A/N. Another one of my small creations. It was actually my audition for this RPG and I got in! There will be drabbles of real writing and then others will be letters.

Hello, sweetheart!

So, if you are reading this I would like to wish you a very very happy Christmas, sadly I don't get to spend it with you but I'm still there, in that large heart of yours. I miss you. I miss you every day. You are probably sick of me even saying it but I do darling, there isn't a second I'm not wishing to be close to you, to hold you or to be held. You're my everything, your my light, my guide, my home. I love you, Kurt Elizabeth Hummel with every atom of my body.

Now, enough with all the sloppy stuff, I know why you have kept reading this letter. Your Christmas presents! Well, if you would ever be so kind as to walk to our bedroom. Upon the top of the wardrobe, stuffed right in the corner is a shoe box. Don't roll you eyes, I know you are, this is romantic, I promise. Well, as romantic as I can get. So, get that box down and open it up.

Inside should be a scrap book. Don't worry if it looks old or is torn a little. I have had it since the day I met you, no lie. Now, here's a trip down memory lane...

The morning before I met you I set off to buy a book, inside I was going to collect all my notes from the rest of the school year but I was so wrong. I met you; I fell in love with you from the moment I laid my eyes on you. I shoved that pocket watch back in my pocket and took your hand and I felt nothing but electricity.

So, inside this scrap book is our memories. Little passages from my teenage self gushing over how perfect you are - silly photos we took which I have stuck in. It passes on, believe me, I think I have written a 100 pages... There are things I have written about our first fight, first kiss, and first time. Every special moment is laid out in this book, even the stupid silly ones where I just ramble on about how adorable you were when you made me watch a episode of 'America's Next Top Model' and the way you were judging every girl, you were just, so perfect. You still are.

Now, back to the pocket watch. Inside this box should be another box. I know, it's like box-inception. If you haven't guessed already inside is the very same pocket watch the day I met you. But here's the twist. I didn't even realise I did it when I did but apparently I pressed the button upon the top, since the first day I met you the stop watch has been going. Crazy, right? It tells the exact time we met. It baffled me how it hasn't even run out or just stopped it's self but at the same time I see it as a sign, the clock will run for as long as we love each other. Oh and I also had it engraved, you may see 'I've been looking for you forever' upon in. My father would kill me if he knew I engraved it, it was my grandfathers and everything...

And before I run outta paper I'd like you to know you have one present left, but you will have to wait until I get home to have it, and no it isn't me! It's not much but, it's the best I can do. Now I'm quoting Moulin Rouge, I really need to get some sleep..

I love you baby, I need you to stay strong for me. I know you can do it. I know you are able to hold your head high. I miss you like crazy, I love you. I am always with you, always.

Merry Christmas, Sweetheart. Love from, your Prince, Blaine. ox.

Slinking back into his cot at the positioned tent in the middle of Iraq Blaine let out an exhausted sigh. He missed home. He missed Kurt, his beautiful face to wake up to in the morning, the warmth of his hold and the small kisses he would pepper him in as a he awoke.

He missed the fresh smell of coffee, the simple daily chatter, the small and simple things in life, he missed.

He let out another sigh as his half dirty palm came up to rub the sleep from his eyes, looking to find his torch upon his bed to unfold light to break through the dim darkness. The small muttered of gruff voices could be heard outside and a kick of a stone, Blaine waiting till they disappeared to pull something from his pocket, something he held close all day in a desperate hope for a second to spare just to read, now was that time.

He brought out the white paper that had slightly crumbled, admiring the neat straight way the stamps had been stuck on, rolling his eyes as he let out a slight chuckle. Kurt was so perfect, in everything he did. His fingers traced over the seal, fingering at the paper before hooking his thumb underneath, tearing through it to bring out a small pocketed letter. A beaming smile came to Blaine's face as he leant forward and smelt it, a tear coming to his eye as he smelt the distant fragrance of Kurt. They had promised to spray somewhat aftershave or something to remember each other by upon their letter, encase it and send it away just for that something to hold on to.

It broke Blaine's heart, smelling Kurt but not holding him nor seeing him in his arms. But this would do for now, it had too.

He unfolded the paper in his hands, noticing his them shaking as he did so and his finger tips holding onto the paper with as little pressure as he could, treating it with the most delicate touch. His eyes slowly skimmed over the words, his heart pounding in his chest as he took in the small details, the way Kurt's pen would curve, the slight ink blotches and Blaine made out the slightest tear trace.

As it came to the end of the letter Blaine read and studied every letter that Kurt had marked down, as if he was holding onto the moment, not wanting to let go and allow reality to drag him back. But it did, and it hurt. He slowly folded the letter, placing it back into its envelope before bring out a small picture, a picture of he and Kurt upon a wintery day in central park, their cheeks and noses red, Blaine looking clean and not tired for once. He loved that day; he missed that day but held onto the memory.

Leaning forward he kissed the small face of Kurt's, pulling back with a sigh as he wished away the ushered tears.

Blaine missed home, he missed Kurt.

Dear Prince Charming,

Blaine, you're incredible. I'm just sitting here crying over the scrapbook and crying over the watch and crying over that picture, and I just can't even take it. God, Blaine, you're perfect and there's no way around it. You're a perfect human being and my perfect boyfriend and I just want you home so I can hold onto you and never ever let go. I need you Blaine, more than you know. I need you.

And you know, Blaine, you know me too well. I rolled my eyes right as I read to go find a shoebox, and actually gasped, as you said not to. You know me perfectly, Blaine. It's crazy.

I've literally been sitting here with the scrapbook and sobbing over it for the past two hours. It smells like you, Blaine. It smells so much like you and your stupid cologne that I pretend to hate but I actually love and it's just you and I don't even know what to say besides I love it. I love it with all of my heart and I'm not letting go of it until you come back. All of these pictures—Blaine, in half of them we're, like, teenagers, and this is all so precious. And I love that one picture of us on Halloween when you were Batman and I was Robin— how old were we, eighteen? We went trick or treating and I remember wanting to hold your hand so god damn badly, so I just held onto arm like I was pretending to lead you around, but I just wanted to feel you. I remember that night. We went back to my house and we started feeding each other candy, and then I threw one at you and you tackled me… I miss that. I miss it so much, Blaine. I can't begin to thank you enough for this whole scrapbook, because it's bringing back all these memories and I just can't even take it. Oh my god, I just looked at a picture I took of you when you were shaving. I remember, I made you cut your chin, and I started freaking out.

And the watch. Blaine, it's perfect. It still says 9:47. That was the time I saw you upon the stairs, when I cast my eyes upon you for the first time, your adorable puppy eyes. I felt my heart skip a beat, Blaine. I really did. And then you held my hand, you held my hand down an open corridor, where people could see. That was like speaking a foreign language to me and expecting me to understand it. And when you sang the song, our song, I knew that you were someone I couldn't let slip from my life. That day, Blaine. November 9th, 2010 was the best day of my life because it was the day I found you. There was no regrets, just love.

Oh my god, another one? Another present! Blaine, I hardly need anything else. Well, I mean, having you home would be nice. But You've already given me so much.. And that brings me to your presents.

So, in the box should be a basket. It's got all of your favourite shampoos and aftershaves and conditioners and I bought you a new razor, because you need it. And there should be a brush in there, too. And a scissor. I have no idea how they let me send it, but there you have it. You're now able to cut your hair. You're welcome.

Also inside the box is my favourite—and only—sweatshirt. You practically live in it at home, and it killed me to see you leave it behind. Just in case it gets cold over there, I want you wearing it, you hear me? I'm not letting my baby get hypothermia while I'm living in a heated apartment. I will not let that happen.

The second to last one is in another box. I got you boxception, too! But really, open it. So.. there's an elementary school, just up the road. I got permission to ask all of the art teachers to have them make cards for the soldiers, and that's what's in the box. A bunch of them asked what names to put down, and I told a handful of them to give it to Sergeant Blaine Anderson. The ones in the small box are the ones that have your name on them. The ones that are just tied together in a pile with string are for all of the soldiers. Make sure they get them, okay?

Lastly, there should be a pencil case in there, with a bunch of new pencils and pens and pencil sharpeners in it. Attached should be 150 new pieces of paper, that way you'll never run out. I would never allow you to run out, not on my watch. There's no way I'm allowing a possibility of you not being able to write to me. No way, no how.

I'm trying, Blaine. Believe me, I'm trying. I'm trying just for you, I promise, lovebug. I miss you too. So much.

Merry Christmas to you too, baby. Love, me.

A/N. Hope you enjoyed! The next chapters are just going to be the letter being sent back and fore and stuff. I will have a plot line running through this.