just a copycat of every other innocent, inexperienced girl that you corrupted with the powerful thrusts of your cock. She is no different from the hundreds of women you fucked and left in their beds, and in fact as I look at her now wearing her cheap black dress I daresay she's far plainer than the majority of them. It's safe to say the poor girl has discovered the softer side of Sears.

However, I will congratulate you on once again shocking the many sheep that think themselves worthy to play on our playground. You were always one to go for shock value, maybe that's why you did it. Maybe that's why you decided to leap in front of that cab in a perceived act of nobility; you wanted to stun the masses into silence. For once, no could utter a bad word about Sebastian Valmont. I prefer to believe this scenario. For my own piece of mind I'll choose to believe that your mischievous and devious nature finally got the best of you, and that you achieved and won the shock effect you were going for and just loss points on the execution due to lack of survival. I simply cannot and refuse to believe that your endgame was simply to save Miss Purity 1998. No one changes that much in an entire lifetime much less a few days, even if you did pop the virgin's cherry. No, I will honor the Sebastian I know to be the true Sebastian Valmont and applaud your exit from society and how you once again managed to pull the wool over these designer clad sheep's' eyes. Although, pardon me if my applause doesn't sound entirely enthusiastic; I'm not in the best of moods. You're gone, and I'm still here. Who would have expected that right? I with my habitual drug usage and party lifestyle am still among the living, while you're…somewhere else. I will not say in a better place because even taking into account your final sacrifice, we both know that the pearly gates hold no spot for either you or I. However, as I write this you're being held accountable for your copious malevolent actions while I'm still free to go about ensuring my place right beside you. In truth I always expected to be the first to go, most likely due to some sort of accidental overdose, while you followed many years later after losing a long drawn out battle with AIDS that you contracted from some Columbian supermodel and proceeded to pass on to a myriad of poor, unsuspecting women before you were diagnosed. Not that I'm entirely sure you would have stopped sowing your wild oats even after you had been diagnosed, at least not until you were too weak to get properly hard. At least that was how I always envisioned it. Well now that that lovely picture has been shot to shit, I'm left standing here staring at your pathetic looking corpse alone and directionless. I know we were never prone to openly admit our innermost thoughts and feelings, but honestly there's really no better time than the present. I mean after all, you are dead. I can hear your mocking tone right now clear as day telling me to stop being a fucking drama queen like you have a million and a half times, but in all honesty Sebastian what the fuck am I supposed to do now? You were one of the extremely few people I could tolerate in this world and were one of only two whose company I actually enjoyed and proceeded to seek out. You were my confidante, my playmate, my equal. God fucking Christ I wish that idiotic bet was never made. This whole fucking mess and debacle is all over someone who should never have poked or prodded her underprivileged, unworthy self into our affluent and luxurious bubble to begin with, much less been on your radar. She was a virgin, intriguing and uncommon in our world of deceit and pleasurable sin, but certainly not cause to lock your dick in a box and present her with the only key. I know, without any fucking doubt, that she was not the only one you desired. I also know without any fucking doubt that if you were going to try your hand, or should I say your dick, (alright perhaps if we're being honest your heart) at monogamy that she was not the one you were meant to attempt such a venture with. Lying serves no purpose now Valmont, you're dead. You and I both know who you belonged with, whom you were meant to be with, and it was certainly not dull as watching grass grow Annette Hargrove. Now that I really think about it, I can't even be that angry with you. I know that I said I was, but when I think about your decision and in effect what you gave up I simply have to laugh. I've reached the point where it amuses me. Smart move you fucking idiot.

All right I'll stop bashing you. Despite what you may think, my purposes for writing this letter aren't to degrade you, (although you more than deserve it) but I'm attempting to tell you that you'll be extremely missed. You held a spot in my life that can't be filled by anyone else. Don't let this go to your already oversized ego Sebastian, but I guess I'm trying to say you're irreplaceable. You kept life interesting with your charm, your wit, and your unceasingly endless need to push all boundaries and break all rules. You were an equal I could match and challenge myself against time and time again. Stop smiling Valmont; I know if the situation was reversed you would be saying the same of me, not to mention the fact that you're dead and you look like shit. Honestly you really don't have much to be smiling about. I however, am very much alive and look like I could be ready for a photo shoot, you stupid fuck. But yeah, I miss you. Everyone is like "Oh, poor Annette!" Bullshit, poor me! I grew up with you, I've known you forever. She knew you for a few days and fucked you; I mean big deal who hasn't?! I just wish you could walk through those church doors and correct everyone's opinion of you. They're making you out to be this hero that your not, and insulting the memory and legacy of the real Sebastian Valmont that you worked day in and day out for. I mean you were no saint. You sinned with the very best of them, and few were able to reach your, or I guess technically our, level. I mean we were all perfectly happy, immersed in our own various debaucheries, sins, and addictions until she had to come along with her holier than thou attitude and crushing moral code and fuck it all up. Whatever, I'm more than sure that she'll soon realize that she should never have meddled where she didn't belong,

and all that she was good for was a lousy fuck. Now that you have departed I'll simply have to scheme in your absence. I know that I will have a more than willing partner in crime to aide me in this endeavor and most likely all future ones. I was not lying when I said you were irreplaceable, but I do need a confidante and playmate. I think it seems only fitting and I'm sure you'd agree. Jesus Christ could you look any deader? You're kind of creeping me out. Alright Sebastian, as much as I wish I could stand here all day and stare at your corpse, I can't. Sorry but I can't hang around this depressing scene forever, and it's not like you're going to wake up and tell me not to depart. I have places to go, things and people to do, plans to concoct. I'm just going to leave you with the knowledge that my life is never going to be the same, and that it is going to be a lot less enjoyable. Excellent, your death has turned me into a depressive. Well on the bright side I can start taking Zoloft. Sebastian, you are and were one of a kind. Not a day will go by that I won't think of you, and if I'm ever caught in any sort of moral dilemma, unlikely as that may be, I'll simply think of what of you would do. I guess in my own twisted, demented way I'll help keep you alive. Well, I guess that's it. Have fun fucking and frolicking in the fiery hell I am certain you're currently residing in. Save me a seat buddy, with the way I've always lived (and especially how I've been living since your demise) I could be joining you a lot sooner than you would expect and I would like.

Your Best Friend (Always and Forever),

Blaine

P.S. I fucked Kathryn once in ninth grade when I was extremely inebriated. She got a huge kick out being my one and only heterosexual fuck. Your gay best friend got to have what you coveted for years. I know that will piss you off, haha. Toodles.