Dear Kathryn,

I miss you.

That's about the only thing I can think of to write. I'd write it until my hands hurt and even then I'd write it a thousand more.

Always, Sebastian.


You let go of the letter in your hand addressed to Kathryn and let it fall to the ground.

The ground where her body rests.

Her grave.

This is 3 days after her death.


Dear Kathryn,

I miss you.

Come back to me Katie. I can't live without you.

It's not fair. Why you? Why me? Why us?

Always, Sebastian.


You kneel on the soft grass beside her grave stone and wipe the green moss that's formed on the cold exterior of the stone.

Your lips graze the stone as you place a soft kiss to her tombstone.

And then you place the letter where you placed the last one exactly a year ago.

This is the first year anniversary of her death.


Dear Kathryn,

It's been two years.

Two long, miserable years.

Come back to me.

It's like living a nightmare, only its reality and not all in my head, isn't it?

I don't even know anymore.

Always, Sebastian.


The letter dampens under the soft spray of rain that's beginning to fall.

The ink will smudge when you leave and the words you've taken hours to write will blur into a mess of black.

Like the black that rests in your heart.

You leave the letter sitting atop her gravestone.

This is the second year anniversary of her death.


Dear Kathryn,

Three years have passed without seeing you.

It's death in disguise.

I've not been in your room since you died; it only holds painful memories of you, of us.

Happy 21st birthday.

Always, Sebastian.


Its cold, the wind is howling through the leaves.

Moss has started to cover her name, you brush at it and get most of it off before setting the letter on the ground with a stone to hold it down.

You don't stay long, it's far too cold and depressing to stay longer than you have to.

This is the third year anniversary of her death.


Dear Kathryn,

It's actually sunny outside for once.

Even though it's the middle of winter.

I miss you.

Always, Sebastian.


The sun beats down on your black shirt, it's heating your skin but you couldn't care less.

There's no moss on her gravestone and no wind to blow the letter away.

You drop it to the ground, it falls in the middle of where her body lays.

This is the fourth anniversary of her death.


Dear Kathryn,

Five years.

That's how long it has been since you've graced my presence, five painful years without my only confidante.

Have you missed me too?

Or is it only I who misses you?


It's a cloudy day, but you still feel the heat of the sun that's hidden behind the clouds.

It looks like it's going to rain.

You place the letter atop her gravestone and kneel to kiss her name.

This is the fifth anniversary of her death.


Dear Kathryn,

How do you get my letters?

Tell me your secret, because every time I go back there is nothing there.

Always, Sebastian.


People are gathered around a nearby gravestone as a priest rambles on.

That's what Kathryn's death was like.

All the people who thought they knew her had gathered around to say goodbye to Manchester Prep's most prestigious student.

Only you knew her really.

Only you deserved to be there.

You place the letter by the gravestone and leave.

This is the sixth anniversary of her death.


Dear Kathryn,

Happy 25th birthday.

I would have liked to see your face on your 25th.

You would have been more beautiful then ever. Can you imagine?

Always, Sebastian.


There's a fresh bunch of flowers on the grave beside hers.

There's never any flowers on hers.

You'd hope your letters are enough.

The letter falls from your hand, you leave it where it drops.

This is the seventh anniversary of her death.


Dear Kathryn,

Is it stupid that I feel obliged to call you Kathryn and not Katie?

Would you slap me if I did?

Eight years, Kathryn.

Eight years I haven't seen you, talked to you, smelt you, played with your hair or looked into those beautiful green eyes you had.

God I miss you.

Come back to me Kathryn, come back to me, Katie.

Always, Sebastian.


There's a solemn rose on her grave today.

You stop and let the letter drop to the ground and land next to the beautiful red rose that someone has put there.

For the first time in seven years you let a small tear run from your cheek and seep into the ground when it drops.

This is the eight anniversary of her death.


Dear Kathryn,

It's getting harder to write to you.

I've moved to L.A to pursue my career choice of photography.

I flew in especially to deliver this letter personally to you, Kathryn.

Always, Sebastian.


Your shoes crunch the few leaves that have fallen onto her grave.

You stand still and let the wind take your hair as you stare at her gravestone.

Once again moss has formed near her name, this time you don't wipe it away.

You leave it be.

This is the ninth anniversary of her death.


Dear Kathryn,

This will be my last letter to you.

10 years have passed since I've been writing to you.

And a year has passed since my last letter and for that whole year I wondered what I would say to you next.

I never came up with anything besides 'I miss you'.

My career has boomed and I've actually created my own company, named after you. Katie.

I'm sorry to not be able to write to you anymore, Kathryn.

I hope you know why.

Again, I've flown into Manhattan to deliver this letter, hopefully you appreciate the gesture.

Always and forever, Sebastian.


It's later then your usually letter drop.

The night sky is dark and lit up by the stars and a dim lamp post light that stands at the corner.

The wind howls quietly beneath the trees.

It brings you to silent tears.

There's a rustling of fallen leaves on the ground, you turn around and catch a glimpse of a shadow behind some trees.

It approaches you slowly.

Finally it reaches the dim light, the face of the person illuminated dimly by the corner lamp post light.

Your eyes light up.

Their eyes light up.

A warm, soft smile reaches both your and the person's faces.

"I missed you."


"Kathryn? This…how…I don't…what?" Your voice breaks as several stranded tears roll down your cheeks.

"I'm sorry."

You run to her.

You don't care how stupid you look running to her, or how pathetic or pussy whipped you seem. It's been far too long without her and you don't plan on wasting a second longer without her.

Your arms go around her tiny body. She shivers in the cold.

"Kathryn." You whisper, smelling her scent for the first time in 10 years.

"Sebastian." She whispers back.


She buries her face into the warmth of your coat and wraps her arms around you neck, bringing your face to hers and kissing your lips softly.

"It doesn't matter. I'm sorry. For everything. For not telling you why, or where."

"I missed you so much."

You sob into her hair.

"I missed you too, Seb." She pauses and strokes your hair. "I'm sorry."

"It doesn't matter." You tell her. "Nothing does anymore."

She kisses your cheek softly and strokes your golden curls.

Life without Kathryn was hell.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Katie."

"Yours. I'm all yours."

Your arms wrap tighter around her. You're never letting her go. Not ever.

Something a bit different.

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