Alphabet Klaine: Finn
Well, day twelve is going to be a sad one. I think the warnings and triggers for this one are obvious just from the title, but I’m cautioning everyone anyway. It’s just little moments throughout Kurt and Blaine’s life, early years mostly, that revolve around how Finn’s death continues to be a presence in their lives and how they cope and grief with that.. This one is one of the few I have more ideas for, so I may or may not have another drabble to continue this at some point.
So warnings and triggers: Finn, mentions of character death, and grief.
There’s a few pictures at the end, too.
“Don’t be ridiculous. No, I don’t know when we’ll get married yet. Spring or autumn, I’d say.”
Blaine hummed and blinked awake. It was a little after dawn and Kurt was sitting in the window seat in his room. Pale, long, and lean, Kurt stretched his bare legs out in front of him and kept his gaze out the window. It wasn’t a sight Blaine had ever thought he’d see. Only a year ago Kurt had been so nervous about being naked, even inside one of their bedrooms, that he’d put his shirt and underwear on before he ever climbed out from under the covers.
Almost a year in New York had certainly changed Kurt’s stance on nudity. Blaine was glad in a way, he’d get to see that for years to come. They were fiancés now. Fiancés! Kurt had said yes to spending the rest of their lives together.
“I don’t know if there’ll be doves,” Kurt was saying. He laughed brightly and shook his head. “Finn, no. Don’t you dare. And no ice sculptures. They’ll melt and flood the place. Listen, I’ve got binders full of possibilities separated by seasons and Ohio and New York, but I think New York is going to be our spot. We’ll both be living there, so you’ll have to come visit for the wedding, and–”