This was hard to write. He couldn't just turn 180°, so he's ... yeah. Read it.


You … Kurt. How can you write something like that, after all we've done together? How can you tell me to end my life? You know I love the world, Kurt. How?

Why did you grow this cold, Kurt? You are not the boy I love. It's him I wrote a letter to, not this cold-hearted man, hungry for money.

What, Kurt, would your father say? Do you even talk to Burt anymore? I did, just yesterday. You haven't called him for so long. Last time he saw you was at your wedding, and back then you barely spoke to him.

He said you changed for the worse. I told him, that it was a choice you had made by yourself, and whatever you were to choose would be the right thing.

I believed in you.

Do you remember how I promised to every show you would be in? And how I would come with flowers? Do you remember how you cried of happiness when I told you that? How you told me you loved me over and over? Does he, your husband? Does he show up at every show and throw roses at your feet? Does he love you like I do? Does he sigh your name and look you in the eyes? Does he kiss your sweetly when you need it? Does he hug you tightly when you've cried in your sleep? Does he listen when you talk about your family? Do you even talk about them anymore?

Do you visit your mother's grave or call Finn? Do you ever write to hear about your nephew? You forgot them all, didn't you?

But I refuse to believe that you feel nothing for me anymore. Kurt, did you try to find others because we were too intense? Was there too much passion?

I do remember how we started to fade from each other. It didn't just happen. You didn't want me near you. But I can't bring myself to believe that it was due to a lack of love.

Do you remember the magic between us when we touched each other? Skin on skin in cool air could feel like a burning summer heat. I can still feel your gentle fingers on me if I focus hard enough. But what seem to cover my skin are the scars you left with your hash last words and the rough treatment you gave me.

But you remember the Friday poets? The little things we laughed at together there. The slight sobs they drew from you at times. Tell me, Kurt, didn't you love it? Didn't you also want to stay in that world, in that little paradise, and let the rest of the world go on outside. I loved bringing you there, because everything was raw emotion. Just like us.

But don't tell me that we weren't lovebirds anymore. If your love for me really did end, it was only you who felt that way, Kurt. I dragged you to the couch and held you tight into me, pleading you to just be with me. To spend some time doing nothing but breathing the same air for a while. You refused me over and over, and so I stopped asking. We stopped talking.

Kurt, the more I write, the more I remember. It all feels like a haze.

You used to be so open and pure. You made a great deal about being honest. You were so much an inspiration for me that I can hardly think I'll ever find something like that again. But if you really are happy with your new husband, and you really do hate me, then there's nothing I can do. Nothing I should do.

People keep saying that I deserve better than you. Is that true, Kurt? Because when we started out, I thought of myself as the lucky one. The one who had one a perfect love to live with. Something I could keep with me my whole life.

I'm sorry for the tears on the paper, Kurt. I didn't want to cry, but it hurt so bad to read your reply. It's not healthy for me to do this, is it? I don't want it to hurt anymore, Kurt. But every morning I wake up and my heart breaks. You're not next to me in the bed like you are in my dreams. This is what hurts the most. To admit I lost you despite everything we did together. All the times we made love and cried in each other's arms.

I'm starting to sound like one of my many broken records.

You might not even read this.

How come I still care?

Blaine.


Please don't think that I personally hate Kurt. I love the him. It's just a story. (-;

Also; thank you for the reviews I-: