White boots echoed against white flooring. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Marching synchronized as its noises bounced off tall white walls. The hallway was pristine in its color, bearing no shade in decorations or paint. Even the potted plants lining the walls were perfect white hydrangeas, not a wilted one in sight. Spotless, pure, why even the air itself smelled like it was clogged with disinfectant chemicals. An empty canvas, bearing no flaws whatsoever.
Which was why Kurt felt entirely out of place.
The six Officers who found him at Third District were with him still, caging him three by three on either side of him, hands on their guns. Two Officers in particular kept one of their hands tight on Kurt's arm, leading him along. Kurt, with his dusty clothing and dirt-covered shoes, strikingly colorful compared to everything else surrounding him, kept his chin steady as they walked in the Capitol Building, straight upstairs and heading for the dome, he presumed.
His footsteps didn't match the guards', but he didn't pay much attention. His eyes were elsewhere, studying the architecture and environment. No pictures were shown to them in school of what was inside the Capitol Building. The only other area he's ever been in was the Banquet Hall during his Matching Ceremony, and that was alive with colors of red and gold. This...this was solid. Strict. Elegant walls didn't need golden trim. The reflective floor needed no fancy carpet.
They were heading towards double doors, Kurt saw it at the end of the hall. The thumping of his heart increased in speed, and he faltered for a second. The Mayor's office. The heart of Utopia. No one spoke of it. Again, there were no pictures.
An Officer on his left stepped out of line to take both door handles and twist them down, swinging both wide open, washing Kurt over with a gust of wind. He blinked a few times, throat dry and muscles tense.
In Kurt's entire existence, he had never seen the Mayor. It was never questioned why Utopia's leader never showed their face. It was just common knowledge: trust the Mayor, for the Mayor knew best.
For a moment, he was reminded of that bible passage he read what seemed like eons ago. He had shook his head at how silly civilization was before, putting faith into some being they never saw. Funny, how humanity repeats itself.
The pack of Officers ushered him into the large circular room, and he was simply awestruck. Indeed, they were inside the dome. Again, white walls and white floor, however it was the curve of the ceiling which caught his attention. Wrapped around in a perfect loop, a large screen loomed above him. Numbers and names rolled up and down in columns. Images flashed here and there, overlapping or adding together. Videos of parts of the city were in certain spaces, zooming in on certain people, cutting to another, scanning their face. This screen was packed with information, and constantly filtering through it.
He nearly stumbled on his feet at that moment. The two Officers kept a hold on him, however he did look down at his shoes on instinct. It was then he caught an image on the floor. Engraved into the marble, the only piece of decoration, was the map of Utopia. Kurt's seen it hundreds of times, for it's hung up in every classroom.
Utopia, in a sense, was designed like a target. In the center, of course, was the Capitol. The engraving had a tiny star in the center. On the outer rim marked First District, and little houses were shown on this etching. Next ring was Second District, more houses to show that. Then there was a quite a gap, with little pictures of wheat and factors with swirly smoke. Then, on the outermost ring was Third District, its few symbolized homes scattered here and there. Nothing beyond that.
Kurt did not have time to linger over the map for long, for the Officers ahead of him dispersed and the two holding his arms kept him walking to the center of the room. He was surprised he didn't notice it at first, but in the bullseye of the room was a desk. Richly brown, breaking the norm of the color scheme, and seated behind it was a woman.
She hadn't looked up once since they all entered. Her head was down as she read something on her holographic clipboard. She wore a white suit, much like any high authority figure in the working field, however the scarf around her head was a golden-yellow. Circular glasses sat on her nose.
Without even realizing they had left, an Officer appeared with a chair and set it down in front of the desk, causing echoes to sound off against the huge room. Kurt was shoved forward, and he shot the Officers a glare as he sat down, clearly understanding the message.
The woman still hadn't looked up at him, but the Officers began to leave. Kurt was afraid to glance behind him but he heard the footsteps fade and then the doors snip shut. Not one of them bothered for guard duty?
Kurt inhaled through his nose and stared at the woman. There was a holographic computer screen between them, like a smaller copy of half of the large screen overhead. He looked at her through it, waiting. Even though he desperately wanted to speak first, start demanding why, instinct kept him back.
Because there was no doubt Kurt was one of the few citizens of Utopia to ever be in the presence of their Mayor.
The woman eventually sighed, clicking her tongue before breaking the silence. "Kurt Hummel," she said, eyes still on her clipboard. "I've heard so much about-"
"Anderson-Hummel."
The woman snapped her eyes up. "I beg your pardon?"
He shifted slightly in his chair but did not break eye contact with her. Great job, me. First thing you do is interrupt the most powerful person in the city. "Anderson-Hummel," he repeated. "That's my name. Kurt Anderson-Hummel."
She stared at him for a moment before smiling, close-mouthed, and proceeded to click off the clipboard and then the screen for her computer, leaving no barriers or distractions between them. "Ah, yes. Kurt Anderson-Hummel." She folded her hands on top of her desk, still smiling at him. "Do you know why you're here?"
Kurt hardened his chin, not enjoying being talked to like a child. "Because you're the Mayor."
Her eyes widened at that. "Oh, no, no, no." She shook her head. "My name is Carmen Tibideaux." Leaning back in her chair, she beamed and pointed upwards. "That, my dear, is our Mayor."
For a second, Kurt was puzzled. Then, slowly his features shifted as the realization washed over him, and he tilted his head to watch as names whizzed by, bar graphs fell and rose, and thousands of people were being analyzed closely on camera.
His mouth hung open until he finally managed to ask, "A computer…?"
Carmen folded her hands again. "A supercomputer. It catalogs everything, programmed to make no mistakes whatsoever."
"So what does that make you?" Kurt asked.
"Some call me the...Mayor's Human Representative." Her eyes crinkled, as if amused. "The Mayor states it's healthier for other people to discuss matters with another person rather than machine. I basically pass on information the Mayor has already decided."
Those words did not settle well in Kurt's skin. The Mayor states. God, don't call it that. That...machine had been dictating their lives, not another living thing. The idea made his stomach turn.
"Yes, I was chosen for this position," Carmen went on, leaning back in her chair, reminiscing. "Much like how you were chosen for the Archives Department. Instead of getting Matched the Mayor decided I was best fit to serve as Representative. To carry on the legacy. Before citizens voted for their leader. As if the common people knew who was best fit to lead them. Thankfully, we live in a time where numbers and facts tell us the truth."
Kurt's hands tightened to fists. His throat burned and he wasn't sure why. "So why Match me with Blaine, when our parents were teaming up against you?"
Carmen raised her eyebrows. Oh, the part she had been waiting for. "Your mother and Blaine's father were superb civilians, but alas their ideals did not vanish over time. They became a threat to the wellbeing of Utopia so they had to be eliminated." She pointed her finger at him. "Your Match with Blaine Anderson was no mistake. Everything sought for in a couple came to a near perfect sum. Your parentage had nothing to do with it, though it was a concern. The Mayor figured with your exemplary record you could...heal whatever damage Michael Anderson inflicted upon his son."
Kurt blinked at her. "Damage...Blaine was not damaged."
"Michael poisoned his brain, it was very obvious. Just like his father he did not let go of his fantasies."
"Fan-they were not fantasies, they were the truth!"
Carmen sighed, adjusting her glasses before, "Kurt, let me tell you something. The sole reason Utopia is led by a supercomputer is thanks to our founders. Did you think those who survived the United States' downfall were idiots? No, they were geniuses. They came together to create the perfect leader, one who was not biased on appearance or race or gender, but one who lived by the rule of numbers and statistics, things that only told the truth and not opinions. Our ancestors were ruled by humans, just as stupid as them, and look where that let them."
"So you arrest everyone who doesn't share the belief that our government is without flaw?" Kurt demanded.
Carmen clicked her tongue, shaking her head. "No, no, of course not. Can you imagine how clogged our prison cells would be?" She laughed, and Kurt continued staring. "Everyone doubts their authority now and then. Teenagers go through a 'rebellion stage' where they think their parents don't know best. Citizens are just the same. People can doubt, it's natural." Shrugging, she nodded once at him. "Why, you and Mercedes Evans doubted the rule to immediately consummate your marriages, but are any of you two behind bars?"
Clenching his jaw and trying not to dwell on the fact they heard that conversation. We were right to always fear them listening because it's true. Which was why they cut that video call with Mercedes, of course. His eyes caught the attention of the screen behind Carmen's head. Thousands of rectangle videos popped up here and there. He saw people in their homes, sitting on their couch or cleaning their kitchen. Talking to their children, arguing with their spouse. They could always see everything. Every private moment wasn't actually private at all.
Flush rose to Kurt's cheeks, but he did control himself enough to ask, "Blaine has doubted plenty of times. Why arrest him now?"
Sighing again, Carmen slid her glasses off her nose and folded them in. "The Mayor considered it. However, to gather more data about human nature we decided we should see." She lowered her chin and kept her eyes on him. "See how loyal Blaine was still to his father versus how loyal he became to you."
Despite his unwavering stance before, Kurt fidgeted under her gaze, because apparently that answer was clear to her, or this conversation wouldn't be happening in the first place. "What, so you let him steal that artifact? All for the purpose of gathering data? What else did you let us do?" His expression dropped. "Did...you know about what I found in the Archives basement?"
"Of course we do, Kurt. We know everything. Yet it was still the Mayor's decision whether you'd receive punishment, and the order was not given."
Kurt gulped a hard lump in his throat. "So...was it the Mayor's order to also kill my father?"
The fight with Blaine flashed in his mind. How his husband was convinced the government was responsible for Burt's death, and Kurt refused to believe him. That was the last time he saw Blaine, to think how much has changed since…
After a few moments of silence, Carmen answered, "Yes. I'm sure you remember in the tapes how your mother left notes for your father about their 'big plans.' Well, he found them and was beginning to believe her. Since he lived alone and had no one to stop him, the percentage was too high that he would continue her rebellion. So, the order was given." She watched him as he processed this. "Do not worry, it was a painless death-"
"The death penalty is banned," Kurt said flatly.
"Kurt, dear, at this point can we agree that most lies were said to protect Utopia?"
"Protect? From what? Those...Outsiders my mother mentioned? Opinionated citizens? From how evil this system really is?"
Carmen frowned and her brown eyes hardened. "You too are a superb citizen, Kurt. Like Elizabeth was." She reclined in her chair. "You showed no signs of doubt or defiance until your husband showed up. Which is why you were called here."
Confused, he was ready to ask but then the double doors behind him opened, and he turned to see another woman, skinnier and taller, but also wearing a white suit, enter. She did not look at Kurt as she strode up to the desk.
Kurt gaped at her until rage settled deep within his chest.
"Isabelle Wright," Carmen said, beaming and gesturing out towards her, "is the Head of the Matching Department. You know her, I presume."
"We've met," Kurt stated. This woman knew his mother, this woman helped his mother and the government knew it from those tapes so why was she standing here while Elizabeth was executed-?!
"The Mayor is gracious enough to give you a second chance," Carmen told him, still smiling broadly, like this was the best news she brought all day. "Isabelle, go on."
"Yes." Isabelle took out her holographic clipboard, flicking it on and scrolling through her documents. Kurt's glare didn't fall. "Kurt, it is evident through examination that Blaine Anderson was not best fit for your Match."
"What?!" Kurt whipped his head at Carmen then back at Isabelle. "You can't say that. Of course he was-"
"It happens, Kurt," Carmen explained. "Sadly, the Mayor cannot guarantee love through Matching. Domestic violence still occurs, for example, even with-"
"Blaine does love me! And I love him!"
Carmen raised a palm as if to tell him to calm down while Isabelle continued, "With the Mayor's kindness, we are allowed to give you a chance at starting over."
"What are you talking about?"
Carmen nodded happily. "Your statistics show you'd increase Utopia's well-being greatly. So, instead of throwing you behind bars like your husband you are now granted an opportunity to forget him. To be paired with a new Match, be given a new house, perhaps even a new job at textiles with your friend Mercedes." When she smiled, there was a glint in her eye. "All with the addition of a memory wipe."
"But it wouldn't erase everything," Isabelle clarified. "Just everything beyond your Matching Ceremony."
With all this information, one sentence stood loudly for Kurt. Blaine was alive. He was in prison and there was still a chance to see him-
He blinked, adding everything else up. "A new Match?"
Isabelle nodded, scrolling through her clipboard again. "Neither of them as perfect percentage-wise as with Mr. Anderson, but we do have plenty of close Matches. Like Chandler Kiehl, for example. You had a sixty-three percent success with him."
Kurt's mouth didn't feel right. His heart thumped oddly. "But…" he said slowly, "I don't want a new Match."
Carmen gave him a look. "Dear, it's either this or imprisonment. I'm sorry, but we have no choice. You know too much to be left alone in this city." She held open her palms, "We are offering you a chance at a perfect life. Is that not something you've always wanted?"
A perfect life. Kurt had to take a moment to remember. Before Blaine, before he was near old enough to be of Matching age he had dreamed of his future. He and Mercedes would talk about it endlessly. How could they not? Kurt would daydream for hours on his future husband. He pictured them living happily in First District, with a picket fence and green yard, a beautiful house and a fluffy cat. He dreamed about raising children and singing them lullabies like his mother had. He imagined his husband being tall and handsome, perfectly perfect in every way.
Carmen and Isabelle were waiting for an answer.
All of those dreams may have vanished when he married Blaine, but that didn't mean more hadn't arrived. True, Blaine was not tall. He became awkward at the topic of children. His distrust of the government tore a seam within their marriage, but it's not like Kurt's entirely of fault either.
A perfect life.
Textiles. He loved fashion. He'd wanted to work there with Mercedes almost desperately.
A new home. One in First District, no less, but with no memories of Blaine whatsoever.
A new spouse. One that would most likely love him and raise a family without hesitation, being perfectly contempt with living happily ever after. And Kurt would know nothing else.
To think he always feared of making the wrong choice, it all came down to this one. Live a new life without Blaine or endure the same fate he had.
Little mindless chess pieces.
The large screen continued its work, rapidly filing through equations which calculated people's predicted behavior and scanning blood samples for health concerns. That computer, who did not have a heart or soul, was telling Kurt that while he did have a choice, there really wasn't one at all.
"So, Kurt Hummel," Carmen said, "what will it be?"
Kurt squared his jaw, raising his head to meet Carmen's eyes directly. "My name is Kurt Anderson-Hummel. That is not changing anytime soon."
Carmen sighed, as if disappointed, and lifted her glasses to slide them back on, and then nod at Isabelle. The other woman clicked off her clipboard and said not a word. Though Carmen, with her smile and slim hint of warmth completely gone, looked at Kurt with a hard expression. "Very well." She tapped a button on her keyboard, saying louder, "Officers, take him away."
Down, down, down descended the elevator, zipping for minutes on end. Fluorescent lights shines above their heads. White uniformed Officers held tightly to his arms yet again, though Kurt could see no point. His hands were cuffed in front of him, anyway.
He was forced to wear different clothes before his trip to the prison, which apparently was underground. His sweater and jeans were traded for drab prison clothing-if Kurt was in any other situation, he would have judged this outfit to the day's end. Chalky grey, really? The boxy shoulder sleeves were too wide and his trousers too baggy. It was horrendous if anything.
Isabelle joined him on the journey. She stood next to him in the cramped elevator, starting ahead and keeping silent. Kurt mirrored her in stance but made it very clear that he knew, and he knew that she knew, and he was furious.
If the guards weren't there with hands next to their triggers, he would surely scream how unfair it is that Elizabeth is dead and you, Isabelle, are not.
How far down were they? Certainly farther than the Archives basement. The air became cooler, almost thinner. When the elevator finally started slowing down, Kurt's heart beat anxiously behind his ribs, forgetting his hatred at Carmen and the Mayor, forgetting his anger at Isabelle. Instead, he remembered, I am going to jail. This is the last place you want to be in Utopia.
He had no idea what to expect, for he never really questioned the concept of this infamous prison in the first place. Well, of course you didn't, you were never supposed to question anything. Huh, ignorance really is bliss.
The elevator finally stopped, and the doors slid open. While Isabelle gracefully took a step out Kurt was practically shoved forward by the two Officers. He shot them a quick glower before realizing where he was, and when he looked around his breath caught in his throat.
The prison was shaped like a gigantic hollow cylinder. Completely circular, the ceiling stopping for air vents and the rest going down, down. More fluorescent lights lit the area, though not illuminating it completely. It felt grey-ish, menacing. Rooms lined each floor, each with a glass wall to see everything inside from the outside. In the center was a tall cement tower, it seemed, also cylinder and having tinted windows wrapped around to watch every floor at every angle.
"Our prison is based on the Panopticon design," Isabelle was saying as they walked forward on the first floor, curving around to head towards a flight of stairs. "It is said to be the most ideal design, for every inmate is watched by every inmate, and the Officers in the tower have full surveillance as well. Even though it's impossible for the guards to watch everyone at once, the inmates are unaware when they are being watched, so their behavior is self-controlled constantly."
Kurt kept silent as his eyes wandered to the cells. People, men and women alike, occupied more than he anticipated. All wore the same grey prison outfit. Some looked up when he walked by, and when they did there was nothing but hatred on their faces.
As they reached the stairs, Isabelle stopped and sighed, turning to the Officers. "Well, I'll take it from here, boys."
Confused, the Officers glanced at each other before one said, "We were given orders to escort Mr. Hummel all the way to…"
"You don't think I know my way around down here? The Matching Department is in charge of handling all marriage concerns involving the inmates."
"But, Ms. Wright-"
As if frustrated, she whipped out a key card, holding it up to them. "I can handle this. Now if you'll please uncuff Mr. Hummel, we'll be on our way and you can go back to your other duties."
"But-"
"That's an order, gentlemen."
Uncomfortable but certainly not opposed, the Officers hastily undid the cuffs around Kurt's wrists, allowing Isabelle to grip his arm now. "If he shows any sign of resistance-"
"I know, I know." She waved them off. "Thank you, Officers."
Equally confused as his guards, Kurt watched them walk the direction they came as Isabelle lead him away, down the flight of metal stairs to the next floor. But now he and Isabelle were alone, so he finally could say, "I think it's funny how-"
"Hush," she hissed, twisting to look over her shoulder before continuing faster.
Kurt scrunched his eyebrows together. "Excuse me-?"
She ignored him, reaching the bottom of the steps and yanking him suddenly to the left, into a small, practically hidden alcove. Kurt stumbled and scanned around like a frantic bird, bewildered out of his mind. What was going on? Wouldn't someone see...?
"Wha-" He struggled against Isabelle's grip. "What is going on-?!"
"Kurt, listen to me," she said quietly, making him face her. "There isn't much time-"
"People-your precious Mayor-they're going to see-"
"You don't think I know every location in Utopia where the cameras don't reach?" she asked. "Where they can't hear us?"
His heart thumped under his rib cage, a thunderous and rapid thumping. He could only stare at her, wide-eyed and heavy breathing. "What do you want?" he demanded.
She swallowed, glancing to the side before loosening her iron hold on him. "I am sorry about your mother. And I know you must be upset-"
"Just upset?!"
"But," Isabelle went on, "she wanted me to lie about my involvement. She wanted me to stay in Utopia, at the Mayor's service, because her last request…" Her voice choked up momentarily. "Before she was taken and killed, Elizabeth asked me to look after you. Keep you safe."
Kurt scoffed. "Like I'm going to believe that."
Again, Isabelle brought out the key card, thrusting it into Kurt's hand. "Here," she said, her fingers overlapping his. "Take it. Keep it hidden. It can unlock every cell door in this facility, inside or out." She made sure his eyes were locked on hers before, "They are planning to execute you two. You and your husband. The serum doesn't get shipped in until Monday, so we have some time."
"Time for what?"
Isabelle paused, probably thinking she heard footsteps, before replying, "Wait twenty-four hours, that's all I ask. Tomorrow, at midnight, use the key card and get yourself out. There will be an Officer waiting at the elevator we used to get down here. Go with him, he'll take you to safety."
"And how do I know I can trust you?" Kurt asked with a scowl.
Isabelle exhaled, looking so tired and worn. The bags under her eyes were clear, the dullness in her irises were evident. "Your mother was one of my closest friends. She was nothing but good, and the Mayor decided that was dangerous. I have hated them for years for what they did to her."
She squeezed his hand with the key card in it, smiling. "So my last request to you is to trust me. Please."
Mind swirling with all this information, Kurt didn't feel hardness in his heart anymore. However, he did blink once, realizing, "They'll...they'll know. About how you helped me, they always know-"
Isabelle only smiled again. "Better to go out with a bang, right?"
No sirens went off when they re-entered the hall. No one batted an eye as Kurt and Isabelle walked forward into the monitored scene. She held him by his arm again, and he had his hands in front of him. The key card was stashed away under his ugly clothes.
"Here we are," Isabelle said, stopping at a cell and fishing out another identical key card. Kurt craned his head around, trying to peer in through the cell's glass wall, but she had unlocked the door, catching his attention by saying, "This is your new living space. I hope it accommodates well."
Even after he stepped inside, he watched her shut the door, hearing a slight beep to indicate it was securely locked. Eventually, he did turn to face the interior of his new home. However, before that, with eyes at the glass wall allowing all of prison to watch him and him them, he heard a heartbreakingly familiar voice say, "Kurt?"
Hours and days of unfixable aching and drowning in sorrow was suddenly healed. All it took was a strong K and how the voice rose once it ended on the t. His poor, beaten heart, mended and swelling to the size of the sun.
Kurt snapped his head around, seeing almost in slow-motion his beautiful Blaine stand and stride to him, reaching out to him, and then hands were framing his face and those glittering hazel eyes were there and Kurt wasn't dreaming-
Blaine was right in front of him and alright.
"Why are you here?" Blaine asked, sounding breathless and confused, eyes studying Kurt's face. "What happened? Are you okay-?"
Surely, he had a million and one things to tell Blaine considering the events of these past two days. But his plans shut down briefly, for all Kurt needed to do was grab the front of Blaine's hideous grey shirt and yank him in for a kiss.
A long-awaited kiss, one in which stitched together all the falling, torn seams in Kurt and made him complete so strongly and fast he could burst into tears. His husband's warm lips pressed to his again. His husband's strong hands remembering where they were and gripping to bring him closer. This wasn't a dream. God, Kurt thought he'd lost this forever.
He had to break it so he could open his eyes, see Blaine's face again, keep witnessing this reality. Blaine had no serious marks or injuries, though Kurt did spot a fading purple bruise near his hairline, and another under the hinge of his jaw. No gel in jail meant his hair was an unkempt mess of curls, corkscrewing over his forehead and around his ears. No razors either, for stubble grew across his chin and jawline. He wore the same atrocious prison clothes as him, which Kurt had to smile at. If at any other time he and Blaine wore identical outfits, he would be having a meltdown.
"Kurt," Blaine said again, softer this time. "Why are you here?"
The cell was small now that Kurt got a good look at it. Blank cement floor and three concrete walls. A cot was pushed off to the left wall, covered with a scratchy-looking yellow blanket and flat pillow. There was a sink and toilet jutting out of the right wall (Kurt decided not to fathom over the fact that not even their bathroom business was private here). Nearer to where they stood a stack of paperback books were piled up, with faded covers not even Kurt recognized.
Exhaling for the first time in what seemed to be forever, Kurt found one of Blaine's hands and squeezed it tight. "It's kind of a long story…"
He led Blaine to the cot, to the spot he was when Kurt first entered the cell. Blaine didn't take his eyes off him, nor did he loosen his hold on Kurt's hand. He was waiting for Kurt to speak, and after inhaling deeply, Kurt lifted his eyes up to his, and told him everything.
Starting at the beginning, to when the Officers showed up after Blaine was arrested. Then to when the Mayor cut his call with Mercedes, most likely because he had mentioned Blaine. Then to when Kurt had to go to the basement at work, and how he found his mother's video devices. Blaine's eyebrows lifted at this part, equally surprised to hear his father's and Elizabeth's plan and ultimate murder. Next came Kurt's decision to go to Third District, and Kurt interrupted Blaine just as he opened his mouth, "Hey, you would've been proud of me. I didn't even send in my vital signs."
Kurt briefly talked about his meeting with Pam, for he saw Blaine's stance tense. He came to the part about the Officers finding him and taking him to the Mayor, and that's when Blaine's eyes bugged.
"The Mayor?" he asked.
However, his shock transformed to bewilderment when Kurt told him the truth about their leader. He explained how Blaine was right, how it was the government's doing that Burt passed away. When he came upon the part of Isabelle entering and Kurt being granted an entire new life with a new Match, Blaine's mouth pinched tightly and he looked almost scared for Kurt to finish the story.
"But I refused," Kurt concluded with a sigh, "and that's why I'm here."
Blaine absorbed this for a moment, Kurt saw his shoulders relax. Their hands had remained linked, and Kurt took this moment to flex his fingers, twining them in between Blaine's. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry that we fought before. I'm sorry I…kept that about your fath-"
"No, no-" Blaine scooted closer to him, squeezing Kurt's hand. "No, Kurt. Don't apologize. We both messed up and now…" He shrugged, glancing away. "You didn't have to agree to continue being my Match. I would rather have you safe up there than down here."
Oh, Blaine. We both know no one's safe in either place.
But instead, Kurt told him, "I chose you because I love you. And-screw the system! I know you are my perfect match."
A corner of Blaine's mouth curled up. "'Screw' huh? Kurt Anderson-Hummel, I do believe we are one step closer to having you curse."
"What can I say?" He smirked. "You've been a bad influence on me."
For two days Blaine had time to adapt to the prison. It wasn't hard for him, for he spent eighteen years of his life in Third District. Well, this was slightly better-clean water came from the sink and there was a stable roof over his head.
On the other hand, it was agonizingly horrid. Blaine knew he was always being watched, not only by cameras no doubt but by Officers and other prisoners. No matter what he did, he could feel eyes on him. At least with cameras he didn't have to see the eyes on the other side. This was much worse.
To think, the only thing that could keep him grounded and not curled up in a ball was imagining his husband. Whether it be just memories of him smiling or laughing or kissing him sweetly or reconstructing their last conversation. Like if Blaine could go back in time, what would he fix? Should he have not started any fires in the first place? Turn his back on the Archives and go home to hold Kurt close and apologize over and over I'm sorry I'm so stupid and reckless.
Still, the last thing he wanted was Kurt here, in this twisted sort of hell. Kurt, who never had to face violent people or those so demented all they wanted to do was inflict pain. Watching through the glass wall Blaine saw what these living conditions did to some inmates. A man across from them had started pounding fists against his walls until he fell unconscious. A woman started screaming from the floor above and pulling at her hair.
But that night, they shared the cot, and Blaine let himself be happy that Kurt was in his arms again. It may be selfish of him, but to feel the familiar body clinging close to him and hear his soft, steady breaths was heavenly. Under the yellow blanket unable to cover them both completely and sharing the thinnest pillow in existence they slept together, and Blaine for once wasn't completely scared down here.
In the morning, Kurt began to discover the faults in their new living space. He became uncomfortable when he had to use the toilet, always glancing over his shoulder even though Blaine had turned away. Later, he crossed his arms and sat on the cot for a bit, unable to be peaceful as he constantly looked over at the glass wall. It was hard to find ease here.
"What are these for?" Kurt asked, kneeling over the pile of books. He picked up the one at the top of the pile, reading the back cover.
"They provided them for, uh, entertainment I think?" Blaine replied from his spot on the cot. "They're novels from the old world which survived to this one. One Officer explained that, like, they used to provide them to the public to enrich our culture, but the Mayor thought having any ideas engraved in us from the past would slow our evolution, or something."
Kurt made a "hmm" sound, flipping it back to the front. "Pride and Prejudice."
"Yep. I finished that one yesterday morning. It's good."
Opening to the first page, Kurt read aloud, "'It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.'" He looked up at Blaine, smirking. "Wow."
"Hey, c'mon! It's about, you know, social expectations back then and...judging people by their class, and," Blaine quirked a smile at him, "how love always wins."
"I can see why Utopia banned it," Kurt remarked, continuing to read the rest as he walked over to the cot. He didn't take his eyes off it as he settled down, knees drawn up and his back reclined against the wall.
Food was delivered to their cell via Officers ready with their guns, sliding the containers through the small slot at the bottom of the door. After two days here, Blaine knew what to expect, but when Kurt opened his container his mouth formed into a frown and his nose wrinkled in disgust.
Mushy green peas and a slab of partially-cooked chicken as well as a slice of stale bread. Kurt looked up at Blaine, utterly confused, "So...our diet isn't tracked down here?"
Blaine shrugged, taking his identical meal to the cot.
They actually talked then, about Blaine's time down here. Kurt brought it up as it picked apart his bread, hesitating at first. But Blaine didn't mind.
"Well, they caught me trying to get into the Archives. I dunno, I thought if I found what you found I could show everyone and...finally get people to see." Stupid. Reckless. "The Officers weren't exactly friendly. They said, after they got a hold of me, that they had direct orders from the Mayor for my punishment. So, I was brought down here, got new clothes, and wasn't told anything else."
Blaine's anger that night quickly was replaced with fear. There were stories of Utopia's prison. Hell, he had thought for years his father had suffered down here. He remembered the ride down that elevator, shivering and small, quietly asking the Officer painfully clutching his arm what was going to happen to his husband now.
Needless to say, he didn't get an answer.
"I, uh, met some of the inmates," Blaine told him after swallowing a bite of chicken. Kurt looked up at him, eyebrows nipping together. "It was before you came, apparently it was our floor's turn to shower. I was, um, fresh meat so the other men started talking to me, asking how I got here. I learned about them too." He shrugged again, staring at his food. "You wouldn't believe some of the crimes. Some are in for stealing, others for refusing to go to work multiple days in a row. One purposely didn't send in his vital signs, you'd like him. A few for committing adultery and this one guy for attacking an Officer in public." He stopped, frowning. "Weird, how we never hear about these things."
Kurt lifted his shoulders. "Why bring up flaws in the 'perfect' society?"
Blaine nodded in agreement, playing with his food before, "They aren't all monsters, though. A majority are here for the same reason as me." When silence settled between them, he tried to lighten the mood with, "I know you're going to hate waiting a week to shower but trust me, you're going to despise the environment when we actually do."
It was meant to be a playful joke, but Kurt looked awkward, pursing his mouth and not meeting Blaine's eye.
His husband began to get antsy as the day turned into evening. He would pace back and forth along the glass wall, craning his head up at the center tower or watching Officers walk by on patrol. He would worry his bottom lip between his teeth and drum his fingers on his arm, like he was anxiously waiting for something. What, Kurt? No one's coming for him.
Their lights in the cell dimmed meaning it was 'curfew'. Blaine grabbed the pathetic excuse for the pillow and blanket, arranging them on the cot. He looked over at Kurt, who was still staring out the glass wall, and said, "Kurt, please come to bed."
Again, a pathetic excuse for a 'bed'. They're actual bed in First District was like heaven compared to this tiny thing. Large and soft, caressing their bodies like a cloud with its countless fluffy pillows and warm duvet. This cot's mattress was barely an inch think and had stains Blaine didn't even want to think about.
They barely managed to fit on it, the two of them. Blaine lied on his back as Kurt tucked into his side, partially laying on top of him, his cheek pressed to his chest. Blaine's arm wrapped around him, thumb rubbing at his shoulder and wishing Kurt wasn't so tense.
Night two for them together. Staring at the ceiling, Blaine's eyelids drifted shut, and he let his mind wander on that luxurious bed back at home, even though it can't be called home anymore…
Less than a minute later, a hand slid up his chest and came to rest beside his neck, gently cupping it, then Kurt's body shifted and the blanket moved. Blaine almost opened his eyes, but a cool pair of lips pressed to his neck.
His chest momentarily stopped rising. He tightened his hold at Kurt's shoulder, opening his mouth to say something but forgot how to as his husband kept kissing at his neck, gently, just a scattering of small pecks. When he reached the stubble Kurt opened his mouth a bit, kissing harder, sucking at the skin.
That's when Blaine opened his eyes, noticing his breathing quickening. They were still in the cell, in the uncomfortable cot. The glass wall was still there, and even though most prisoners were asleep, Officers still watched from the tinted tower windows.
"Kurt-" Blaine whispered, but his husband was moving to bring a leg around Blaine's waist, shuffling so he could straddle him, though not taking his lips away from their mission. He trailed open-mouthed kissed along his jaw, the noises growing louder in their cell.
"Kurt," Blaine tried again, evening his voice, hands settling on Kurt's hips. The baggy prison pants couldn't hide much, he could see Kurt's want for this. Heat squirmed in his gut. However, he did contain himself, saying, "What are you doing?"
Kurt stopped, lifting his head up with a face Blaine didn't expect-glassy eyes, wide and almost desperate, a pinkened mouth, pursed again. Hands around Blaine's neck, the thumbs soothed the skin, quicker than normal.
"Can…we?" Kurt asked, voice quiet, sort of shaky. "Please? It's-been so long, and..."
Jesus, how long have they been without intimacy? Blaine tried to remember, it was before Burt's death for sure. But through everything that had happened between then and now it's a miracle they're both alive and here together and, be honest Blaine, they only way to cope during the first night here was imagining taking Kurt in his arms again…
He sighed, hands firm on Kurt's waist as he shook his head. "Darling, we can't."
Funny, he feels like Kurt all those times before. They're watching us, don't you remember?
Kurt chewed his lip, appearing as if he was going to say something else, perhaps counter Blaine's argument, but in the end he lifted himself off, settling down again, and not saying anything else.
Now Blaine was the one with unease, but he did manage to close his eyes, trying to find sleep again. What he wouldn't give just to make love with Kurt one more time. What he wouldn't do to make him happy for one more day, just before that was all taken away from them. The fact was hard to swallow, that this was their home now and prison was a life sentence, just ask any of the inmates. They could never leave.
Time passed differently down here, but Blaine did wake some time later. Confused, at first, because the cell was still dark. Then puzzled, because Kurt's body was not lying beside him anymore.
He sat up, hurriedly looking around the small room. His eyes adjusted, and he found his husband was still here, and his arrival was not some dream. Yet, Kurt was at the cell door, messing around with something.
There was a beep, and suddenly their door was open.
