Kurt Hummel was never one for social cliques. Then again, they were pretty useless, considering the chance of seeing a friend again after Division Day was roughly 5%. So why cling to someone you may never see again? He just didn't think it was worth the heart ache. Hence his preference to just keep to himself.

He sighed as he walked through the double doors of the cafeteria, mentally preparing himself for the slurs and insults that were sure to be thrown at him. True to Kurt's thoughts, he heard Karofsky yell out from his table of overly beefy jocks with overly skinny cheerleaders.

"Well well well, look who decided to grace us with his disgusting presence? It's no other than Faggot Hummel! Bet you guys he'll be chosen as a Reject and get thrown outta here. Or even better, he'll be put in Destitute!"

"Let's hope so, no one wants him contaminating us all with his queer presence." Commented one of the skinny cheerleaders.

Kurt tried his best to compose himself when he heard most of the people sitting with and around the jocks laughing at his expence. He managed to school his features into a neutral expression as he filled his tray out with the tasteless food that the education centers served. He could hear more insults being hurled at him with laughter following each one, but he managed to block out most of the words. After all, this was a daily occurrence. He was used to it.

Just as he picked up his tray to turn around, he came face to face with none other than Karofsky himself. Kurt froze, trying his best to keep the fear inside him from showing. He looked around and saw that everybody was staring at them expectantly. He gulped and looked back to the beefy, smelly teenager towering over him. "I was talking to you, Hummel. When I talk to you, you don't ignore me." Karofsky threatened, taking a step forward as Kurt subconsciously took one back.

"I don't consider throwing insults at me at any given chance 'talking to me'." Kurt bit out unthinkingly, trying to go around the jock. Just as he was about to walk away, Kurt tripped on the leg Karofsky thrust in front of him, managing to dive face forward onto the tray of food that he had spilled during his graceless fall. The entire cafeteria erupted into laughter as Kurt slowly stood up, including Karofsky who was doubled over with mirth. Kurt's face was a crimson red, his hands shaking as he tried to remove as many bits of food from his hair as he could. He willed himself not to cry as he stalked out of the cafeteria and made his way to the bathroom.

He all but broke down the second the door closed behind him. He was angry. Angry at himself for crying, angry at himself for never standing up for himself, and angry at the homophobes in the world who couldn't seem to understand that being gay wasn't a choice. Why would you choose to be an 'abomination that needs to be banished from the world'? Why should the person's thoughts about you change as soon as the words 'I'm gay' come out?

He stared at himself in the mirror, stared at the hollow eyes reflected back to him. He couldn't wait for Division Day, if not only to never see these bullies ever again.

But oh, how Kurt was mistaken.

Kurt unlocked his bedroom's door and stepped in sluggishly. He threw his book bag onto the bed haphazardly, along with his body. He turned onto his back, staring blankly at the plain white paint of the ceiling. He thought absentmindedly that the walls would have been less depressing if they were a light blue. It would be a nice contrast with the whiteness of everything else. But everybody knew that changing, or adding anything to the rooms was prohibited. Every student here at Ensconce was given a single, slightly small room. All the rooms were identical. With their twin-sized bed, white closet and desk, and white walls. There was a window on the wall opposite of the door, which Kurt was very grateful for. Sleeping in a dull and boring room reflected on his mood sometimes, and he was grateful for the window so he could stare at the different color shades of the sky.

He spent a lot of his time sitting on his desk chair staring out the window, thinking about what could have been. He constantly thought of how life would be if there was no rebellion. If everyone was treated as an equal. If he had a family. If he had someone who could love him. There were days where Kurt felt so lonely that he cry himself to sleep, thinking 'What if?'. He also constantly thought about what name his parents would choose for him, seeing as once you're born, a name generator chooses your name for you. He ended up with Kurt Humel.

Naturally, Kurt wished he would be chosen into Dynamic. Everybody knew that Dynamic was as good as it gets, when it came to sectors. To him, though, seeing as he was gay, he desperately hoped he wouldn't be chosen into Coercion. The thought of being imprisoned in a home with a random girl with the job of getting her pregnant made him nauseous. His second most dreaded choice would have to be Destitute. Destitute was the only sector in which its citizen couldn't fall in love. He'd heard stories of those who did. Of how they were tortured to the point of death, for simply feeling something for another person. The rule was cruel, and utterly disgusting in Kurt's opinion.

Everybody chosen into Destitute was bound to change. For the worse, or course. It was a life no one should ever know. It was pretty much a sector of hurt and pain for the pleasure of the Anarchs. Whoever was chosen into it, slipped into the deep end of the void whether they liked it or not. Most of them become lost forever. Even a Reject had more freedom than a Destitute did. He sighed and turned onto his side, knowing he wouldn't be anything but restless for the entire day and morning of tomorrow.

Tomorrow was Division Day.

The alarm on his bedside table continued to blare until Kurt had no choice but to groan and reach out to stop the annoying sound. He rolled onto his back and slung his arm over his face, shielding his eyes from the light coming through the window. He had barely gotten any sleep last night. His mind was on overdrive. He couldn't stop thinking about the possibilities of what the day held. He just couldn't wrap his mind around it. He didn't know whether he wanted to cry out of sheer happiness that he would get out of high school, or out of fear at what the future held. He peaked from under his arm to check the time, and sighed as he realized he needed to get up to get ready.

He took a hot shower, went through his skin care and then changed into his Division Day outfit which was provided by Anarchia. He stared at his reflection once he was done, taking even breaths. Today's the day, Kurt. Today's the day that will change your life forever. There's no getting out of it now. He took a deep breath, took one last look at his reflection and bedroom, and left.

Over in Destitute, groups were huddled around the big screens built into the walls of the sector to watch the Divisions. Blaine Anderson watched alone from the rooftop of one of the buildings.

He hated Division Day. He hated seeing the expressions of the teenagers who were called into Destitute. Seeing their hope for a happy life disappear right in front of their eyes. The same expression he had when he saw his blood swirl in that bowl. The same exact fear, defeat, hopelessness that he felt. It was no secret that his sector was the most fucked up of them all. He'd only been here for a year, so this would be his first time watching the Divisions from his sector and not from back in Ensconce.

There was more than one educational center in Ensconce, so he recognized a few faces from the one he used to be in, but the others he did not. Just like the boy who was just called out.

"Kurt Hummel."

The boy was lithe, with porcelain skin and features that looked sculpted. When the boy stood up shakily, Blaine saw how the boy's legs seemed to go on forever. His chestnut-colored hair was fixed into a perfect coif, one that highlighted his bone structure. The sharp nose and jaw, high cheekbones, full pink lips, and sea-green eyes had Blaine unable to do anything but stare. The boy was beautiful, simple as that. So beautiful, in fact, that Blaine had subconsciously moved closer to the edge of the rooftop to get a better view.

He watched the boy wince as blood was taken from his forefinger. As the Anarch placed a drop in each bowl and waited for a reaction, he couldn't help the selfish tingle at the back of his mind that wished for the boy to be chosen into his sector. But as soon as the thought occurred to him, Blaine pushed it out of his head. Thoughts like that wouldn't do him any good, so Blaine squared his features, ignoring the nagging at the back of his mind, and waited for the blood's reaction.

He payed attention to the boy's face. To the various emotions dancing around in his eyes as he tried to school his expression. He also didn't miss the little tremors in his knees, or the way he was wringing his fingers nervously.

Finally, the Anarch stood up to announce his new sector. His heart did an unexpected clench when he saw the boy's nervous expression change to pure, unmasked shock and pain as the man announced the sector he would be joining.

"Destitute."