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Byron was glad that Roark was only two when he split up with his mother. He probably wouldn't remember it and having two houses to go between would become his normal routine, rather than something he'd have to adjust to later on. Would he have preferred to not be separated at all? Sure, but these things happened and it wasn't worth being in an incompatible and unhappy relationship.
Still, it would have been nice to have some support. Being a single dad was hard he'd recently found out. It was especially evident tonight as he stood over the stovetop, stirring a saucepan full of pumpkin soup for the fourth time that week because it was apparently the only thing that Roark wanted to eat right now. He couldn't do it anymore. Eat pumpkin soup, that was, and so a burger and fries were on their way from the closest fast food place available.
Roark's mum had moved to Eterna almost immediately after they separated. She'd always been planning on it, she said, and had wanted to broach the idea with him before they found out she was pregnant. There were more employment options there than in Oreburgh and she'd always wanted to have a corporate career even with kids in the picture, so it was a no brainer really.
But he wanted to stay in Oreburgh, it was better for his career. Weren't any mines in Eterna and the commute was just too long for either of them to compromise. Of course being in their twenties, they hadn't discussed any of this until Roark came along and it wasn't until they had a screaming, adorable but loud baby did they realise just how misaligned their lives were. They'd stuck it out for two years but after many late night discussions and under their breath arguments, she'd packed her things up and left.
Originally they were supposed to look after him a week at a time each, but not long after the move the oh-I-have-to-work-late-tonight's and I-have-to-do-so-much-overtime!'s started cropping up. It dwindled down to staying on the weekends and then just visits on Sundays, and now here he was, a year on and the sole parent of the cutest but still loudest three year old to ever grace Sinnoh's lands.
He'd called his mum earlier, almost in tears from exhaustion but all he'd gotten was a chiding for calling so early. She lived in Hoenn and so the time difference meant that he'd woken her up. Her advice had been to just make the pumpkin soup, he'd grow out of it eventually but at least he was wanting to eat something healthy.
There'd been a big feeling of guilt about the soup up until that point, like he wasn't being a good parent by not hitting all the food groups. Was he getting enough nutrition? He wasn't sure, he'd never had the best diet himself. But when he served up that lukewarm bowl of bright orange puree and his son's face lit up, he knew he was doing something right.
–
Roark was five when the previous Oreburgh gym leader handed in her resignation, Byron was thirty maybe. It was just easier to count things in Roark's age than it was his own at this point. He was the same each year whereas every day was different for his son. Each morning he'd be a little taller and a little more talkative and so milestones in both of their lives were more easily remembered if he used Roark's age.
"Huh," He said as the local news blared her official announcement. He was making porridge, Roark's new favourite food and they had the tv on in the background. It was a good meal, it meant he had a full stomach before heading off to kindergarten. "Wonder why she quit."
"Who?" The small voice chirped up. He'd been playing with his spoon previously, waiting impatiently for his breakfast but the chattering voices of the news anchors had distracted him.
"The gym leader," He replied, ladelling a large scoop of oats into a bowl. Roark's head tilted to the side, the title clearly meaning absolutely nothing to him and so he continued, "She's the strongest pokemon trainer in this town. Other trainers battle against her to try and win a badge to also prove that they're strong but now they'll need to find someone to replace her."
Roark's mouth formed a small o as he listened and then in true five year old form, realised that his food was in front of him and lost complete interest in the conversation. Byron served his own up and joined his son at the table, absentmindedly watching the rest of the announcement. Their voices were too loud and energetic and he was too tired.
They'd be putting up the job listeing starting tomorrow and all prospective applicants would have to prove they'd won at least two gym badges, they said. The shortlisted applicants would battle each other tournament style and the winners of those battles would have to fight against the existing gym leaders and win at least four matches. And then after a final interview they'd decide on who would take the mantle. The process was too exhausting for him, but there were definitely a few of the younger guys he worked with in the mines that would be jumping at the opportunity.
"You should replace her dad."
He looked back towards his child who's face was so earnest that for a brief moment he really did believe he could. "I already have a job down in the mines, Roarkie."
"You can mine on weekends," He continued. "You are the strongest trainer I've ever met and all my friends think so too. Bastiodon goes raaaah raah and beats everything it fights. Remember when you battled your friend from work and you beat all his pokemon?"
Heh, he did remember that. The guy was a colleague from the mines but also a rival dad at Roark's school and so he'd had a lot to prove, both to his son and the other parents. He'd always enjoyed battling, had even taken on the gym challenge when he was younger and childfree. He'd won a solid seven out of eight badges too, only being bested multiple times by Veilstone gym before giving up. That was all in the past now though and he was out of practice.
"I have you to look after now, boy," He grinned, sweeping up the now-empty dishes and dumping them in the sink. Tonight's problem. "But speaking of you, we have to get you to school."
"Awww no, but I want to pokemon battle!"
That evening when Roark was fast asleep, tucked under his cranidos patterned bedspread, Byron pulled out the small box he kept shoved up the top of his closet. It was a made from cardboard and had seen better days, having moved several times with him throughout his young adulthood. The contents inside were a little dusty speaking to their usage and he had to fight off a sneeze when he started pulling things out.
On the top there were the first seals he'd had on Bastiodon's pokeball, the backs having lost all their stickiness from years of being stashed away. They were confetti seals that he'd used for years until he'd made the switch to smoke seals which he still used to this day. Way less garish and much more in theme with his steel types.
Underneath was a photo and judging by the background of endless skyscrapers, it looked like it was taken in Jubilife. It was a much younger, shorter and slimmer him with his arm slung around the shoulders of a guy with red hair, both of their faces grinning madly. He didn't remember who took the photo but he certainly remembered Perry. He had been his first relationship after all, and although fleeting (only having lasted the duration of the Jubilife and Canalave leg of the gym circuit) it had been a nice time.
He shook his head and put the photo back into the box, he wasn't here to reminisce. Continuing his search through his box from the beforetimes, he finally found what he was looking for. His badge case, scuffed from being shoved in a storage box and seven dull gym badges from thirteen years ago.
–
There was much more to being a gym leader than he'd realised. Naively he'd thought that all he'd have to do was fight the challengers that came to the gym, but in actual fact he also had to mentor all the trainers under his employ, complete administrative tasks and just overall be the face of Oreburgh. He did maintain his position down in the mines too, albeit just two days a week, just like Roark had suggested. So between that, the full time gym leader gig and parenting, he was left with very little time for much else.
Each day he found himself ordering food in for lunch and oftentimes dinner too, only prepping meals for his son instead of himself so that they would last longer. Without the same level of physical activity he'd gotten from the mines and the general slowing of metabolism with age, well that meant he was carrying more weight than he was used to.
Roark was ten now and a handful, but not in the way Byron had expected. He himself was loud and gruff (according to his gym trainers) and so was Roark's mum (just minus the gruff part), but Roark was quiet and gentle. He didn't fight with other kids and seemed to get along well with adults too, but he was stubborn. There was no way for Byron to get him to do any schoolwork, all he wanted to do was look for fossils in the mines.
Look, he got it. He loved being down there too. Besides the day that his stubborn son was born, digging on Iron Island was the best time of his life. But he had been eighteen then and Roark was ten and had school to go to.
He'd finally been feeling like he'd got the hang of this whole single parenting thing up until this point. When he spoke to his mum this time, she just laughed and said that she hoped he wasn't overworking himself. Oh and she commented on the dark circles beneath his eyes too, but that felt more like a jab than real concern (and he was reminded that at times that he was grateful she lived in Hoenn).
In the end they compromised. No mucking around in the mines during the week – that went for the both of them – but on the weekends they could do whatever they liked. All the miners knew Roark anyway and they looked after him if Byron ever had urgent gym business crop up.
They let him mess around with their pokemon and taught him the process of mining coal and how it was used for powering the city. When he'd get home, he'd babble using words he couldn't pronounce and explaining concepts he didn't quite get to his dad, and Byron would nod along pretending he hadn't been working down there for fifteen years.
But anyway he'd brought them up because it was actually one of the miners that alerted him to the fact that his child might need to get his eyes tested.
"He struggled to read the directional sign halfway down," She explained over coffee one Saturday morning. "I'm just worried that he might get lost down there just because he can't see things in the distance."
You better believe that he kicked up a fuss when the optometrist in Jubilife told them he'd have to wear glasses full time. He sat, arms crossed and specs gripped in one hand in the front seat, scowling at the skyscrapers as they flew by outside their car window.
The entire situation had wracked Byron with even more parental guilt than usual – had he been irresponsible taking him into the mines when he was young? The dim lighting down there had probably caused this short-sightedness. Realistically he knew that probably wasn't the case, but it still gnawed away at in his stomach until he felt like the worst dad ever.
"No other kids in my class wear glasses." He mumbled.
"I didn't spend two hundred dollars for you not to wear them," He grunted back, exhausted and not wanting to argue with this moody preteen. "And besides, the foreman says you're not allowed down in the mines without them."
He did wear them in the end, but only on weekends. If that's all he could get him to do for now, it was at least better than not at all.
–
Every four years the Sinnoh League hosted a gala in Hearthome for all the gym leaders as well as other trainers of note throughout the region. It was the first time he'd been to anything so fancy and he had to say, as he stood trying to fasten his tie in the mirror he felt like the biggest impostor. He didn't belong in here, that it to say chatting it up over canapes and flutes of bubbles from Kalos.
He'd brought Roark along with him and he was going to hang out in the Kids Club in the hotel for the evening. He would have asked someone to babysit but all of his friends were going to be at the event so they were out. And he couldn't ask mum to come across to Sinnoh just for one night, could he? Didn't want that hanging over his head for the next four years. It gave him a good out anyway, meant he didn't have to stay too late.
"The blue tie looks better than the orange one." The words floated through the room and Byron looked through the mirror to discover his partner-in-crime's head poking through the doorway, watching him struggle.
"You chose well, my boy," He laughed, thumb fumbling with the knot and accidentally unravelling the whole thing. "Can I count on you to be my chief colour picker from now on?"
A big grin spread across his face and he puffed his chest out. "Yes! Always yellow or blue though. Blue is like a rampardos, yellow is like your Bastiodon!" And then just as quickly as he'd appeared, he disappeared back to where he'd been watching a program on fossils that was way too advanced for his age.
If he'd felt like an impostor staring at himself in his suit, it was nothing compared to actually being at the gala. He felt like everyone could see the dirt on his hands despite them being thoroughly scrubbed, he just knew they thought he'd come straight from the underground. Which, funnily enough, was where he desperately wanted to be.
He gripped onto his champagne flute for dear life as he searched the crowds for familiar faces, as if it was the only thing that anchored him to this plane of existence. Eventually he found coworkers who introduced him to their partners and he showed them photos of Roark.
Halfway through the evening he felt a soft tap on his arm and found Cynthia waiting there, looking incredibly glamorous with a flute in hand. He hadn't thought she'd be one for dressing up like this, but then again he should have cottoned on from her entirely impractical regular attire.
"Hi Byron," She said. "How are you?"
"Fine," Her face faltered, concerned he wasn't enjoying himself and so he tacked on, "Nah I'm good really, just tired."
She nodded, gentle eyes assessing the circles under his. She was so kind, Sinnoh was lucky to have such a good person at the helm of their League – particularly when compared to stories he heard from other regions. "You don't have to stay, but I'm glad that you came down for a little while. Before you do go though, I need to chat to you about something."
He excused himself from the conversation he'd been having with Lucian and followed her to a quieter corner of the ballroom. He was too weary to even be concerned about why he was being singled out.
"I hate to have to have this conversation at a party, but I'm going on leave tomorrow so it's the only chance I'll get," She said, sipping her drink. "The Canalave leader's contract is coming to an end and we probably aren't going to renew it."
"Oh, what happened?" He thought the gym had been going well, certainly seemed that way from their quarterly meetings anyway.
"A lot of it is confidential, but I'll fill you in with what I can when I get back. Anyway, we want to offer you the position, the team could benefit from some strong leadership. The League will pay your relocation costs and offer you a better remuneration package than what you're currently on."
Right, well her certainly hadn't expected that. "Can I think about it and let you know when you're back at work?"
"Of course," She smiled and held up her almost-empty glass for a cheers. "Now go home and get some sleep."
–
He didn't end up taking the position, Roark was just moving into high school so it wasn't the right time. But when they asked him again four years later with an even better remuneration package, he started to consider it. The change could be a good thing, could give the media something new to talk about rather than just his climbing scale.
He saw the comments online and in those trashy tabloids the newsagency opposite his soon-to-be old gym sold. People speculated all sorts of things about him and his health, oftentimes with choice words that were intended to sting. Sometimes they did but mostly he didn't care, it was more Roark he was worried about. He was fourteen now and discovering social media.
The truth was that he'd just fallen into bad habits over the years, he'd been so focused on looking after his son that his own self had taken a backseat. He'd quit his job at the mines a few months ago – due to a lack of energy and not in preparation for the move to Canalave, but it had been good timing – so he had more time now. That could wait until he actually moved though, no point in trying to change things up and adding more stress again.
So until then, he thought as he brought the wine glass up to swig, old habits die hard.
Wake watched him with an amused grin. He was almost unrecognisable without his mask and with a shirt on that Byron was sure the tabloids would think he was having drinks with an old mate and not a coworker. "I've always envied your ability to chuck 'em back like that. Bet you were great at drinking games back in the day."
"I've won a match or two of beer pong," He said. "But hey, next round is on you." With a roll of his eyes, Wake stood up and headed to the bar.
He'd come to Pastoria for after work drinks with Wake and Fantina, although the latter wasn't here yet. It was a trek but Wake had offered for him to crash on his couch for the night. Roark was staying with his great-uncle in Eterna for the weekend and it was his first child free night in a long time, so he wanted to make the most of it. So far they had, if the six empty wine glasses on the table were any indicator.
They hung out like this as often as their schedules would allow, Byron usually being the one who was hardest to pin down. Being around the same age as well as similarities in other aspects of their lives meant that he considered them his closest friends in the League, even if their gyms weren't the closest physically. It was nice to have people he didn't have to be a beer drinking bloke with, everyone in the mines just wanted to hit up the Oreburgh Tavern for a pint.
Wake returned, placing the glasses down with too much accidental force so they tops sloshed over onto the table. He mumbled a whoops before sitting down and continuing, "So Canalave, huh? You know when they transfer you instead of hiring someone external that's usually a pretty good sign they like your work."
"Hmm, maybe. Cynthia did mention that the first time."
"There's no doubt. You're on a what, twenty-two win streak now? The highest I've ever hit is eighteen."
"I guess so," He shrugged. "I don't mind moving, spent a lot of time there when I was younger. Roark doesn't want to go though, so I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't want to tear him away from his home, you know?"
"Tear who away?" A third, higher-pitched voice floated through their tipsy conversation and they both looked up to find that familiar purple hair eyeing off their now-eight glasses of shiraz. Said purple hair was not so immaculately styled like it usually was, perhaps also in an attempt to not be recognised.
"By is concerned Roark won't want to move to Canalave with 'im."
"Oh yes, the transfer," Fantina replied. "I'll just go get myself a drink and then we can talk. Also, eight glasses so far? Mon dieu, slow down or you'll both end up with awful headaches." The pub was quiet this evening – thank Arceus – so she was back quickly, double-handing glasses of champagne. No prosecco, she always said, it's not worth drinking if it's not from the Champagne region in Kalos.
"We need to slow down?" Byron raised an eyebrow.
"I have to catch up," She winked. "Are you going to take it? It might be nice to be somewhere new and meet some new people. I'd love that opportunity, Hearthome is great but I've been there forever now."
"I hear that, I swear I've been on a date with every eligible bachelor or bachelorette in this damn town over the years." Wake added and Fantina nodded very much in agreement. He had to laugh, their escapades providing many an entertaining story over the years.
"I'm happy to move," He said. "But Roark doesn't want to and I don't know what to do."
Fantina hmm'd quietly, face thoughtful as she took a sip. "Can you talk to him? I'm sure he'll understand if you let him know about the opportunity and potential new adventures."
Look, they were good friends but neither of them had children, let alone a teenager who's favourite hobby was arguing with their dad. If it was that easy, he wouldn't be having this conversation.
"He won't see it like that, he'll get annoyed that I'm taking him away from his school friends and the mines. The last thing I want is for him to retreat into his room and not speak to me, which he probably will do anyway because he's so moody at the moment."
Wake frowned. "You're the parent and so you do get the final say, but I know that you'll make the right decision for the both of ya. You're a good dad, By."
Byron felt a lump rise in this throat and he stared down into his wine glass, his own tired eyes looking back at him. When had he gotten this sensitive that being called a good dad made him all emotional? He'd never been sure he'd been doing it right all these years, still wasn't sure but it was nice to hear it.
"But anyway!" A large hand on his back shook him out of his daze and he met the eyes of his friends again. "Tonight isn't about making difficult decisions. Perhaps bad decisions in regards to the amount of wine drunk, but not difficult ones. Let's do karaoke, they're starting it at eight."
"Absolutely not, but I will watch you and Fantina sing sea shanties up there."
"Ah mais oui," She laughed, yanking Wake's arm so he was standing. "Let's put on a Master level showing for our biggest fan here." And so he shoved his worries to the back of his mind for the night, letting their out of key wailing and wine take him back to being a younger man.
–
"I don't want to move."
"Roark, it's a great opportunity for the both of us. See another part of Sinnoh together, spend some time by the coast. Iron Island is only an hour boat ride away and you loved our trips there when you were younger."
"Yeah but it's not Oreburgh mine and I'll have no friends and it'll be stupid." He'd been sitting at the table, polishing a small rock he'd found on the weekend. Byron had given up getting him to do it outside long ago and there were little scuffs on the table from various stones and fossils over the years.
He'd stood up as soon as he'd started speaking though and had his arms crossed, staring down his dad with his near-identical-to-his-own eyes. They weren't quite the same height yet, but Byron had no doubt he'd be there soon enough.
"Roark..." He said with a short, sharp huff. "Look, let's go to that Unovan restaurant you like for dinner and chat about it there, okay?"
His son stared at him for a moment longer, mulling over the suggestion. He then flopped down back at the table and refocused his attention to the rock, and muttered, "Fine."
In the end Roark stayed in Oreburgh. He'd seen enough movies to know that forcing a teenager to do something they didn't want to do would just cause resentment and subsequent frustration on his end. Besides, he remembered what it was like to be that age. Teenagers could be mean, especially to the new kid and he didn't want Roark to have to go through that.
His current school had boarding facilities so he moved into those and would come up to visit when he got the chance. He'd promised he'd come to Canalave at least once a month, but he was in his final two years of his studies and so Byron wondered if he'd really have that much time to spare. He too said he'd come to visit Oreburgh as soon as everything had settled and the transition period was over for the new gym.
But speaking of the new gym, it was tall. Really tall. And had a lot of stairs. Now that he was forty, his knees weren't what they used to be and just looking at them from the entrance was enough to make him wince in pain. That would have to change.
"Elevators," He said during the remodelling meeting. "Just like fifty elevators."
–
Byron didn't think he'd notice the quiet in his new apartment as much as he did. He thought he'd appreciate everything staying exactly where he left it and getting to watch whatever he wanted after work. He didn't think he'd miss that chattering as soon as he stepped in the door, talking at him about the intricacies of high school social circles interspersed with exaggerated stories of fossils found in the mine.
But he did notice the quiet and did miss the chattering. This new position was definitely a promotion even if they hadn't said it was, but he couldn't stop the nagging feeling in the back of his mind that said he'd abandoned his son for work. He'd done the exact same thing Roark's mother had and that didn't make him feel good.
–
Stepping off the ferry and onto Iron Island was like going back in time. The harsh wind felt so familiar against his rough skin and even Bastiodon who had been but a shieldon when here last seemed to recognise the area.
The mine had seen better days, that's for sure. The wooden beams supporting the entrance had started to splinter and looked dangerously close to caving in and the rockface on the outside was crumbling and battered from years of wild weather. The cabin near the entrance which had once been accomodation for the miners was boarded up, the blue paint on the weatherboard faded and peeling. He chuckled humourlessly at the sight, feeling much the same.
He hitched his pickaxe up over his shoulder and headed in. He only planned on going in a little ways, didn't really have the energy for more than an hour or so of digging. Bastiodon didn't get much chance to run around in Canalave though and so he'd stay as long as his pokemon needed even if he ended up sitting down and watching.
He let him out of his pokeball as soon as he stepped into the cave and he'd gone running off immediately, disappearing around a corner. Byron kept an ear out for the pitter patter of one-hundred kilo feet amongst the noise of zubat chirping and was trying his best to follow them when they came to an abrupt stop. He paused, feeling his heart jump up to his throat. He'd foolishly only brought Bastiodon with him, assuming they'd be the only ones in the mines.
"...llo buddy..." A soft voice floated through the tunnels, not too far away but distant enough that he couldn't see the owner. "Yes that's m...cario, you can play toget..." The words were disjointed, not all of them making it around the corners. They sounded friendly but he followed them cautiously, mines could be dangerous places after all.
He had to squint to see the figure in the distance – perhaps this is where Roark's eyesight had come from – but soon enough they came into focus. It was another man, similar height and perhaps similar age, he couldn't tell. Unusually though, he had a hat on and Byron had to fight the urge to tell him that widebrim hats weren't sufficient in protecting your head in the mines (not that his unprotected head could talk).
His blazer, turtle neck and gold chain seemed out of place amongst the crumbling rocks but he seemed quite comfortable leaning down and speaking to Bastiodon. Somehow he seemed more than home than Byron did, and he'd spent the majority of his life in and around mines. Next to him was a lucario who looked quite huffy that his trainer was paying attention to someone else's pokemon.
His own heavy footfalls must have alerted the stranger to his presence and he looked up, equally as surprised to have company. It only lasted a moment though and he quickly replaced it with a polite smile.
"Is this guy yours?"
"Yeah," He mumbled. "Sorry, didn't realise someone else'd be in here today."
"Neither did we," He replied. "Feel free to go about your business, we're just going to be doing some training around the area."
"Likewise."
Having his trainer now preoccupied by something else, the lucario had started scoping Bastiodon out. Bastiodon was generally friendly by nature and nudged the lucario to let him know he was down to muck around together. That seemed to be all that was needed and they started running off around the larger cave area they were currently situated in, no longer interested in their trainers.
"Guess we'll be here for a while," Byron said, shrugging his pickaxe off his shoulder. Might as well dig here. "You can leave if you want, but Bastiodon likes to socialise. He's good, won't hurt smaller pokemon."
"It's okay, it'll do Lucario some good to interact with someone that isn't me." He laughed a little louder than the volume of the rest of the conversation, the sound bouncing off the cavern walls. He didn't seem to notice though.
Byron laid the rest of his tools down at his feet and started prepping his pickaxe for work. It was a little awkward with someone else around, but he hadn't had the energy nor motivation to dig recently and he didn't want to waste the opportunity. When he realised the other man was watching, he said, "I'm just going to...I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all, we are in a mine after all. I'm Riley, by the way."
"Byron."
"Nice to meet you, Byron."
He hadn't been in a particularly talkative mood since the move to Canalave a month ago. There had been a heavy feeling of just wanting to go home and collapse after the long days at work and today had been the first day he'd made himself go out and do something. He chalked it up to years of exhaustion finally catching up to him and now that he lived alone in a too quiet house he was able to actually start paying off that sleep debt. Oh and you know, that aforementioned guilt.
But Riley was apparently A) a chatty person and B) oblivious to other people's moods because he kept the conversation going. He spoke about how even though he came to Iron Island frequently he'd never tried mining and asked Byron about what exactly he was doing.
He'd decided upon first seeing Riley that he wouldn't be interested in conversation, but the man had a gentle yet genuine interest in mining that he found himself answering even though he didn't want to. It had been a long time since he'd spoken to someone that wasn't either his child or a workmate and it felt unusual.
Riley walked out with him when he left three hours later, having accidentally stayed longer than intended. The sea breeze was stronger and colder now and he thought that maybe Riley wasn't amiss in bringing that blazer with him after all.
"Aren't you leaving now too?" He asked when Riley didn't make a move to board the ferry.
"No, I think we'll stay for a bit longer. I don't have anywhere to be later today."
"Right, well you didn't have to walk out with me. I know my way around the caves, you know." Goodbyes were always uncomfortable, especially with an impatient captain watching and he wished Riley had just stayed back inside.
"I could tell that," He laughed too-loudly again. "It did me some good to interact with someone that wasn't Lucario."
Having waited long enough, the captian pulled on the horn of the ferry and made them both jump. With an awkward wave, he trudged inside the boat and watched as Iron Island become a dreary speck on the horizon.
–
Normally Byron bought his battle items from the League's suppliers, they had a partnership with the manufacturers and got them on the cheap as long as they bought more than ten items. But with all the chaos of moving and Roark having just visited he'd forgotten to put in an order and had used his last potion this afternoon. So instead of heading straight home after work, he'd had to make a detour to the local mart to stock up. They cost ten percent more and while he wanted to be annoyed, it was his own fault.
It was nice to have had his boy up on the weekend. Hearing stories from the dorms had helped reassure him that things were fine and that he hadn't made the wrong decision. He'd be off on his gym challenge in two years anyway, so this bit of independence was good for him. Still, the fact that his kid was old enough now that he didn't need need him so much made his heart ache a little and he wouldn't have minded if he'd changed his mind and wanted to move up to Canalave.
"Byron." His name was said softly but there were no other customers that he heard it loud and clear. Looking away from the shelf, he saw...Riley? The hat – which he wore inside for some reason? – was a dead giveaway and despite having only met him once, seeing him not in the context of Iron Island was surprising.
"Ah, hey Riley," He replied. "How are ya?"
"I'm doing well, how about you? You look frazzled."
"Am fine, ran out of potions though and I don't like paying retail price," Riley's eyebrows twitched as if he didn't quite understand. "Look I want to apologise for my behaviour on Iron Island. I wasn't feeling great that day and didn't expect to run into someone."
A smile. "You're fine, I shouldn't have pushed conversation on you," And then, not learning at all from the words that had just left his lips, said, "Hey, have you tried that cafe across from here? I heard some ladies saying it was good and was about to try it."
"Yeah, I usually get my morning coffee and breakfast there on the way to work. I rate it." He'd grabbed a handful of potions and was loading them up on the counter for the cashier to scan. He winced as the total came up, he was damn grateful for that remuneration package now.
"Want to come with and show me what to order? My shout."
"It's okay, I can afford to pay for myself. Thank you for that, enjoy your night." He nodded to the clerk and grabbed the bag. She waved to them on their way out, quite stunned that she'd just served a gym leader.
"I know you can but I'd still like to shout you."
The Stinging Tentacool was a local favourite, popular amongst the sailors that docked in from other regions as well as the local surfers that trudged sand along the tiles after a long day on the coast. It was also frequented by the town's gym leader who was embarrassed to realise that he just admitted he had a muffin for breakfast every day when Riley noticed it was the only food on the menu. Those healthy habits haven't kicked in yet, he thought as he caught his reflection in the window.
The tables were all donated from Canalave residents when the cafe had announced they were planning to open and thus were all mismatched, giving the place an eclectic feel. Or so he'd heard anyway, it was open long before his arrival. They sat at a round one by the window, the top covered in tessellated terracotta tiles. A small wad of folded up paper had been shoved under the foot to stop it from wobbling. The local paper was for sale at the counter for a dollar and Riley grabbed a copy as they walked through.
"It's never particularly interesting," Byron remarked, eyes scanning the front page article about the grand opening of a new restaurant down by the port. A few of the older residents were in a huff about the "commercialisation" of the city but he thought it was a good idea. "Although they put me on the front cover last issue. Used a very unflattering photo too."
"Oh?" Riley looked up from the page. "What for?"
"My transfer here."
"Transfer to what?" He was so genuinely confused that he resembled a psyduck and Byron had to stifle a laugh.
"The gym leader position, transferred here just over a month ago. Was the Oreburgh leader for ten years before that." He knew he looked different to when he first started but he didn't think he was that unrecognisable.
Riley's eyes widened and he dropped the paper in favour of placing his fingers on his temples. "Are you telling me I just invited a gym leader to have coffee with me? Arceus, you must have been heading home from work too. I'm so sorry, I don't keep up with the battling community."
"Don't apologise, it'll do me good to interact with someone that isn't in my employ," He chuckled and even through his panic Riley smiled at his own words being used against him. "Now let me show you what to order."
Riley had complicated coffee tastes and ordered something with whipped cream and caramel sauce that seemed oddly fitting. He just had his with no milk, a habit formed from trying to make the most no-fuss caffeinated drink with what little time he'd had back when Roark was younger. They often said people would start to look like their pokemon eventually, but he wondered if the same was true for coffee orders. He was so plain.
"So, thoughts on Canalave?"
"Like the proximity to Iron Island," He shrugged. "Spent a lot of time there in my youth when it was still an active site. Took my son there a few times too, glad they kept it open for people to train in. You local to here?"
"Sort of, I have a house but I travel a lot. Let's just dial it back for a second though, you have a son?" He wasn't sure why he found it so amusing that Riley was so surprised about all these things, it wasn't as if they were old friends.
"Yeah, he didn't want to move to Canalave though so he still lives in Oreburgh. He came up to visit last weekend and I was hoping he'd like it enough to make the move but it seems like that wasn't meant to be. It makes sense, given his age and all." He felt his throat tighten as the conversation shifted towards Roark and he hoped that Riley didn't notice.
"How old is he?"
"Fourteen. His mother is a high-flying executive in Eterna so he's in boarding school. Wants to be a trainer when he's older or work with fossils, he hasn't decided yet." It had been the topic of conversation this entire weekend, Roark dramatising everything as if the world would end if he didn't decide right then and there. It had been very entertaining but he'd had to pretend to take it all very seriously.
"Fourteen? There is no way you are old enough to have a fourteen year old son."
"You flatter me Riley, but I know I look like I'm forty. You are the one who's age I can't work out."
"Thirty-nine, but don't tell anyone. I'm a big proponent for sunscreen."
Could he be real for a second? Hearing that didn't make him feel great about himself, especially compared to this similarly aged man seated in front of him who clearly took good care of himself. He'd never be as sharp a dresser as him, but he could stand to be a little neater, a little fitter, a little better. He'd used being a single parent as an excuse for a long time but that was gone now. He didn't live with his boy anymore, a fact that made him a little teary if he thought about it too much.
When they finally left the cafe, it was close to seven and the sun was all but a sliver across the harbour. A chill had set in – as it usually did when on the coast – and while he felt okay, Riley's soft face was set in a hard expression. He wasn't a fan of the cold, he noted.
"Thanks for hanging around to chat." He paused for a moment, as if waiting for something. But when nothing happened, he nodded a quick goodbye and hurriedly shuffled off in the opposite direction to Byron, arms bringing his jacket tight around his chest. Byron watched him retreat until he disappeared behind a building completely, taking with him the rest of the day's light.
––
Riley had been on his mind since coffee, coupled with a sudden motivation to go for a walk. He waited until it was dark before setting out, embarrassed by his pace and not wanting to risk running into his gym trainers who were all much younger and fitter than him. It had been a long time before he'd done any purposeful exercise, fourteen years actually.
He wondered if he'd bump into him again. The wondering was actually hoping, but those feelings were dusty and he wasn't quite ready to take them out from the back of the shed yet, and so he insisted to himself it was just wonder. He'd made a new friend, is all (and he also wondered if Riley had enjoyed his company too or if he was being too presumptuous).
Although it didn't stop him purposefully taking a detour home past the local mart, or making coffee at home so he could stop into the cafe in the evenings. It was just a change in routine, he said, wanted to see more of the city. Plus it was good to get the extra steps in.
But anyway, exercising was harder than he remembered and he didn't get nearly as far as he would have liked in the hour he was out. It was frustrating and by the end he was exhausted, but the next week he felt a little less tired. A month on he started walking straight after work instead, before the sun had even set.
–
It had been a slow day at the gym, there was only one challenger who hadn't made it past his first trainer and so he'd spent the day doing paperwork. One of his top team members had put in for a month's leave to go challenge the Battle Frontier, so he was trying to process that and see who could step up to fill the spot while she was away.
"Knock knock," It was said out loud and he spun his office chair around to see Clyde standing in the door. "Sorry to interrupt, I know you've got a lot of work to do but there's someone asking at reception for you."
He sighed and stood up, following Clyde out of his office. It was probably some hopefully trainer wanting to come and apprentice at the gym. They came all the time, waving resumes with various tournaments they'd placed in around and asking to battle. Usually Clyde would be able to sort them out but on occasion there would be one who was very insistent on talking to him directly.
"Hey By." He noticed the hat before he even heard the words and the disappointment he didn't realise he'd been holding in for weeks was suddenly washed away by a tsunami of relief. He kept his jaw set, knowing that if he relaxed for even a second it would all be over.
"Friend of yours?" Clyde asked.
"Yeah, this is Riley..." It was enough to satiate Clyde's curiosity and he returned to the reception desk, no longer interested. Watching that for a moment, he turned his attention back to Riley. "What's up? Are you here to hand in your CV?"
"I'm guessing that happens often? But no, I actually came to ask if you were free this evening. It's been a rough day and I feel like I need a drink. There's this bar across the bridge I've heard is good but I don't want to go alone."
"Are you sure you live in Canalave? I've been here two months and I seem to know the place better than you," He chuckled and Riley joined in, his too-loud laugh matching Byron's mood. "Sure. I finish work at five, can meet you there afterwards."
–
Byron was annoyed at himself for being so stressed out over drinks with a friend. He was annoyed that his only nice shirt – a collared one with a shieldon pattern on the pocket bought for some school performance of Roark's – didn't fit properly despite the recent exercise, and he was annoyed that that small setback almost made him cancel the whole thing. In the end he wore a t-shirt underneath, but it wasn't how he'd envisioned himself looking.
It was just a catch up, not a friggin' date he had to keep telling himself with a forced laugh, and that there was absolutely no pressure besides the immense one he was putting on himself.
The bar was an unassuming bricked building two blocks down from his gym and was only distinguishable by the small sign above the doorway. He'd walked past it every day to get back to his car and had always figured it was some run-down offices for a law firm or accounting agency. During the day the windows were tinted so he couldn't see in, but now in the early evening warm light shone through illuminating the many bottles of spirits stacked behind the counter.
A little bell rung as he pushed the door opening, signalling to the bartender and the buneary sitting on his shoulder that someone had arrived. It was still early and so the only other patrons were a young couple canoodling in the corner and Riley who was sitting with his hands folded under his chin at a table near the window. Byron had to blink a few times to make sure he was seeing things right, he had no hat on.
His companion for this evening looked a little surprised when he slid awkwardly into the empty chair, but quickly caught himself and smiled. "Hope you're happy with this table?"
"Yeah it's alright," He answered. "What was that about, huh?"
"Oh you did notice," He said and then continued, markedly quieter, "Had a sudden feeling you weren't going to show. I thought I might have been too forward considering we don't really know each other."
Just drinks with a friend.
"Isn't this how people get to know each other?" The words seemed to relax Riley and he picked up the drinks menu. "My shout this round considering you bought the coffee."
He wasn't sure what to order. The obvious choice would be a pint, beer was safe and it would match his image. But there was an ease when speaking with Riley that he thought he might feel comfortable enough to order wine. Wine was too intimate though, wasn't it? Didn't want to give the wrong impression. Was he overthinking things?
"I'll just have the riesling, but can you ask them to put ice in it?"
"Gahaha, you like sweet things."
"You know what, I guess I do. I've never really thought about it."
Byron hopped up, taking a menu with him so that he didn't forget what Riley wanted. He wasn't a white drinker, only red. Couldn't tell an SSB apart from a riesling if his life depended on it, but he was sure that there was a big and important difference and he didn't want to risk that mistake.
The bartender bailed him up in dreary conversation about possible job openings in the gym while he poured the drinks, holding him up for much longer than needed. He mouthed an oh my arceus on his way back and Riley's shoulders shook as he held in his too-loud laugh.
"I didn't think you'd be joining me in wine." Riley said when he finally made it back after the long arduous journey.
"You assumed I'd be ordering beer?"
"Well–"
"It's okay, everyone does."
He hmm'd but the dim lighting wasn't enough to completely hide his embarrassed cheeks. "I think I owe you an apology this time. I wasn't intending to be a stranger for a whole month, but I had to go all the way across to the Battle Frontier for this competition that I completely forgot about."
The words provided a validation he didn't realise he'd needed, his unreasonable feelings of rejection gone as if they'd never even been there. "Ya don't have to say sorry for that, it's not like we had plans you bailed on."
"Yes, but even still. I had been intending on trying to make plans."
"Well," He grunted, staring down into his glass. "I'm glad you want to spend time with big ol' me, although I can't imagine why." They cheers'd and Riley jumped into conversation about the tournament he'd been competing in. Turned out he was a halfway decent trainer, would probably make for a good gym leader if the position were to ever come up.
Two drinks later and he'd opened up about the adventures of parenting...again. As the words tumbled out – like they had a mind of their own – he internally cursed himself for being so boring. Conversation always drifted this way, but he had nothing else to talk about. Gym leadering and being a dad were the only two things he did with his time.
As they spoke, his mind drifted to Roark and he wondered what he was doing tonight. Hopefully nothing that would get him in too much trouble with school (a little trouble was okay). He made a mental note to check on him tomorrow, make sure everything was still alright back home. Home. Oreburgh would always be home, wouldn't it? It had always felt that way back when he was travelling, and even now he didn't feel quite as settled in Canalave as he did there. How had he gotten on that train of thought? Must have been the wine. But yeah, he hoped Roark was okay.
"I just feel like a bad parent." He said with his mind-of-their-own words.
Riley, who evidently was not expecting the conversation to go this way tilted his head to the side in concern. "Why's that?"
"I keep thinking I've left him behind and I don't want him to feel that."
Riley instinctively reached forward to reassure him, but paused before placing his hand down. Byron nodded, letting him know that it was okay, and he lowered it onto his arm. "From what you've said previously he doesn't seem to think that way. And I know that I don't know what it's like to be a parent, so I'm not sure how much stock my opinion holds, but you obviously care a whole lot and he'd know that."
He shook his head, more as a way to stop himself dwelling on things and ruining the mood. He didn't want to bore Riley and lose the first potential friend(?) he'd made in years. "Lemme tell ya, being a single parent is the hardest thing in the world, there's no time for anything. You're the first non-work person I've met in a decade I reckon."
"That's just being an adult." Riley laughed, the too-loudness returning. Byron wondered if he was aware of it, at first it had been amusing but now he'd call it endearing.
"Too right," He nodded. "How does one even make friends, let alone meet people to date?"
"Like this?"
A sudden hush came over the bar (or so it felt like) and suddenly all Byron could focus on was the fact that both his stomach and his heart were now firmly lodged in his throat. He wanted to believe that Riley was responding to the date part, but he was probably meaning the friend part. Or just as likely, he was some non-fan trying to out him or play him for a fool. Well jokes on him, it wasn't some big secret he was hiding.
He had to choose his words carefully so as to protect himself, his mind harkening back to stories from Fantina and Wake. He took a moment and a deep breath before saying, "Yeah."
Good one, By.
Riley watched him for a moment, lip between his teeth before grabbing his glass and downing what was left. "So," He said once it was all gone. "How's work been going?"
–
These catch ups became a weekly occurrence and for the next month, interspersed with his exercise routine, Byron and Riley visited the few bars and cafes that Canalave had to offer. The active socialising made him feel like a young man again, along with actually having company he wanted to spend time with.
It was daunting and he tried his best to ignore the feeling. He wasn't even sure what he was getting his hopes up for, but he did know that whatever it was would probably end in disappointment. It had been a long time since he'd felt anything for anyone – fourteen years to be exact – but he could still recall the sting of rejection with unfortunate accuracy, and it was not something he was keen to repeat. It was amplified when you were bisexual, Fantina had said once, and he couldn't agree more.
But despite the self-doubt, Byron had to admit he felt better. Other than Roark's visits, he had something to look forward to now. He'd even bought himself a nice shirt to wear out (a size down too!) so he could at least look like he was going to the same place as Riley, that is to say not to the mines.
And that place tonight was the very same bar as the first time. Riley wanted to try their red list and had somehow convinced him to try something off the whites, the horror. But as they ordered their respective drinks from the bar, something felt off. Riley was quieter than usual, answering questions with hmms and ahhs as he stayed inside his own head.
It was quite concerning for poor Byron who had suddenly started to worry that at some point he'd said something wrong and was about to lose the first friend(?) he'd made in years. When Riley answered "yeah fine" and nothing more to a question about his day, Byron decided he had to know.
"Oi, what's going on?"
The question seemed to jolt him back to reality – whether that was for better or for worse, Byron didn't know – but he wouldn't meet his eyes, instead opting to nervously pick at a coaster on the table. "Ah, nothing. Just tired."
"No, come on. You know me well enough now to know that I'm happy to listen."
His fingers were pinched so tightly together now that Byron thought they may go right through the flimsy bit of cardboard. After what felt like weeks he sighed, as if debating something internally within himself before finally starting, "Look By, I don't want to ruin a friendship but it's going to eat me up inside if I don't say anything."
His breath hitched in his throat and he braced himself for that sting. "We're both adults, Riley."
"Yeah, so I want you to be honest with me," His voice was soft, at odds with his usual vitality. "I'm interested in you. But if you don't feel that way, I still want to keep doing this. You're fun to spend time with."
It wasn't a sting. No, it was a big flood of warmth that radiated out from his chest all the way into his extremities. His face – which he hadn't realised had been so tense until now – relaxed into a large smile as weeks of confusion were replaced with relief. "I feel the same, although I don't know why you're keen on me. And just to clear things up, I do bat for both teams."
His companion's expression mirrored his own and in hindsight the best way to describe the emotion would be overjoyed. "I wasn't sure, you were a tough one to figure out."
He continued smiling, feeling a sense of something he couldn't explain because he hadn't felt it in years. "Gahaha believe me, I've been having the same dilemma recently." With too-loud and normal-volume laughs, they cheers'd. Riley's spare hand relaxed on the coaster and was soon joined by Byron's own. A little rough and a little worn, but still good.
–
They fell into rhythm easily and Byron soon found himself going to work from Riley's small apartment and having someone to share coffee with in his own kitchen each morning. He'd stopped going to The Stinging Tentacool in favour of prepping healthier meals for himself and had found the confidence to exercise in a proper gym. Not a pokemon gym, but an actual fitness gym.
Roark was visiting this weekend too and while he was looking forward to seeing his boy, he now had the monumental task of letting him know about Riley. On paper that didn't seem like the biggest deal, but in reality it was making him indescribably anxious. Reason being he'd never had a conversation about his sexuality with Roark. He'd never thought he'd actually be dating anyone so the need to had never arisen, but he found himself asking Arceus why he hadn't thought to have the conversation earlier in his life.
The trip from Oreburgh to Canalave took half a day and so when he arrived it was early evening. He prepped dinner, intending to have the conversation when they sat down at the table together. Riley had gone home for the weekend, he would introduce them to each other later on, didn't want to overwhelm his son.
"How's school going?" He said, hoping the smalltalk would buy him some time. He'd raised his boy as best as he knew how so he knew things would be okay, but he still had some concerns. Despite rarely seeing her, he didn't want Roark to think his mother was being replaced or that he wouldn't have time for him anymore, just to name a few. Anyway, dinner – pumpkin soup – was served up and Roark grabbed his spoon eagerly. He had to smile, it was nice to see some things hadn't changed.
"Sooooooooo boooooooring," He replied, oblivious to his dad's internal awkwardness. "But the foreman's son is being so annoying every day. He thinks he can boss us around just because his mum is in charge of the mines. I used to be able to say 'well my dad is the gym leader' but now no one believes me. You gotta come down one day and tell them all one day, okay? I need them all to know."
He laughed, pulling Roark into a side-hug before he sat down himself. He didn't want him to leverage his status in the League so his kid could get his way in school, but it was nice to know that he still thought highly enough of him to want him around. "Show them my win-streak, that'll impress 'em."
"I've tried, but no one believes me that you're actually my dad even though we have the same surname," He rolled his eyes. "Please just come down and have like an exhibition match with Gardenia or something."
"Gwahaha, alright alright I'll see what I can do," He released his ever-suffering child who settled back into his seat with a contented 'yessss!'. Perhaps he could tee up the visit with bringing Riley down to his hometown, he'd been meaning to go back and visit for a while now anyway. Felt much more up to it than when he'd first moved. But speaking of Riley. "Roark, I want to have a chat with you."
Roark's face blanched and for the briefest of moments Byron wondered what his son had done to have such a reaction. "Um sure dad, what's up?"
He paused – which in hindsight was probably not the best thing to do for poor Roark who was fiddling guiltily with a loose thread on his shirt (mental note, get him a new one) – needing a moment to steel himself (heh, who said he wasn't funny). He inhaled softly, willing himself to project the image he portrayed at work. Strong, immovable, able to face anything. Why couldn't life be as easy as pokemon battles?
"You okay dad?"
"Yeah, sorry Roarkie," He said, forcing a smile. "I just want to let you know that I've started seeing someone here in Canalave."
"Oh," Is that it, dad? "That's really awesome, I was kinda worried you'd be a bit lonely here."
"Don't ever worry about me, boy, all you need to worry about it getting your school work done," He said and received a groan in response. "His name is Riley and he's also a trainer. Mainly competes in tournaments though."
Roark's jaw dropped open slightly, unsurprisingly surprised at the revelation. The surprise quickly turned into confusion and it was then that Byron knew he had to swoop back in and answer any questions he might have. Been there before, but it was never any easier.
"Are you...what's the term? B something?"
"Bi, yes."
"Is it a new thing?"
"No, I've known for many years," He chuckled. "I just haven't dated anyone for so long that I just never thought much about it."
Roark nodded, seemingly satisfied with that explanation. "Do you go to those parades and stuff? I've seen photos of them in Jubilife."
"Haha!" Byron couldn't help but burst into laughter causing Roark to sit back in an embarrassed huff. Oh to be a child again where the only thing you wanted to know after your parent came out to you was if they'd been in a pride parade. "Yes, but before you were born. I had other priorities when you came along."
That was apparently all Roark was interested in learning about and he hopped up and went to the fridge to grab some juice out. The juice Byron had with breakfast every morning, he hadn't missed having his food eaten without warning. Also, orange juice and pumpkin soup? But that was another conversation entirely.
"Well cool," He shrugged, pouring the orange liquid into a glass. "I just can't imagine you going a party like that at all. Hey, where do you keep the salt?" Before he could even start to look in the very obvious spot by the stove, he was crushed into a massive beartic-hug from his dad.
–
"Dad!" Roark whined, standing in front of the mirror and fumbling with the knot on his bright blue tie. "I can't work out how to put this on properly it keeps slipping."
Byron looked up from his spot on the bed amusedly, watching as his grown son fumed at a piece of fabric. He had only learnt how to properly tie a tie from years of these galas (and Riley), but he wasn't about to tell him that.
"Here Roark," Riley chimed in, hopping up from the end of the bed and holding his hand out for the tie. Roark handed it over and Riley expertly fixed the knot up before giving it back. "You know I taught your dad how to tie them too, he'd always pull the tail at the wrong angle and the whole thing would unravel."
"Oh shush," He grumbled. "I had no reason to wear a suit other than these things. Anyway come on, we have to go otherwise we'll be late and you know how Cynthia hates lateness."
"Does she?" Roark asked, finally slipping the thing over his head and under his collar. He looked so smart; his boy was all grown up. "Thanks Riley."
"Probably, but let's go."
It wasn't the first time Riley had come to one of the galas with him, but it was Roark's first time. He was a gym leader now, and that fact made his head spin. His child, his grown child had – despite his inexperience – shown enough promise and talent to the League that they'd given him the position. It made his chest swell with pride and if he thought about it too much he thought his lungs might burst.
So to distract himself from the chest bursting, he squeezed Riley's hand tightly with his own still-rough-and-worn one. Riley gripped back and together they followed as Roark marched their small family proudly into the Hearthome Ballroom.