Hey guys! This is a oneshot I've had saved for awhile. I hope you like it!

Italicized sections are letters. Bold sections are flashbacks.

Dec. 8, 2013

Dear Kurt,

Hey! How are things? I am fine. University is harder than I expected but I am surviving. I have made a few new friends but we don't really have that much in common. Honestly, some days I miss you and the others so much it isn't even funny. At all.

I found some friends though. We play music in the local coffee shop.

It really sucks, having to write to you in New York. How is NYU? From what I've heard its great but I need to hear it from you. I bet you love it. Do you remember when all you would talk about was how much you wanted to move to NYC? It possessed you. Well, now you have your wish. I can hardly believe it.

This letter is very hard to write. It brings back so many memories. Do you remember the first day of school, Kurt? And how we met in the hall? I think that image is forever burned into my memory. I won't forget it for a long time. And neither will any of my friends. I retold the story many times. I will tell the story to my children one day.

And do you remember that Christmas, that special Christmas, that one right I after I turned seventeen? Do you remember that? I will never forget that, either. That's when I knew.

Merry Christmas, Kurt, and I love you.

Your friend,
Blaine Anderson

It sat in a box, dusty, unsent, untouched for many years but unforgotten.

The snow was falling, that beautiful snowfall that everyone dreams of for Christmas Eve. It wasn't Christmas Eve, though. It was December 8, 2014, a Wednesday. The room was dark, lit only by the warm, consistent glow of the Christmas tree, and the TV, the light changing and flickering as Kurt watched some sitcom on NBC. The volume was low. The remote was, however, near at hand, ready to be grabbed and fiddled with, to turn up the volume.

He glanced at the clock. 7: 55. Time was passing so slowly.

Kurt pulled his legs up and rested my chin on them, like a six-year-old in and twenty-something-year-olds body. He wanted to be six again. Or sixteen, even.

Especially sixteen again.

He drew breath sharply, as a pain seemed to flash through his entire being.

"You really want to go to New York, don't you, Kurt?" His voice was quiet, soft, as if he was unwilling to break the silence that had enveloped he and Kurt for the past ten minutes.

Kurt looked up at him, from his cozy spot lying against his leg. "How did you know I was thinking about that?"

"You get that look on your face, is all," he said. "I think I know you well enough by now, to tell what you're thinking about."

Kurt smiled and relaxed again, gazing into nowhere again. "I'm never going to get anywhere while I live in Ohio, Blaine. It's all I want, to get out of here, to get away. I just know everything's waiting for me, out there."

"But you don't even know what you want to do with yourself."

"I will someday. And whatever I do decide to do, I know NYU will help me get there."

Blaine shook his head. "You are crazy, Kurt. You really are."

Kurt turned abruptly onto his back and looked straight up at him. "Do you really think so, Blaine?" he asked. He sat up, not taking his eyes from Blaine's. "Am I just being stupid? Do you really think I'll ever get anywhere in life?"

His head tipped very slightly to one side. "I don't know what I'm going to do with my life, or what you'll do with yours, but I know one thing." His hand snaked out and took his. "You are going to be huge someday, Kurt, and I will be beside you all the way."

Kurt shivered. Maybe it was Blaine's voice, floating from his speakers as he sang from the TV screen, out of reach, now and forever after.

Or maybe it was his memory, haunting him, now and forever after.

End.