blaaines:

For Kourtney, even though she sucks.
In which Kurt dies and Blaine writes him a letter.

Dear Kurt,

I miss you.

That is all I really have to say—there’s not much more to it. I miss you.

 At first, those words made me sick. I miss you, I miss Kurt. My Kurt. I’d say them and each time it would hit me: you were gone. Sometimes I’d get so upset that I’d pick up the phone to call you, because you know how to make everything better. It’s like you have the secret on what to do and every right word to say. Once I even ran over to your room, but I stopped short right before I knocked on your door. Well, it’s not your door anymore—it’s the person’s who replaced you door. It’s the person’s who is not you.

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