All Stitched Up (Male reader x Arcane)

Confrontation

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Bobby's face sank into the salt water, tingling his ears and cheeks. He ran his fingers through his scalp, washing away the dirt and grime. He finally lifted his head, parting the hair from his eyes. 

The sunsets from inside this little cave was always so magical. The setting sun danced across the water, throwing it into multiple shades of orange. Made naturally in the cave stood Pop's workshop. From the outside, it looked like a simple door. Looks are deceiving.

Opening the rickety door, Bobby took a elongated sigh, the familiarity of home hitting him. This was the closing thing to it. He had a place to sleep, running water, and he could always find food. Strolling through the laboratory, he eyes once again settled on the gigantic tube smack dab in the middle of the main room.

It emitted a dark green hue; that, and many other tubes gave the place it's natural light. A creature unbeknownst to Bobby floated inside it, bubbles lazily drifted around it. He had asked Pop about it before. It's name was Rio. Pop said it was best he did not know it before hand.

"The mutation must survive" Bobby quoted. Those words had drilled themselves deep into Bobby's mind. Moving along, his eyes wandered across tables filled with papers, vials, tubes of specimens and different medical equipment. It was how he learned; thanks to Pop. He wandered to his little section, dimly lit by an orange light.

It was simple; a bedroll stacked on top of wooden cabinets. An ancient nightstand stood at it's side, which held most of his clothes. He stripped the blanket off his bed, and packed a small amount of clothes within it. He left the underwater lab after saying his goodbyes to Pop; he was going to his first sleepover!

At first, he was hesitant; he had never done something like this before. Powder had kept begging him, and Mylo followed in suit. After many minutes of begging and cohesion, he cracked and said sure. They were ecstatic, and he had left them to where Bobby was now.

Closing the door behind him, his mind traveled to distant memories.

His swollen feet felt no better on the wet stone than the cracked pavement. His lungs felt as though they would melt, and the bleeding on his forehead had yet to stop.

His knees and ankles were in similar fashion; lady luck was nowhere near his side. He had stolen a loaf of bread from a street vendor; he was starving after all. Wasn't that what the topsiders were for? To help the poor? It was a lesson he'd soon learn.

The sleepy men were after him once again, yelling and throwing things at him like they always did. He had somehow made it across the bridge, but they still followed. Why wouldn't they let up? Did they know of his terrible sleep problems? Were they trying to help him that bad?

No. Something told him to keep running. So he dashed through Zaun, taking every possible back alley and secret route to get away from them. Cuts and slashes slowly scattered themselves across his body, rubbing against the brick walls and falling occasionally. But they still wouldn't let up.

It was only until he jump in the water that the sleepy men stopped. He floated to the other side, the bread long gone now. He was freezing, the dirty salt water stinging his skin. He sauntered deeper into the rocks, until he came somewhat of a cave.

Nestled in the back right of the cave stood an old door. It looked as though it was forgotten in time. In front of him stood a massive stalagmite, slanted towards towards a decent sized pool of water. It separated itself from the ocean here, yet still flowed outwards like a river. It's lazy waves almost see through. Much cleaner than anything he's seen before.

He risked it, cupping his cut hands into the water and quickly lifting it to his mouth. His tiny body was still full of adrenaline, and only when the salty taste hit his tongue was when he realized he drank salt water.