[!] Content Warning [!]

The following chapter contains Cheating/Adultery. Reader discretion is advised. 

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"Okay let's do this! I can... I can do this."

Roark clapped his hands together, putting on a false grin for absolutely no one to see. "This is easy... Just sift through all the boxes, toss the junk, and make sure the room isn't a total tip! Just like dad said! Easy! I'm... Sweet merciful mew i'm just talking to myself..." he ran his hands through his hair, pacing back and forth in front of the smooth wooden door that housed his home's storage room.

The storage room was tucked away within the dark recesses of the ground floor. Roark never knew what the room was used for before his father turned it into junk central, but as far as he was aware it was always like that. Vague childhood memories of him peering inside the dark crevices, eyes widening at the sheer amount of boxes and papers stacked high, towering and looming over him, just waiting for a chance to collapse and crush him flat. He distinctly remembered crying one of these times, and he couldn't help but cringe.

He tugged the hairband from his wrist and drew his long hair into a low ponytail. He always hated putting his hair up, preferring to be able to freely run his fingers through his red locs, but getting hair in his face while sifting through boxes was not something he was wanting to deal with. He clapped his hands together again with a sigh. "Let's do this! As it... beats training for 50 hours a week." he shook his ponytail off his shoulder and sent it cascading down his back.

In one motion he swung the door open, and stepped back a bit. Boxes stacked higher than him peered down at him in the dark, papers and other assorted junk fluttered around the room, old toys leered out at him from their cardboard prisons. He could almost imagine the anime-esque bead of sweat dripping off his forehead. "Let's just get this over with..." he muttered dejectedly under his breath.

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The hours dragged by at a Marcargo's pace, filled with nothing but boxes and papers. The job was even more mind-numbingly boring than Roark thought. He'd grab a few boxes, watching the occasional spattering of papers fall to the ground like leaves, and sift through them, dumping old or useless papers into bin bags, and neatly stacking the rest. He didn't mind as much as he would've thought, he was quite enjoying the trip down memory lane. It was mostly the old photos he'd stumble across. Ones of his father and mother, tangled in each other's arms, loving smiles stretched across their faces. Or him and his pokemon from when he was a young boy, clinging to his Cranidos for dear life as the pokemon dragged him down the garden, chasing after a poor Starly. He remembered how hard his dad laughed - he didn't find it funny in the moment, but he could appreciate it now.
There were plenty of other things that caught his eye as he sifted through the stacks; old toys long since put away, smudged crayon drawings that his mother used to hang on the fridge, tattered school books that looked a second away from crumbling into dust. He couldn't help but quirk a smile at the sight of them. Mostly sad smiles, but smiles nonetheless.

"Oh Arceus-" he wheezed, stumbling backwards a few paces, arms laden with a stack of three, incredibly heavy boxes.
His mind whirred as he wondered just what his dad could've put in them, when a sudden noise snapped him to attention; a soft sliding sound that ended with a startling clatter. Something must've fallen off the box stack he grabbed, he realised. He dumped the box stack with a 'hmph', straightening up to stretch his poor back. And poor back indeed, as he got to searching for whatever made the clattering sound. "There!" he breathed a sigh of relief, snatching up the mysterious object, hiding itself next to one of the sorted box piles.

And his relief quickly turned to confusion as he realised what exactly he was holding. "A... phone? What kind of phone even is this?" Roark's eyebrows raised.

He didn't recognise the device, that's for sure. Small, sleek, and black, fitting a little too snug in the palm of his hand. There was a word for this type of phone, he was certain, just out of reach in the corner of his mind.
A slow feeling of dread trickled into his stomach. This phone... felt wrong. Something about it was wrong, making a cold sweat begin to form across his back. But he was curious about it, the strange device hidden away in the storage room. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he thumbed the on button.

He was surprised to see it even turn on; he thought the batteries would be long dead by now. But the screen lit up with blue light, displaying something he seriously wasn't expecting. Something that made his throat go dry.

A series of text messages, from a number, from a name, he certainly didn't recognise. Texts from years ago - the maths indicating it took place some 18 years ago.

Ariana: Last night was fun, but I have to tell you something. I'm sorry for not telling you, but I'm married.

Ariana: Hello?

Ariana: Hello???

Ariana: Don't fucking ignore me Byron. Pick up.

Ariana: PICK UP DAMMIT

Ariana: Fuck you too then.

The phone almost fell from his trembling fingers. He let out a strange, strangled noise from the back of his throat. He felt hot, vision swimming. He stumbled to his knees, curling his hands tighter and tighter around the device, like he wanted to snap it in half.

It was a burner phone.

That wasn't his mother's name.

His father was

Byron was

"No- No no Arceus no this has to be-" he wheezed, eyes scanning the texts over and over again, a sick mantra drilling further and further into his head.
His fingers trembled as he flicked through the phone's home page, dragging up the call log. He sucked in a ragged breath as he took in the stream of missed calls. Dozens of them.

The phone slipped from his fingers with a too-loud clatter, making him jump. The gym-leader slumped down onto his haunches, staring at the horrid device burning images into his vision. Images of his father doing unimaginable things. And the time. At that time his mother was still...

He snatched up the device without a word, eyes and face burning with fear and indignation. He needed to get out. He didn't care that it was late, he needed to get out, to clear his head. To clear things up. He roughly shoved the phone into his pocket. Out of sight, out of mind. He grabbed his own phone, one not filled with texts like that. He dragged up the number he wanted, and hit the dial. He heard nothing but the sound of his own ragged breaths and the ringing of his own device.

"Hm? Hey Roark, what's up?"

"A-Aaron can I- You're not busy right? Can we- can I meet up with you?"

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The air was cold, nipping at Roark's cheeks, but he barely noticed. The blood roaring in his ears and the dryness of his throat was a good enough distraction. He just hurried along, boots clumping against the pavement of the streets of Veilstone City, eyes scanning to spot a comfortingly familiar face. Aaron had told the miner that he was at a cafe with Maylene, and he immediately jumped to meet with him. And so, he found himself hurrying along the still-bustling streets, as the sun began to slip beneath the horizon, casting the world into duller and duller shadows. He tugged his thick collar tighter around his neck. "Roark! Roark over here! I'm waving! Look at me waving!" a sudden familiar voice broke through the dull chatter of pedestrians, and Roark jumped, spinning around on his heels.

His face broke out into an automatic smile at the sight of the bug-type elite 4 member, waving his hand aggressively in Roark's direction. "Hey-!" he returned the wave, hurrying over as fast as he could.

"I- Oh Arceus why aren't you wearing a jacket." Roark's face fell, as he finally registered that Aaron was, in fact, not wearing a jacket.

"S'not that cold. Be glad we're not in Snowpoint." Aaron leisurely stretched on his chair, bare arms behind his head.

"...You are an enigma, Aaron." Roark sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, earning a cackle from the bug-type specialist.

"And you are rude for ignoring me!" A sudden voice cried, and Roark found himself being pulled into a dreaded headlock + noogie combination.
He yelped, writhing around in his assailant's - Maylene - arms, before she let him go with a laugh, and he was left flushed and brushing his messy hair down as best as he could.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I've just got a lot on my mind-" the poor miner whined in protest.

"Don't worry about it Roark, c'mon. Take a seat and order a drink, my treat." The fighting-type specialist nudged Roark's elbow as he buried himself deeper into his collar.

"I- Okay yeah sure, that's fine. Black coffee, if that's not a bother."

"...Ew."

After Roark snagged a free chair to add to his friend's table, and Maylene returned with a cup of coffee that made her make one too many unnecessary black-coffee-hatred remarks, he looked between the two of them; Aaron staring at him, hands cupping his face, and Maylene taking a sip from a steaming coffee cup. "So what's with the sudden visit Roarky? You missed us that bad you broke out of prison?" Aaron tilted his head, somehow making ':3' with his face.

"Ah- Well..." Roark's stomach plummeted, brain scrambling to find any sort of excuse, "You... caught me!"

Maylene threw back her head with a laugh. "Knew it! Your dad pushes you too much Roark, you need to wind down with some friends every once and a while."

"Hah... yeah. Maybe I should stop listening to him as much..." he trailed off, voice growing quieter as the anxiety that gnawed at his stomach began moving up his oesophagus.

Aaron gave a mock gasp, crossing his arms and cocking his head. "Wow, who are you and what have you done to Roark?"

"Hey!" he protested, "I just... think you guys might be right a bit. I mean I know I forget I'm 22 all the time but... I'm an adult. I don't need to listen to my dad."

He looked down, fingers running along the grooves of the coffee cup. Especially if he didn't deserve it, he thought.

An idea crept into his mind, taking hold of the reins in his head and before he knew it he opened his mouth and- "Hey so... I saw this... calendar. While I was sorting out boxes and uhm... I saw this date highlighted- Circled. Like dad had drawn a circle on it. Some... odd 18 years ago. Does that... seem- Would you guys know what that date could be...?" He gave the two an awkward, sheepish smile.

Aaron and Maylene looked between each other. Then looked back to Roark. "Roark, we were both kids when that happened. I don't know how you'd expect us to know." Maylene deadpanned.

Roark took an awkwardly slow sip of his coffee, the heat scalding his throat and flushing his cheeks red. Not the embarrassment doing that, no. The coffee.

"I mean... we know someone who would know, don't we?" Aaron looked at Roark.
The miner sucked in a too-large gulp of coffee, and barely managed to stop himself from spluttering it all over the table.

"Bertha! I can call her up right now actually-" the bug-type specialist cheered, whipping his phone out and giving it a jaunty shake, as Roark regretted his premature panic.

Aaron got to work fiddling with his phone for a few seconds, as Roark lowered his cup and head to the table, resting the latter in his arms. His throat and chest ached, and he felt a bit foolish. He hated that he thought Aaron would jump to ask his father. He hated that he couldn't trust his father. It was still entirely possible that it was all fake, and yet... "Ah, Aaron! What is it you need?" A sudden old voice cut through Roark's thoughts, and he looked up.

"Heya Bertha! Uhh- Roark - Roark's here by the way, say hi Roark - has a question for you. Something about old dates?" Aaron replied smoothly, before shoving the phone into Roark's hands.

Roark fumbled with the device, gloved hands squeaking on the green and orange case, before he finally got it in an appropriate talking position. "Uhm- Hi Bertha- Yeah uhm... old dates?" he stammered.

"Well, what's the date?" she asked.

Roark rattled off the date from his memory, as his eyes darted around, unable to remain settled. Bertha let out a 'hmm...', clearly in thought. As she waited, Roark's fears grew stronger and stronger, tapping the heel of his boot against the metal of the chair faster and faster. This wasn't good for his psyche at all, he noted. But finally, after what felt like hours of fretting and agonising- "Ah, I remember now! It was around the time the Sinnoh League was being fully established! I doubt you would remember that, you must've been about... 4 I believe? But we - those who wanted to start the league at the time - had to travel to Kanto to discuss what we explicitly wanted. We had to make sure we were set up as an official league, rather than some knock off, you know." she explained.

"So you were in Kanto then?"

"Correct. More specifically, if my memory serves me correctly, that was the final day we were in Kanto. We had gotten the go-ahead for the league, so we were celebrating. Parties, drinks, going out to see the sights, etcetera. Your dad went to this, you know. He was one of the first gym leaders, actually."

Roark's stomach was gone. His anxiety had ripped it up, torn it to shreds. His throat was almost gone. He felt like he was going to collapse in on himself. It was possible. The messages could be true. His father could've actually

"Y-Yeah. I saw this calendar in my dad's storage room so I... Wanted to know what it meant. Thank you." he had no clue how he was able to keep his voice from crumbling to nothing.

"Of course. If that's everything, I'll be taking my leave now." Bertha's voice was cheery, a stark contrast to Roark's failing own.

The rock-type gym leader wordlessly passed the phone back to Aaron, who set into his own goodbyes and farewells to the Ground-Type specialist. He wordlessly picked up his cup of coffee and took a long, hard sip, not caring about the bitter liquid burning his throat. He wanted it to fill the empty hollow in his stomach. He didn't know, and doubted, if it would help. But he wanted it anyway.

For once he didn't jump when he felt a sudden hand on his shoulder, and he looked up at the worried face of Maylene. "Hey, are you alright? You're looking... intense." she asked, the scarf around her neck shifting as she tilted her head.

He wanted to tell her the truth. Desperately, agonisingly. It burned on his tongue like the coffee on his throat. It would be so easy to just let it spill.
But he just couldn't.
"Oh, yeah- Sorry, I'm just tired. I think all the work today has taken a lot out of me. But don't worry, I'm still going to hang around with you guys. I basically just got here, didn't I?" he forced a smile, the lie burning more than the truth.

Maylene smiled back. "Alright then! We're just going to finish up drinks then maybe go bowling or something if you're interested?"

Roark nodded. "Yeah, I'm interested. But just know, I'm definitely going to beat you guys."

"As if!" Aaron cried, smacking his hands on the table, "I'm kicking your ass, and you owe me a drink when I do!"

Roark protested that he agreed to no such thing, and the trio dissolved into jovial squabbles and jokes. The evening slipped into night, the stars in the sky finally showing their faces as the three sped down the streets laughing. Despite all the fun he was having, hanging out with his friends instead of sifting through boxes, or training his pokemon, the thoughts were still there. Whispering at the back of his mind. No matter what he did, no matter how distracting, the thoughts were still there. Mocking him. Leering at him.

His father was a cheater. 

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...Yeah I have no defense for myself as to why this took so long. It's been... what? 6 months or something? Yeah uh- I'm just gonna say a combination of lack of motivation / being really busy.

Yeah. ANYWAY- You ever take so long to update your art style has changed? Speaking of art, fucking HELL was deciding to do CGs every chapter a mistake. Buuut we're sticking with it, so... hopefully all the chapters I've got written so far will be posted soon! I've just got the artwork to do for it and then it can get posted! After that it'll - hopefully - be a month of so of radio silence and then I make my grand return to finish the fanfic.

If you wanna read my other writing in the meantime, check out my reddit account u/LonerEevee and see my r/Nosleep stories! I plan to post them here (and DeviantArt, stay tuned for that) eventually, but for now they're Reddit only! 

To give a bonus for this chapter because I feel bad for so long with no updates... uh....

Here ya go. Bye bye for now! Hopefully I can keep to my schedule qwq