Sleepwalker, a Glee fanfiction by DarkMistress.

Kurt Hummel has his reasons.
A reason for the facials, a reason for the near obsession with fashion. He has a reason for the fact that he doesn't sleep in a dorm like everyone else and there's a reason for his desperate need to live his dream, the only good one he's ever had.
A reason for his moments of bitchyness, as well as the tenderness he feels towards those he loves.
There might even be a reason for the pain, like there is a reason for everything.
If only he knew the reason behind the haunted nights he's cursed with.Prologue

Enter one Dave Karofsky, who might just have a few reasons of his own.

Prologue

The eyes of Burt Hummel flew open, green eyes staring into the darkness; disoriented at first, but quickly realising why he was roused from his sleep, again.

Kurt.

He sighed, gently pulling the covers away, in order not to wake Carol and sat up, running his hands over his face. Again. Time and time again. He still couldn't quite accept the feeling of helplessness he felt at this moment. Because he knew what would happen, what was happening now.

Burt was both glad and terrified that he'd been woken up, even after all these years.
Glad because he didn't always hear it, or felt it. He wasn't exactly the most sensitive person around; he was the first to admit that. Glad because he wasn't always there, even though he wanted to.
The number of times he woke had dropped over the last years, even more so since Carol and Finn moved in with them.
And even though Kurt had assured him it was fine, that Burt needed his sleep and he could handle it, he still felt bad, knowing his son was hurting. It was like a constant nudge in the back of Burt's mind.
And it was the reason he was terrified, walking through the dark hallway, past Fin's room and towards the sound-proof basement.
It had to be bad, very bad, if he'd woken like this.

He rested his hand on the knob of the basement-door; the soft, smooth metal so different from his calloused hands.
He pushed the door open quickly, slipping inside and nearly tripping down the small set of stairs.
The room was lit, though dimly, because Kurt, for reasons obvious, never slept without his lights on.

He already heard Kurt's voice, his heavy breathing, and the tousling of his small body. All the pained little sounds amplified in his head.
With a worried, nearly pained expression on his face, Burt hurried to his son's bed.

A small, fragile groan of discomfort was released from Kurt's lips as he frantically turned around in his sleep, as though he was trying to hide from whatever haunted him tonight.
His legs already entwined with his sheets, he looked even smaller then usual and when Burt stroked the chestnut hair from the sweaty forehead, Kurt's skin felt ice-cold.
Maybe it wasn't that bad, he prayed, maybe they would go easy on Kurt tonight.

Suddenly, the boy on the bed let out a loud, gurgling scream, making Burt wince as his upper body bucked up, nearly making him fall off the bed.
Burt ignored every fatherly-instinct to reach out and try to make it go away, he knew better then to try and wake him, during. So he suppressed the need to comfort.
Instead he just grasped a flailing hand and held it, whispering soothing words to Kurt. His little boy.

It pained him so much to see Kurt like this, every time again.
He'd hoped Carol's presence would help, or heck, even Finn's. But nothing had helped and if anything, Kurt's situation had gotten worse. Burt hadn't thought that was even possible.

He grimaced when Kurt let out another painful moan and screamed again, louder this time. His feet were moving restlessly, confined by the blankets and he tried to pull his hand from Burt's, but the mechanic didn't let go. Stronger then his son, always small for his age –another result of sleep deprivion– he managed to grasp both of Kurt's wrists and hold them down against his sides.
It wouldn't be the first time kid had hurt himself in his sleep.
Kurt yelled and writhed and tried to break away from the harsh grip. Or maybe the nightmares, Burt wasn't sure.
He could only stare at his son's pale face and the shadows of bruises that showed beneath his closed eyes, now that he had removed all of the concealer.

Few knew the moisturising routines, facials and towlettes weren't just out of vanity.

Eventually, when he couldn't take it anymore, he sat on the bed and pulled his boy into his arms, just holding him.
The psychiatrist had said the presence of a loved one might help calm Kurt's subconscious down.
Even though Kurt had dismissed the nice man as an incompetent fool, Burt hadn't forgotten anything the man told them.

So he held Kurt, the boy himself unaware, –still agonised by his own mind— just like he'd held him so many times since the dreams started.

Kurt's been terrorized by the nightmares since he was eight. Every single night after the funeral.
At first, Burt had thought it was Kurt's way of mourning, sad and lost without his mother, whom he had shared such a strong bond with. He'd always been a sensitive, emotional child and Burt, though he hated hearing his son in pain, had thought it would eventually go away. That Kurt, at least, would move on.

But the nightly terrors hadn't stopped.

They had to learn to adjust to Kurt's… disease.

It had been Kurt's idea to move into the sound-proof basement, the place where his mother used to practice her instruments, in order not to upset the neighbours.
Burt himself had made Kurt try every doctor; all the sleep-medicines and any psychiatrist they suspected could help them. None of it actually worked, but Burt had been able to tell Kurt appreciated the effort, though he was usually dead-bored at any kind of appointment and hated swallowing things he didn't know the origins of.

Burt had tried to talk about the dreams with Kurt, but somehow, this always resulted in a failure. They were simply too bad, too indescribable for Kurt.
He had forced Kurt into bed when he refused to sleep for days, because even though he hated the nightmares just as much as Kurt did, he didn't want him in the hospital.
The elder Hummel had held the younger all night when things got bad.
But still Burt felt like he should and should've done more, though he couldn't possibly think of what he could do more.

Then there was the bullying, the extra load of having been the only gay kid at McKinley high. He'd received death-threads, simply because of who he was. Ridiculous.

Burt looked down at the face of his son, now buried in his chest; somehow, finally, having recognised his father though the cloud of sleep. He couldn't fathom why anybody would want to hurt him.

The kid was only frowning now, cutely scrunching his nose, the moans succumbed, but Burt knew the worst had yet to come; it always came in waves.

His eyes fell on the warbler's uniform, folded neatly on Kurt's desk. Once more he sighed; for he still wasn't sure if that decision had been the right one.
Burt Hummel had never been one to run away from his problems, but he realised Kurt couldn't exactly punch his problem in the face, like Burt would've done his age.
The boy in his arms, already so tormented by the nightmares, ridiculed by his peers, didn't deserve to be scared both night and day.
So they transferred him, to a place where he couldn't be his regular, extravagant self. Where the whole individuality-thing he held so high was fairly nonexistent.
He was part of the crowd now, but at least he was safe.

Burt wasn't sure, however, if he was happy, too.

But there was nothing he could do. There was never anything he could do.
So he just held Kurt, like he'd done all these years, all those nights. He held his little boy close as he screamed and trashed. His arms never budged, though they were scratched and bitten at. He didn't even think of letting go, because it was the only thing he could do and he be damned if he would loose that too.

They sat like that all night, a lone, silent tear trailing over Burt's cheek and mixing with those on Kurt's porcelain skin.
What else was there to do? What else but love?

Major thanks and smoochies to my lovely girl hanna no tsuki-chan for the pre-read.
Leave some love on your way out!