To everyone else though, he was just Burt. Kurt was the only person alive that could reveal last name heritage, but he too, had adopted an alias "Kal" and a lot of the time, he forgot his name was Kurt.

The cause began in Kurt's youth, and once he became a man at age 18, it had blossomed into over hundreds of thousands of followers and advocates, possibly millions.
As figurehead of the revolution, Kurt's father received a lot of flack. He appeared constantly on television specials and was stopped on the street. People accused him that the only reason he was doing all this was because he probably lost his one true soulmate long ago, and had nothing else better to do. Kurt also had to privately admit that he too, wondered these things about his father.

But Kurt knew better to know that his father was a stubborn, resilient man. Kurt was too.

Burt taught his son that people become too absorbed, no consumed with that little name etched on their wrists. They let it completely take over their lives, never really allowing themselves to live.

"Commoners" they were called, the lay people, they'd move to certain places they wouldn't imagine in their desperation. They would quit jobs that secure their lives just for hunches. They would turn down other people and would-be opportunities just because they don't have the right name.

They are so obsessed with "the one" that they throw everything else that matters away.

Kurt looked down on these people. Pitied them, really. He wanted to help them be free of these shallow existences. Sure, there have been legends and lore of the other-wordly greatness that is to meet and be with one's true soulmate, but why sit around and wait when there is so much more life to live?

Even before the "Burt Movement" people sometimes never even met their soulmate. Sometimes no name ever appeared on other's wrists. These people either were ostracized or died of broken hearts.

Kurt never wanted to be like that.

Even just as a young man he's had fantastic love affairs with many gorgeous men whenever he could spare the time. But his true love and dedication was to the cause. Fundraising, recruitment, advertisements, help centers.. if Kurt believed in God he would have thought to be doing his work.

However, the ritualistic covering of the wrists and adopting of fake names was frowned upon by most of the modern world, Kurt thought it was right. Kurt thought it made sense.

He believed in his father and the cause with every fiber of his being.

Even if he and his fellows were shamed. They were told that they were 'going against nature' and denying the one true part of themselves; something that could never go away like all else.

Kurt wasn't sure if they were right, too but all he knew was that he led a more fulfilled, worthy and confident path. He was his own person, and the cuff on his wrist is what kept him from being distracted.

Secretly though, Kurt mourned for Blaine Anderson. He was probably soft-heartened romantic that would fly to Paris and back just because he found some guy named Kurt Hummel on Google. But they would probably never meet, and eventually each other's names would fade to grey as their lives came to an end, never knowing the other.

Kurt only let that small pang of sadness and loss register in moments of complete isolation. He could never show weakness. He could never show surrender. No matter how heavy that cuff would weigh on him in moments of vulnerability.

That was until he met 'Ben'.

***

"You're Kal right? Burt's son?"

Kurt was startled while in a stupor stapling some pamphlets by an overly eager voice and a brisk attention-grabbing tap on his shoulder. It was like an electric current down his spine.

"Yes," Kurt responded breathlessly, turning to greet the new recruit. He was nothing short of beautiful.

He had bright, joyful hazel eyes that matched his voice, a smile stretched so wide across his face, Kurt couldn't help but return it. The younger boy's enthusiasm accentuated puppy-like features, so Kurt was instantly swooning.

Kurt blinked, attempting to collect himself. "And you are?"

"I'm Ben," he replied cordially, holding out his hand to shake, which Kurt took gratefully without hesitation.

There was the briefest of beats the moment their skin met before Kurt's wrist was erupting in pain, burning and smarting enough to make both of them tense their grip before letting go.

Kurt's heart started thumping wildly in his chest, his breath now frighteningly short. He attempted to school his features and was wary enough to notice Ben was in a similar state of discomfort. There was a long pause as they searched each other's eyes, wondering what to say. Trying to understand.

He glanced down at Ben's wrist cuff briefly, noticing it was elaborately designed with bright colors and patterns, matching the bow-tie he was wearing. It oddly gave Kurt this sense of foreboding.

Kurt felt Ben's gaze still on him, so he looked back up quickly, biting his lip. He wondered if Ben had a similar experience to him, but then worried that he was being judged by his unusual reaction. Kurt wouldn't blame him.

Either way it was, "Sorry," and Kurt's face was hot from embarrassment, body stiff and alert. His vision seemed clearer, the air fresher.

Kurt's wrist has burned similarly time and again before, but it was never quite like that, not since the day his mark made its final brand. But that was something to mull over another day, not when there was so much to be done.

"No problem," Ben laughed easily, and as fast as the tension arrived, it was gone.

"Shall I show you around headquarters?" Kurt offered, presenting his arm for Ben to take. "My Dad's speech isn't for another hour."

"Certainly," Ben said, allowing a respectful nod of his head, which was coiffed with gel in a 50's style 'do.

What a fucking dream boat, Kurt's mind sighed.

What Kurt didn't realize was that this was the pivotal point in his life where everything changed forever.