LOVE NOTE: The rating for this fic was changed from M to T, as it was originally supposed to only be at a T mistake, there.

A/N: This was just a small idea that popped into my head as I finished up chapter two. It's supposed to serve as an epilogue; hopefully it does just that!

Lots of love and KLISSES,


Dear Meygan,

It's strange calling you by your first name; but I guess it's the most appropriate way for me to address you, given the circumstances. And what strange, confusing circumstances they are.

I needed to talk to you, someway, somehow. Although what I'm about to say would be so much easier to tell you in person, it is evident that neither you nor I are ready for that sort of communication yet. So I find myself sitting here, pencil in hand, about to expose some of my most personal feelings to you.

It's my eighteenth birthday, to begin with. I haven't seen you since my eleventh, and even then you weren't really…there. Honestly, I felt as if those bottles you kept hidden under your bed—yes, I knew about them—were more paramount to you than I was. You saw my father hit me. You saw, and did nothing to stop it. Instead, you'd retreat into your room and raise a bottle to your mouth in hopes to drown out your problems with beer. But now that I think about it, there really wasn't anything you could have done to stop him, was there?

I'm not writing this to criticize or make you feel guilty.

I just wanted you to know that, even after seven years, I still think about you. I think about you all the time. I remember your bright smile, I hear your wonderful laughter, I still smell traces of that perfume you always wore—the one that smelled like lilies—on the old cardboard box full of my belongings that I refused to part with. But above all, I think about how he hurt you. Even now, I have scars covering my body, like permanent scraps of evidence of what we went through during those long years. I now realize that I wasn't the only one who let the battlefield bleeding. He scarred you, too. Not necessarily physically, but emotionally. The aftermath of such traumatic memories will always haunt us.

Despite this, I still won't hesitate to say that I do (and will always) love you. And that I really miss you.

It's been hard adapting to such different environments. I have a little sister now (she's fifteen and really beautiful, she reminds me so much of you in that way) and an overzealous Labrador retriever. Marc and Janine are great foster parents…I think you'd like them. I currently go to Dalton Academy. It's a private school with an all-male student body. I'm proud to say that I excel academically. Friends come easily to me, as well. I'm also involved in several extra-curricular activities there.

Do you remember how you and I used to sing Beatles and Rolling Stones songs together? You always told me "People can take your liberties, but your voice flies forever". You were right, and that inspired me to join the glee club; so that my voice could be heard. And every song I sing, I sing for you. Because, no matter what, you'll always be my mother.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

I hope you are doing well, and send my love your way.


Your son,

Blaine Anderson

Blaine slowly folded the letter into thirds and slipped it into the crisp white envelope that was sitting on the coffee table. Then he sat back on the love-seat, letting out a deep breath of relief. After hours of fastidious erasing and deep contemplation, he'd finally written it. There was still so much that remained unspoken, but he'd taken his first tentative steps. With every caress of pencil against paper, his fear of flying slowly diminished. Blaine picked up the envelope and peered out the window. The postal service truck sat lazily on the curb. The officer, satchel slung around his neck, was making his daily route along the block.

Blaine turned around and looked over at Kurt, who nodded wordlessly.

Motivated by his encouragement, Blaine opened the front door and went out to meet the postal officer, to whom he handed the letter. They exchanged brief greetings before parting.

Blaine paused at the doorway, glancing over his shoulder as the truck pulled away, taking his letter with it, before he continued back inside, Kurt watched him slouch back down onto the love-seat.

"How do you feel?" he asked. Blaine grinned, squeezing his hand playfully.

"Free," he replied. The younger boy smiled back at him, then leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his lips. Blaine laughed light-heartedly, before kissing him back.

And, for the first time in his life, Blaine's heart spread its timid wings and soared.

The End.

Hope you enjoyed it!

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