[!] Content Warning [!]

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

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When Roark finally woke up, tangled in his bedsheets, the rotten taste in his mouth matched his mood. The warmth of last night's memories did nothing to help combat the sheer anxiety the new day brought. His father was in bed when he arrived at home, so there were no issues there. But now that he was awake... the thought of even saying good morning to his dad made him want to not get up. But he had a job, so he had to get up.

He got ready at a macargo's pace; he was just glad he'd somehow woken up before his alarm. And yet, he dragged himself through the motions of getting dressed, brushing his hair and teeth, and checking his phone for any updates. He couldn't suppress the smile at Aaron and Maylene's new Instagram posts of the three of them having fun last night, but the drop of joy was short lived. He turned on his heel to one of his clothes drawers and yanked it open, staring blankly at the flip-phone. It sat there, untouched, unmoved. The miner gave a ragged sigh, shutting the drawer. He had to get to work.

He was glad that his father was too wrapped up in responding to emails to give him an engaged conversation, save for the expected 'good morning' and 'have a good day'.

The rest of Roark's day was slower than a shuckle. It was boring, it was unremarkable, it was safe. He was honestly surprised at how well he managed to keep up his regular, chipper, gym leader facade. A wide - but not too wide - smile, being as accommodating and as friendly as he could. His role as a gym leader was so natural to him at this point it was almost like breathing, so he was thankful that he was able to keep up the normalcy. But even then, he couldn't help but notice his flaws. His brain couldn't help but scream and shout at him, pointing them out as an unhelpful distraction from the accursed messages. His battling skills were sloppy. His voice was too strained. His sighs were too forceful. Every mistake he noticed, no matter how miniscule or unimportant, his brain shrieked at him.

On his lunch break he slumped over the sink in the bathroom, knuckles white against the porcelain. Droplets of water dripped down his face, slipping off his nose and chin into the bowl below. His breathing was far too ragged for his liking, his arms noticeably trembling. "...Arceus help me." he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut, all sounds blurring into an unending nothing, saved for his own breathing.
He hated this. How much this was messing with his head. The messages could still be false. Innocent until proven guilty. He knew this. But it got to him, worming its way deeper and deeper inside his head and not letting him go. The image of his father was ruined. Tainted. The man who was so loving to him and everyone else. The man who was one of the best trainers he'd ever known. The man who stepped up to raise him as a single father after his mother-

He slammed his palm against the sink. Pain shot up his arm, but he didn't even care at this point. He knew what he had to do at that moment.
He needed to talk to Byron.

It was late again. The sky was a palette of reds and oranges and yellows, the sun beginning to make its descent below the horizon once again. Roark brushed a loose strand of hair off his face as he stared out his window, watching the Starly flit about. Dark blots against the mass of colours. "...Do you think I can do this Cranidos?" he asked softly.

The fossil pokemon lay curled up on the floor to the side of his bed, and let out of a chirp of what he hoped was agreement. "I mean, it should be easy... right?" he rambled, sinking to his haunches against the windowsill, "I just need to... freaking ask my dad if he cheated on mom! That's totally a conversation you have on a normal day!"

Cranidos chirped again. Roark hung his head in his hands. "I don't... even know what I'm going to do if I'm right. Can I forgive him for doing that? Because of the timing, mom was still...here..." he trailed off, fingers curling around his glasses.

Cranidos yet again chirped, resting its chin on the side of Roark's bed, looking at him with wide, sparkling eyes. Its tongue stuck out between its jaws. Roark quietly laughed, patting the rock type on its head. "Okay, okay. I can do this. Thanks for listening, Cranidos." he whispered.

He slid off the bed, returning Cranidos to its pokeball. In a swift motion he pulled open his drawer, and snatched the phone up. He slipped it into his back pocket. Despite the anxiety crawling up his spine like a spinarak, he knew he had to do this before he chickened out.

He walked down the stairs.

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"Dad, we... Can I talk to you about something?"

Byron looked up from his laptop, hands hovering over the keys. "Hm? What is it?"

Roark hovered in the doorway of the kitchen, hands holding the frame as tight as he dared grip. He didn't want to look scared. "I..." he faltered, "Was thinking about mom and-"

"Hey." Byron's face softened with sympathy as he rose to his feet, chair squealing on the tiles, a noise that made Roark flinch slightly.

"You don't need to feel upset or ashamed about missing her. Of course we miss her." the steel-type specialist smiled, walking over to give Roark a pat on the shoulder.

The younger man looked away, face faltering. "Hey now-" Byron's own face slipped into a frown, and slipped Roark into a hug.

Roark's brain short-circuited. Would this man, would his dad, really cheat on his mother? A man this kind, this considerate? He didn't know, and the corners of his eyes prickled. "Did you never consider... remarrying...?" he finally spluttered out.

Byron pushed his son away by the shoulders, staring at him with widened eyes. "Roark- What kind of question is that?!" he yelped.

"I dunno- People remarry so-"

"Clearly not everyone!"

"I know that but I just-"

"Roark, what in the distortion world would possess you to say something like that? I can't just... move on from your mom."

Roark's heart was threatening to burst from his chest. His mouth was dry. His knees felt weak. But he had to say it, he had to get it off his chest before it destroyed him even more than it already had-

"You cheated on mom. Didn't you?"

He had no idea how he managed to keep his voice so steady.

His father just stared. Eyes wide, like a deerling in the headlights. "Roark, what the fuck." he snapped.
It occurred to Roark at that moment that he'd never heard his father swear. "Where in Arceus' name would you even get the idea that I'd do something like that?! That's ridiculous!" he threw his hands up with a disappointed sigh.

Roark faltered momentarily. His father's voice was so sincere, so genuine. Genuinely offended at an accusation such as that. He almost doubted it in his mind, but no- He had the evidence. He had proof. "I found the phone. In the storage room." he said quietly.

And his father's expression changed from one of surprise to fear. And Roark's heart shattered, thousands of shards falling down and down and down. "I-" Byron began, but Roark cut him off, staring up at the taller man, eyes burning.
"Don't. You can't- You can't! Nothing you say can explain anything! I don't want excuses, I want the truth!" his voice grew ragged, exasperated, "Please."

The steel-type specialist looked down, defeated. He looked smaller, weaker. Not the strong, brave, almost god-like trainer Roark had always viewed him as. He was just a man. "...I think you know the answer, Roark." he said finally.

"Why." his voice grew to a snarling crescendo. "WHY?! How?! You- Who even was she?! The woman you-"

"I don't know. Just someone we... We met at a bar. I was drunk, she was drunk and it just sorta... happened."

"So you didn't stop?! You didn't think to say no?! What is wrong with you!?" Roark's vision blurred, with tears or tunnel vision he didn't know.

He didn't even care. His entire being was nothing but rage, hands balled into fists staring up at the man who he thought he knew. And the man just said nothing. "Defend yourself!" Roark cried, "Just say something! Anything! You can't- 18 years! 18 Damn years you've been hiding this and now that I know the truth you aren't going to defend yourself?! Please!"

He wanted to claw at Byron, grabbing him by the collar to drag him down to his height to wail in his face. He didn't want to touch him, or even look at him. His mind was a maelstrom of conflicting thoughts that burst out of him in tremors and tears. "I was stressed. Things weren't going well at the time, and I just... broke under the pressure. I needed relief and I found it." Roark flinched at how calm his father sounded in that moment.

"That's it!? You were stressed? You just had to help out with setting up the league, how would that've been so stressful that you would-" and then he realised.

He realised the timeline of events, pieced together like an awful puzzle in his mind.
He realised what was happening at the time.

And his father realised he realised too.

"Mom was..." Roark's voice was far too quiet, "Sick then."

He felt like a child at that moment. A child who wanted to cling to his father in the tightest hug a child to give, being told that everything was okay.

But everything was not okay.

"You- Fucking- You cheated on mom because she was sick-" Roark's hand was clamped over his mouth in horror, the sight of his father blurred by the tears streaming down his face. And the blurry figure said nothing.

"You're disgusting." Roark spat, furiously wiping at his eyes to witness the steel-type specialist flinch at his words, and all he could think was 'good'.

"I know." Byron's voice was hollow, the voice of a man utterly defeated, "But Roark, please, if there's any way I can make this up to you-"

"No. No no no no- There's no- No way! No way you can salvage this!" the rock-type gym leader bunched his hair up in his hands, a nervous tick.

But he looked up at Byron again, at the absolute pleading despair on his face. "Did she know." Roark's voice was hard as diamond, "Before mom died, did you tell her."

And his father's silence was telling.

"I can't. I can't! I quite literally cannot fathom anything to say to you anymore!"

"Roark, please, it was a mistake-"

"That doesn't mean it's suddenly not bad! No, I can't- I'm not continuing this conversation." Roark barked out an awkward laugh, shaking his head.

He spun on his heel. He trembled like a leaf in the wind, shoulders heaving. His entire life was crashing down around him and he wasn't filled with despair, just pure unbridled rage. And in that moment, he knew what he had to do. He stalked away from Byron, slipper-clad shoes making soft sounds against the floor. A harsh contrast to the clumping rage within him. "Roark- where are you going-?" Byron's voice was panicked, desperate.

"I'm telling the league about what you did. They need to know." he looked back at him, face blank, the phone in his hand.

His father's face twisted into one of fear.

He barely registered his father lunging at him, grasping desperately at the device in his hands. He slipped to the side, bumping against the doorway with a yelp. "What-?!" the cry escaped his lips.

"Give me the phone Roark! You can't-"

"Are you prioritising your job over the truth!?"

"I need this job! We need the money!"

"And I don't care!"

The rock-type specialist dashed into the hallway, slipper's squealing on the wooden floor, his father hot on his heels. "Give it to me!" he heard him cry, and he could barely snap out his protest.

His free hand hit the door knob, but he shrieked in surprise at the hand around his wrist. Byron dragged him backwards, hoisting him off the floor and swinging him around, grip loosening on the phone. It flung through the air, clattering against the bannister of the stairs. Roark only got a glimpse of the wild terror in his father's eyes as he was suddenly let go, careening down the hallway. His shoulder smacked into the floor and he shrieked in surprise and pain, fresh tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. He pushed himself up, hand curled protectively around his throbbing shoulder as he saw Byron snatch the phone up with feverish intent.

It was only then he realised what he had done to his own son.

The wild look in his eyes vanished, replaced with one of panicked regret. "Roark-" he started.

But Roark didn't stick around to hear the rest. He dashed forward past the taller man, lumbering up the stairs as fast as he could. His breathing grew from an adrenaline-filled ragged to shaky and sob-wracked. He could barely see as he flung open the door to his room, slamming it shut and clicking the lock shut with an air of finality. And he sunk to the floor in front of it, shaking and sobbing, hands over his mouth like a terrified child.

What had Byron done?

What had he done?

He ruined it all, he thought. Ruined the family that had almost crumbled before but had persevered. Because they were strong. Stronger than rock-types. Stronger than steel-types. Strong together.

But had Byron not ruined it himself? Shattered the family to pieces 18 years ago, sticking it together with tape and glue? And Roark had been the one to rip that tape off. Expose the lies, reveal the truth.

Would it not have been better to keep living those lies?

His hands shook as he drew his phone from his pocket.

He could barely punch in the contact number.

Staring at it through misted glasses as it rung once, twice, three times.

A familiar voice, too calm for the situation at hand, cutting through the tension like a knife.

"Hey Roark, what's up?"

"A...Aaron... I... I need your help..."

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Yeah I don't have much to add other than i'm REALLY HAPPY with the CG here! Uh- Sorry this chapter is so dark, I am an Angst Enjoyer. I also don't have anything else to add here, no bonus content, sorry </3 

TYSM for the support i've recieved so far! And also shoutout to my beta reader Jam, hi Jam! You've been such a help I appreciate you sm <3