All Stitched Up (Male reader x Arcane)

A Shimmer of Life Shines Through

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The moon crawled it's way through the rickety windows and into a small bedroom. The walls looked ancient; it's paint peeling like dead skin. The bed in the corner of the tiny room began to rumble and shake in spurts. A boy shot up from the ragged covers with a gasp. He frantically looked around the room, before finally calming down.

"Just a dream." he whispered, as to not wake his parent that were sleeping on the other side of the thin wall. "Just a very bad dream."

The sounds of clicking boots made it's way to the boy's ears. In his sleep deprived state, he waddled over to the ramshackle windows.

People. Lots and lots of people. They wore heavy, golden-tinged armor. A gas mask that matched with their suits gave them an intimidating aura. Their green eyepieces shined dimly in the dead of the night. They brandished deadly looking longneck rifles; anything that was put into those iron sights fell down almost instantly. He had seen it once before. Dad said it "put people to sleep."

He could use some sleep right about now. Were they coming to help him sleep? That would be nice.

Before he could waddle his way back over to his bed, his father burst through the splintered door.

The boy's father scooped him up in his arms, and grab the blanket off the bed to wrap around the child.

"Come. Come now. We must go." father hushed and he scrambled out the bedroom. The sleepy men from before were already there; the door to the outside had been kicked off it's hinges. Dad dashed through to the adjacent doorway, as loud bangs finally awoke the boy from his fog.

He covered his ears tightly as his father made his way through a hatch on the floor. Dad has made this specifically for this situation; he remembered hearing that. With a click, and many muffled screams, the slapping off feet on the wet cobblestone told him that he was in the alleyways. Zaun seemed to have an unlimited amount of alleyways.

Left. Right. Straight. Another Left. Straight. Another left. Right. His father finally stopped, and put the boy on the ground. He lifted the boys chin with a finger, and looked him in the eyes.

"Bobby. You must run. Far away from here. Do not stop. Do not stop for anything until the sun arises. And even then, keep running. They are everywhere." Father then stood up from his crouch, and faced the way the had been running from.

"Now go." Bobby faltered, and clutched at his father's pants. 

"GO!" he demanded. The clicking of boots became evident, and his father shoved Bobby along. With that, Bobby's bare feet began to take him away. He heard yelling, echoed grunts, and people yelling in pain. It was dad! He was winning against the sleepy men!

He went to turn around, to go help his father in his fight.

A single shot rang out, stinging Bobby's ears.

They put dad to sleep. But for some reason, he wouldn't ever wake.

Bobby scampered through different streets, the undercity oddly calm tonight. The blanket draped around him, he made his new home in a tower of carboard boxes.

The tears flowed from his eyes without any sign of stopping. Being away from dad was scary. He was always there to protect him. To comfort him.

What now? The thought easily wedged it's way into Bobby's mind. Would the sleepy people come after him now? Why did they come for us in the first place? Bobby shut his easily uncertainly and let of a shuddering huff.