Chapter Text
Rurik's lower lip curled into a sour pout as he shoved his crusty camo t-shirt into his bag, his face scrunching like a changeling of a baby ready to wail with all the force of its little lungs. Tears and screams beg for the attention of a mother who was too intoxicated with a putrid serum that left the smell of rot and alcohol on her lips. But Rurik wasn't a baby anymore. No, now he was older. Just four years shy of ten years old. And he no longer cried out for Fink. He learned long ago that his father was too far gone, unable to help himself let alone his son. Rurik was smarter now. He knew not to cry. He knew not to reach out for his help. He was clever. He was grown up. As the young boy threw his bag over his back, slipping his arms through the straps and tightening it flush against his spine, he reminded himself of the five most important lessons of his life. Lessons his father had taught him through experience. Lessons that he valued and was thankful his father had taught him. These lessons were to help him survive. The stuffy atmosphere of the hallway was suffocatingly intimidating, the heat of the damp air around his body, taunting him with discomfort, discouraging his every step. But still, the young boy stepped forward fearlessly as though he were shuffling to the trenches for the first time, unaware of the threat before him. But Rurik knew better. He was not a stranger to the danger of his transgression. Yet still, he marched onward with a head held up high, allowing the humid heat to lick at his brittle neck with no fear in his eyes. In his mind, he pictured himself as a general in a wasteland, trudging fearlessly through the vast emptiness towards the battlefield. He felt no fear. He was ready.
Rurik's confidence in his decision diminished as he reached the living room door and involuntarily caught a glimpse of his father within... Fink lay limply on the ground, the comfort of his position akin to that of a discarded corpse. Rurik wanted to look away and continue marching like the brave soldier he wanted to be, but he could never be brave in front of Fink. In front of Fink, he was a little boy again. And the little boy couldn't look away from the bottles blanketing his father's frail emaciated form no matter how much the soldier wanted to. None would ever guess this hollow crumpled man was the mighty Guardian of AUs of their Multiverse. The one in charge of protecting all timelines, making sure they don't deviate from their scripted codes or corrupt, the one who protects and prevents outcodes. But of course, Fink disappointed everyone in that department too. To the masses, he was a pathetic man living miserably with his bastard son cultivated from a filthy affair. And the soldier agreed with them. But the boy didn't. As the boy gazed upon his sleeping form, all he felt was the deep longing to nurture... His father needed him. Needed the gentle hands of a child's unconditional love. What kind of son would deny him that? What kind of son would just abandon him in his time of need? Rurik swallowed the lump in his throat, a droplet of sweat slowly gliding down his cheek. The soldier began to yell at him, ordering him to continue marching, to move his legs, and to get out of there as planned. To be a man and leave. But the boy pleaded with him. The boy cried and begged for him to have mercy on their ill father. To shed the bottles from his body and blanket him with soft fabrics, taking him to the couch to rest. Rurik could listen to neither, standing frozen at the doorway with his gaze lowered towards the one who gave him life. The soldier and the boy fought in his head, deafening him to the world around him and facing him with a hard choice he had cowardly run from time and time again.
STAY
LEAVE
He felt his soul thumping hard against his chest, his breathing quickening as his throat constricted in a suffocatingly claustrophobic manner. This was it. This was the time to make the choice. The soldier's voice grew louder. A voice of rage. Fink was a coward. A nobody. A man who would rather waste his life away feeling sorry for himself than actually step up as a father and protect his young. Cowards don't deserve the love and care he demanded. Fink was not their father. He was a parasite. Rurik's brows furrowed, and a look of deep-seated hatred filled his eyelights. How dare this waste of a man make him feel guilty? Make him feel bad for leaving him? He wasn't even worth a glance. The soldier filled his mind with promises of more. A powerful life as a ruthless enforcer. One who would bring order to their Multiverse and fix his father's failings no matter the cost. The soldier would protect him. He didn't need Fink. Just as he was about to turn his gaze away, the boy shrieked in his mind. How dare Rurik think like that?! Fink was their father. He may have failed in protecting them but they knew it was more complicated than that. Fink too had been wronged. Hadn't been protected. Were they really going to abandon him as he abandoned them? Rurik's gaze softened. How could he turn his back on his father...? The father that failed him yet needed him? Was he really going to stoop down to Fink's level? The soldier insisted they were nothing like him. They were choosing strength. To move on and to build a better life. A stronger life. A life of a man who could protect others, unlike his father. They were nothing like him. The boy refused to accept this, however. They wanted to protect their world. Why did they have to exclude their father? The very man who gave them life? Shouldn't he be their top priority? He needed saving too. It wasn't fair. It wasn't-
"You just gonna stand there?" Rurik flinched at the gruff, glitchy voice that coaxed his attention back toward the hallway. There, standing intimidatingly tall, was Fink's boyfriend, Crash. Rurik felt a chill up his spine. Having Crash's attention was never a good thing. Fink had always blamed Rurik for his rocky relationship with Crash, and thus always turned a blind eye whenever Crash decided Rurik had shown any signs of disrespect. The soldier immediately yelled at him to run, to take action, to flee and take control of his life once and for all. But the boy was too scared. The boy was faced with a monster he wasn't brave enough to defeat. He wanted to run to Fink, to hide in his embrace, to cower in his arms away from the threat. Rurik just stared at Crash in silence like a deer in headlights. "I asked you a question, boy." Crash said, his eyes narrowing as he crossed his arms. "Answer it." The soldier wanted to run. The boy wanted to seek protection. But Rurik knew both were in vain. ".....n-no" He mumbled, his gaze shifting to his feet. The soldier yelled at him for his cowardly spineless display of weakness. For DARING to lower his head. The soldier urged him not to submit but the boy pleaded for it. Pleaded for him to just do as he was told. That it will hurt less if he does. That being difficult would get him nowhere. "Then what are you doing here?" Crash inquired, his head high like a judge sentencing him to death row. Rurik swallowed, taking a shaky breath before slowly raising his head. Before he could speak, both of their attentions drifted to the living room, a groan from Fink disrupting their interrogation. Fink slowly sat up, the clinking of bottles clattering the floor filling the tense silence as Fink rubbed his tired, hungover eyes.
The boy naively cheered, longing to run into his father's embrace. To be his son. To be protected. But Rurik knew better. Fink's eyes narrowed, setting his critical gaze on Rurik as he scowled. "Really? Acting up already?" He let out a frustrated sigh. "Why can't you just respect your father, eh?" His voice was slurred, his index pointing at Rurik in an accusatory manner. "You just HAVE to be a nasty ink stain? A nasty boy?" But his scowl softened and he opened his arms. "....no...no, it's not your fault, is it?" Before Rurik could stop himself, the boy lunged into Fink's arms, burying his face into his shoulder and letting out soft whimpers. "it's not your fault...it's mine... for bringing something like you into this world.... such an unnatural boy... a boy between Multiverses..." Fink mumbled, gently stroking the top of Rurik's head with no regard for the heartbreak of his words. "I should've spared you your life when I had the chance... I'm sorry, Ru... I'm sorry I let you become this nasty boy..." Rurik could feel a deep pain in his chest with each word, his bones rattling with the weight of Fink's words. Crash leaned against the doorway, a bored look on his face as he gazed upon the distressing scene. Rurik knew ... he knew neither of them would ever care. Not in the way the boy needed them to. Taking a deep breath... Rurik listened to the soldier. He took hold of one of the empty glass bottles by their side, raising his arm and bringing it down on the skull of his father.
ATTACK
Fink shrieked as Rurik jumped back, his chest heaving rapidly with each breath as he tried to keep his hand steady. "YOU UNGRATEFUL BITCH!" Fink shrieked, reaching out to grab Rurik's arm. But the soldier expected this. He jumped to the side, running past Crash and out the front door as fast as his little legs would carry him. "CRASH! GET HIM!" Fink shrieked, struggling to his feet as his skull bled. Crash simply chuckled. "Nah. It's YOUR kid. You chose to keep it. You fetch" He mocked, turning away and walking down the hall to their room. Fink slammed his fist against the wall, struggling to keep himself up through his disorienting head injury. "GO GET MY FUCKING BABY!" He wailed, but his hysteria fell on deaf ears. Crash didn't bother. He knew Fink wouldn't care as soon as his vials ran out. He'd finally get to stop playing 'stepdad' to the disgusting aftermath of Fink's affair. All he had to do was wait for Fink to tire himself out. Rurik continued to run, ignoring the burning in his legs. The soldier carried him with adrenaline, guiding his steps through portal after portal, world after world until he finally collapsed from exhaustion on soft piercingly cold snow. He began to dryheave, the guilt and panic of the boy tearing at his soul. HOW COULD HE HURT HIS FATHER LIKE THAT?! HE WANTED TO BE A PROTECTOR. TO BE BETTER THAN FINK. He choked on his own sobs, tears, spit, and snot covering his face as he wailed, curling up and shivering as his tiny body was rocked with the aftershocks of his grave actions.
He was so overwhelmed by the screaming voices of the soldier and the boy... so overcome by grief from his betrayal of his creator... so full of fear of the consequences of his liberty... that he didn't hear the approaching footsteps of crunching boots on the snow beneath. Nor did he notice as the figure leaned in front of him. What he did notice was that the figure pulled him into a warm embrace. His eyes shot upward, meeting the gaze of much kinder softer yellow eyes. His breath caught in his throat as he held the stranger's gaze. Something about those warm welcoming yet pitiful eyes felt so familiar... so intimate... The boy felt drawn to those eyes... while the soldier felt repulsed by them. Rurik tried to withdraw from the stranger's embrace, kicking at him and struggling to be released from the comfort of his arms, but the stranger refused to let him go. Instead, he lifted him as he stood, cradling him close to his chest like an infant and rubbing his back. His movements were gentle. Kind even. They were so foreign to Rurik that he tensed, too stunned to continue his assault on the stranger. "...shhh...shhh...I've got you... it's alright..." The stranger soothed, his aura warm and soothing. Rurik couldn't help but relax into the magic, the warm aura reminding him of the warmth of a blanket cradling his icy bones. He felt held... but not like how Fink held him. This hold was kind. This hold was protective. This hold was reassuring. At this moment... the boy and the soldier were quiet.
Dream gently carried the sleeping boy in his arms back to the Star Sanses HQ, wrapping him in his cape for warmth. The poor thing had tired himself out sobbing into his chest and ended up falling asleep in his arms. Dream let out a heavy sigh, holding the boy so close, it was almost as if he was afraid he'd dust in his arms if he didn't clutch him so tightly. He knew who the boy in his arms was. The boy he'd been trying to reach for the past six years yet was just out of his grasp. His son... Rurik... "... I'm sorry for taking so long, Ru..." He gently kissed his forehead. "...but now that I've got you... I'm never letting him have you again... I promise... I'll protect you..."