A/N: For those of you who might not already know, this is somewhat based off of the book 'Matched' by Ally Condie. It's a-okay if you haven't read the book, you'll still be able to understand what's going on (in due time, at least). If there's anything that's confusing or not stated clearly, please let me know!
In the meantime, I'm SUPER excited for this story! Hope you enjoy ~
Kurt never pictured himself being scared to death on meeting his soon-to-be husband.
In his mind, today was supposed to be the day where butterflies made home in his chest and joy sprinted throughout his veins. It was like all the great love stories said, about Love at First Sight and Meant to Be.
But Kurt did not feel happiness. He did not feel bubbling anticipation or uncontrollable eagerness. No, he sat next to his father on the monorail with his arms hugging tight over his stomach, feeling faint and nauseous.
And he couldn't figure out why.
"Why you lookin' so green, bud?" Burt Hummel, asked, nudging his arm. Tonight, his father abandoned his faded shirt and worn blue jeans for a formal, black tux with a matching tie, his eyes concerned for his son.
Kurt shrugged, not knowing where to begin. For eighteen years he had dreamt of this day, of meeting his one true love. He fantasized about his perfect Match, when they would fall in love, how they would grow old together in Utopia.
Though now, with the reality of the Matching Ceremony actually happening to him and all those repressed doubts of, What if he doesn't like me? What if I don't like him?! What if he smells or is ugly or hates my music taste…?
His dad patted his shoulder. "Nerves, huh?"
This time, Kurt nodded. At least that was the closest definition on what he felt. He turned, staring out the window. Buildings and skyscrapers whizzed by, their shades purple and blue from dusk.
"I remember my Matching Ceremony," Burt continued, probably figuring talking to Kurt would distract him. (Well, it sort of worked). "I was completely terrified. Seeing the girls from all over Utopia at the banquet and thinking...wow, one of them is going to be my wife." Kurt glanced away from the window, and his dad smiled at him. "I could have never prepared myself when I saw your mother for the first time."
"Was she…" Kurt asked, voice a bit soft. "She really was your perfect Match, right?"
"Oh, absolutely!" Burt grinned, as if Kurt asked if the sky really was blue. "Sure, when we were first married, it took some time to navigate around each other. You're starting a new chapter of your life with a person you barely know. But once you do get to know them…" He blew out a long exhale. "It's something special, Kurt."
Kurt nodded, playing with his fingers idly. He knew he shouldn't be worried. The reason Matching existed in the first place was to create the most fitting parents to raise the future generation, so society could flourish in perfect harmony. They say, with Matching, couples live happier lives together. Love lasts longer when the government finds your other half.
Though, Kurt didn't have to stay in his current state much longer for the monorail was slowing. A clear woman's voice said over the speakers, "Now arriving to Utopia's Capitol Building. Please remain seated until complete stop."
Burt cleared his throat, smoothing down his suit jacket. "Well, here's our stop."
Kurt's eyes widened, and he snapped his head at the window. Outside, against the purple and blue structures, was the yellow-lit Capitol Building, its dome standing out uniquely against rectangular architectures nearby. Even from a distance, Kurt could see other eighteen year old's like him, dressed formally and walking in with their parents.
He gulped, suddenly feeling more likely to faint than puke. The monorail finally came to a halt at the station, and passengers were beginning to stand.
Except for Kurt, who couldn't tear his eyes away from the window, coming to the simple fact of, My soulmate is right over there.
He had never seen such a magnificent place.
The Banquet Hall inside the Capitol Building was so large and spacious. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling and velvety red carpet stretched across the floor. Tables upon tables lined the hall, with pristine white tablecloths and intricate flower and pearl centerpieces.
Little cards written with their names told them where to sit, and Kurt luckily sat at a middle table, across from his school friend Mercedes Jones.
Mercedes lived in Second District, though children from all Districts learn at the same establishment. She shared Kurt's admiration for fashion, and was the only person he dared share any of his future Match fantasizes to. Tonight, her smile was wide and bright, and her dress a deep violet, hugging her curves in all the right ways. Her dark hair was curled, spilling onto her shoulders.
After saying hello to her mother and father, Kurt whispered to her across the table, "You look like a princess."
She giggled, winking at him. "And you a handsome prince."
He knew she was savoring this one-time occasion of dressing up. Formal attire such as colorful gowns or sharp tuxedos wasn't a necessity to their everyday lives, they shouldn't have to be worried with it. However, since the Matching Ceremony was such an important event, the government allowed this rule to slide for one night.
Waiters in cream-colored suit jackets and pressed black slacks came out one by one, carrying silver trays of food to each guest. Each attendee was given food to accommodate their personal health, as to make sure they were in the ideal condition.
Kurt didn't mind, he ate through his steak and mashed potatoes contently. But when he glanced up, he caught his friend's brief look of disappointment when she was given salad yet again.
A sudden idea told him to offer her some of his food, but that was quickly pushed down with common sense. Officers were all around the hall, stationed with their pure white uniforms and guns. Not to mention the cameras and motion sensors. He'd be asking for a death wish.
When dinner was finished and the tables were cleared, a tap from a microphone could be heard from the stage, and a voice spoke through the speakers, "Attention...attention children and parents."
Everyone turned in their chairs to get a better look, and Kurt recognized the man right away. Mr. Figgins, a short man with a receding hairline and mostly monotonous voice, served as spokesperson for the Mayor. He was the one to talk at conferences and events. It was no surprise he stood at the Banquet Hall's stage now.
"Congratulations, young citizens of Utopia," he said, gazing back and forth across the crowd before back at his hologram cue card. "For being the product of a perfect society. Tonight, you will meet your soon-to-be spouse, and continue this tradition."
Mr. Figgins then began reciting the long lasting history of how their society was formed and why Matching was the ideal system, but Kurt knew all this already. To sum it up, society beforehand was chaotic and cluttered. Too many people were free to make the wrong choice, which eventually ended in self-destruction.
In their ashes, a new and better government rose, and they created Utopia. There, they monitored their citizens, making sure they were the happiest and healthiest and most fulfilling to their society. They chose where you lived, where you worked, and who you married.
Utopia was divided into four sections: the Capitol, where the government was located and a majority of work was. Then, right outside of the Capitol was First District, where Kurt lived. Split into five neighborhoods, they were considered the 'high class citizens,' with large fancy homes and clean yards.
Right outside First District was Second District. Not much of a drastic change, although there were more neighborhoods and smaller houses. Most children were friends with others from those two districts, and it wasn't uncommon to ask official permission to visit. A majority of Utopia's citizens lived in Second District.
Then, across miles of farmland and factories, was Third District. Kurt's only seen pictures, but he could guess what it must be like to live there. Shoddy houses, gritty yards, and limited transportation. Either you were unluckily born in Third District, or you must have done something truly despicable.
Once finished, Mr. Figgins waited for the polite applause to die down before clearing his throat and swiping his hologram cue card. "Now...when I call your name I invite you to stand, then when I call your Match's name they will stand as well. That way, we can pair you up, and you two can start your lives by enjoying dessert together." The crowd chuckled, and Mr. Figgins smiled a little (even though his cue card probably told him to).
He cleared his throat, and the room went silent. "Rachel Berry."
Kurt recognized the name. He didn't know if he considered the short brunette girl-who tonight wore a coral pink dress and looked rather nervous with being the first one called-a friend or a respected acquaintance. He admired her work ethic, which will certainly land her a highly valued job.
"Your Match is…" Mr. Figgins paused, perhaps for anticipation, before, "Finn Hudson."
The guests applauded as a taller boy-significantly taller than Rachel-stood from the far left table, his smile flustered and goofy. Rachel blushed intensely at her Match, but couldn't take her eyes off of him.
A few anxieties from before calmed down. Alright, so maybe love at first sight isn't a myth…
As the two were gathered by Officers and sat together, Mr. Figgins read the next name. Gradually, people from his own table left their parents to sit with their Match, dwindling their numbers one by one. Kurt became fidgety. He played with his cufflinks or checked his tie, his nerves charging adrenaline.
For the Matching process, one needed to fill out a survey. This asked questions such as what your interests were, what activities you enjoyed, what your biggest pet peeve was, and who you'd rather marry: a boy or a girl. Kurt instantly chose 'boy,' for he knew he wanted a husband since he was small. But all the boys at the ceremony were being Matched off, and Kurt couldn't dare look over the remaining.
Don't worry, your soulmate is still in this room…
"Mercedes Jones," read Mr. Figgins next.
Mercedes stood, putting on a winning smile. Her mother and father held each other's hand, holding their breath to hear the next name. Kurt let himself forget his ridiculous unease and smiled up at her, having her catch his eye and giggle.
"Your Match is Samuel Evans."
The boy was right at the table next to theirs, and bumped his chair as he tried to stand up hastily. He looked rather opposite of Mercedes in appearance: blond hair and pale skin, tall and muscular. Although, he had the widest smile when he met her eyes, like she was the sun itself.
But now, Kurt was alone with his father, waiting on the edge of his seat for his name to be called. Less and less people were single, more and more were sitting next to their Matches. Kurt gulped, folding and unfolding his hands. The wait was agonizing.
His father turned away from Mr. Figgins, smiling at Kurt reassuringly. "Hey, calm down. They save the best for last, right?"
Kurt let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and nodded, smiling back.
"And finally," Mr. Figgins said, appearing a bit bored with reading so many names. "Noah Puckerman."
Kurt perked up, whipping his head at the last boy to stand. Like Mr. Figgins, he looked bored out of his mind. Tan, with a square jaw and mohawk-styled hair, the buttons of his tux jacket undone. Kurt exhaled, figuring he could live with that, it's not like this Noah was terrible looking…
"Your Match is," Mr. Figgins sighed, pausing this time to gather energy to read the name rather than dramatic effect. Kurt gripped the side of his chair, preparing himself to stand, for his name to finally, finally be read.
"Quinn Fabray."
Kurt felt his mouth drop, but otherwise he remained frozen.
A pretty blonde girl rose from her chair, looking rather pleased with her Match. Mr. Figgins congratulated everyone on their Matches, and hoped they enjoyed this rare dessert provided by the government themselves. Waiters began coming out with silver trays again, this time carrying pieces of chocolate cake with whipped cream on top.
Kurt couldn't move.
His father, however, did, and his face was wrinkled in confusion. "Why on earth-?" he began, twisting around to see Mr. Figgins walk off the stage, and then turned the other way to try and find an Officer or someone with an explanation.
Meanwhile, Kurt felt sick. His stomach wanted to discard of all the food he ate that evening while his eyes wanted to burst into a waterfall. His heart pounded too fast against his ribcage, and his mouth felt too dry.
There was a mistake, there had to be a mistake-
"Ah, Kurt Hummel," said a voice behind him, and Kurt somehow remembered how to move to face her.
She was thin, with dirty blonde hair tucked up in a bun while her jacket and pencil skirt were the same white as the Officer's uniforms. She smiled at him, sympathetically, and said, "You and your father need to come with me."
They were taken to a room right next to the Banquet Hall. A small, sterile-smelling office, with grey-blue walls and a stainless steel rectangular table in the center. Kurt and his dad both took a seat at it, while the woman walked at the head of the table, folding her hands in front of her.
"Now, I know you might be confused." She smiled that same sympathetic smile again. "I am Isabelle Wright. I am the head of the Matching Department."
"Are you going to explain why my son didn't get a Match tonight?" Burt asked rather sharply. Kurt stared at his dad, appalled. He too was lost on this whole situation, but to snap at such an official person…
Isabelle, however, held up a palm calmly. "No worries. Kurt Hummel does have a Match."
Instantly, the weight eating at Kurt's chest vanished. He relaxed his shoulders, feeling relieved for the first time all day.
"However," Isabelle continued, her smile gone to a frown. "There is an issue we needed to discuss in private."
Kurt tensed again, and he glanced at his father, who had his arms crossed and his jaw stiff. He knew how much this ceremony meant to Kurt, and now with all these complications…
Isabelle brought out a shiny rod-like object from her jacket and flicked on her hologram clipboard. "Kurt Hummel, we found your ideal Match is from Third District."
The news brought less shock to Kurt than he expected. True, if anyone would have told Kurt this information earlier he would have been astonished, for rarely anyone from First and Third District Matched. But, given he was just grateful he still had a Match, this brought minimal surprise.
"Oh. Alright," Kurt said, shrugging a little. "Um, does that mean he'll live in First District with me then? Since you live at the one with the highest District's-"
"Yes, but," Isabelle said, eyeing Kurt then his father, "there is a reason your Match was not allowed on government property."
They both remained silent, holding their breath for her to explain further.
She sighed, swiping her hologram clipboard blank and bringing it up to her chest, folding her arms. "Your Match's family has been known for their criminal records. Such as defying governmental rules, vandalizing government property, and even trying to travel past the borders."
Kurt could only stare, eyes wide and in shock.
"Granted, it wasn't your Match himself breaking these laws," Isabelle went on. "Only his father and older brother, who have been punished fairly for their crimes." She raised her eyebrows a bit. "In the past, eighty-four percent of the time they're Matched within their own District. Fifteen percent of the time they're Matched with someone from Second District, and only one percent have had a Match from First District."
"So…" Kurt said slowly, uncertain what to say from that. The information was more than he ever could imagine. "I'm...not allowed to marry him?"
"Oh, no." Isabelle shook her head. "We are simply giving you the option. Since this boy's family history is tainted in the eyes of our government, we are making sure if one of our most promising citizens would want to be married to that."
His eyes left hers and stared at the table, thinking, breathing. Not being married in this society was almost a bad omen. People say you lived shorter, you're prone to depression, you have less of a purpose…
Still, that criminal record wasn't something Kurt exactly could've prepared for. Yes, he had to remind himself that it wasn't his Match who did the crimes, that his Match was innocent. Meaning he could be good, he could be kind. And why would Utopia Match him with someone who wasn't right for Kurt?
Kurt trusted the society he lived in. He trusted his government knew what was best. His father still looked uncertain, given how much he grinded his jaw, but he waited for Kurt to make the choice.
Finally, Kurt looked up and bravely met Isabelle's eyes, nodding slowly. "Yes. I trust he is still my best Match. I...I would like to still marry him."
A month later called for another trip to the Capitol, this time without a tuxedo.
Still the same nerves, if not more. This time guaranteed Kurt meeting him, and not to mention they would be signing their marriage license.
Kurt scoffed to himself, watching the buildings zoom by outside the monorail window as his father read a hologram newspaper. To think, everyone else his age had been getting to know their Match for a month. Kurt didn't even know what his looked like.
He did have a name, though. Blaine Anderson. Birthday: April 10. District: Third. Parents: Michael and Pamela Anderson. Siblings: Cooper Anderson, Brother.
He may or may not have memorized the information document Isabelle sent him.
Once there, Kurt and his father were escorted to a large office marked the Matching Department. Inside, a long desk held multiple people either talking into their earpiece or tapping away at their hologram computer keyboards.
One woman motioned for Kurt to step aside to her end, where she had out a blank marriage license already on her desk, two pens at the ready. She was petite and red-headed, and Kurt saw by her name plate her name was Emma Pillsbury-Schuester.
"Now," she said in a delicate voice, sitting back down at her chair and smiling up at him. "Your Match is, um." She tapped her keyboard quickly, reading her hologram screen, hesitating. "He has to be personally escorted here, so until he's-"
Suddenly, the door opened harshly into the office, causing everyone to jump and turn to it.
Kurt quit fidgeting nervously with his cardigan's sleeves and craned his head around his father's body, catching sight of two Officers, both holding their large gun in one hand and having the other one on the back of the person in the middle. Who, by Kurt's assumption, seemed rather irritated with the situation.
The person in question made Kurt suck in a breath with the realization on who he was. A bit on the short side but built compact, was a boy with dark hair styled away, his abnormally thick eyebrows furrowed downward. His clothes had seen better days-a worn grey tee and denim jeans almost tight enough to be considered skinny. His hands were placed in front of him, although surprisingly not cuffed.
"Oh! Mr. Anderson!" Emma stood from her chair a bit unsurely, waving him over much like she did to Kurt, as if the guards weren't even there. "We're so glad you could make it."
It didn't seem like Blaine had much choice on the matter, but he lifted his eyes up at her still, showing the slightest hint of a smile before the Officers nudged him forward to walk to the desk.
Kurt noticed he had been staring frozen at Blaine ever since he'd enter, probably looking like a gawking fish. He blinked and composed himself, suddenly not knowing what to do with his hands or where he should look. His father had shuffled to stand behind him, giving them their space. Blaine was escorted right to Kurt's side, and Kurt dared to look up.
Blaine was looking at him, oh boy. But instead of a scowl or disgust shot Kurt's way, Blaine's eyebrows drifted up, and his mouth parted. His eyes-wide orbs of a warm, whiskey-gold color-kept fixated right at Kurt. And Kurt too felt immobile, like suddenly he was put under a spotlight, he couldn't look away either.
That's my husband, he thought.
The Officers stepped back a few inches as well, taking their hands off Blaine and keeping a good grip on their guns. Emma began explaining everything about the license, including the part about their last name.
"You could choose, Anderson or Hummel," she told them both. "Or you could hyphenate, like my husband and I did."
Kurt's heart jumped with the decision, and he had to look at Blaine again. Blaine had been reading the license rather intently, his lips pursed in concentration, but he did lift his head up at Kurt, and said, "I don't mind."
Oh, his voice was lovely too. Kurt swallowed, having to look away or otherwise he'd be a blushing mess. "Um. We could hyphenate. Anderson-Hummel, or something."
Emma smiled and nodded, writing it down.
Then the moment came where they had to sign. Kurt let Blaine go first, for he thought to take this time to try and calm his heartbeat, but soon it was his turn. He miraculously managed to sign his name steadily.
Lastly, Burt signed as a witness, and Emma pressed the stamp of approval at the bottom. "Congratulations, newlyweds!" She beamed at them, clapping a little. "The rings will be delivered to your assigned home in First District tomorrow. In the meantime," she made a thumbs-up, "enjoy your honeymoon!"
Kurt said goodbye to his father at the monorail station, where they hugged while the Officers kept guard on Blaine. Burt patted his back, and Kurt tried not to cry, reminding himself that even though he won't live with his dad, he'll see him again.
"Your things will be there at your house," Burt said, voice tight with emotion when he pulled away, gripping Kurt's shoulder. "You call me when you get your video message system set up, right?"
Kurt nodded, his smile a bit wobbly. "I promise."
"And, uh," Burt glanced over his shoulder, where Blaine shifted awkwardly from foot to foot under the gaze of his guards. Then, he looked back at Kurt, lowering his voice, "You be safe, alright?"
Kurt felt his face go hot. "I-I know."
"And have fun?" Burt lifted a corner of his mouth, shrugging a shoulder. "I mean, he seems like a decent kid. Maybe he'll surprise you."
If the Matching Ceremony had been like everyone else's, Burt wouldn't have needed to say that. If Blaine didn't have such a complicated family record, if he had been at the Banquet, Kurt wouldn't be this wary. Other couples have talked over this last month, met each other's families, learned the basics about their partners. Mercedes always rambled about how funny Sam is. Kurt didn't know a thing about his husband.
But still, he nodded to his dad, waving goodbye as he walked on a different monorail for First District. He sighed when the train zipped away, and turned around to realize the Officers and Blaine had come up to him.
"Blaine Anderson will not be escorted to your new home," said one of the Officers. The thinner one, Kurt guessed it was a woman but a glossy helmet hid their faces. "However, streetlight cameras will show if both of you arrive within ten to twenty minutes. If not, we will have to personally come and inspect ourselves." She turned her head at Blaine, who lowered his gaze.
Kurt opened his mouth, somewhat unsure how to respond to such authority, but did manage to nod.
The two Officers left them for the next monorail, and they boarded together. Blaine took the window seat, leaving Kurt next to the aisle. The sun was setting outside, casting orange across buildings and structures.
Since Blaine wasn't saying anything, Kurt stayed alone with his thoughts and anxieties. Yes, the monorail would take them to their new home together. A house built and furnished for a newlywed couple. All their personal belongings from their previous homes would be there in moving boxes, as Kurt's father promised.
Yet, it wasn't a new environment Kurt worried over. Everyone knew this part of the Matching process-the honeymoon. The part Kurt never really fretted over, for once he saw his true love, all doubts afterwards would vanish, right?
Reality turned out far different than his dreams. Now, Kurt sat with stiff knees and shaking hands, his mouth clamped shut. His heart beat would not shut up in his ears.
How could he consummate their marriage when his husband was a complete stranger?