#not seen: roark stress gripping the nearest solid object

[rockheadcd]

@electrivolt​​ said: "You should not be here."

What might've sounded like normal words, as cold as they were, held that underlying sort of poison that only years curating such anger and resentment could brew, the kind only familiarity could truly tell apart.

"You have your own gym business to attend to. In the other side of the region as well." And he glares, as if Roark is not even worth of being considered an coworker, let alone an equal. "There is no reason for you to be here."

( not anymore, at last )

"If you'll excuse me, I have matters to attend regarding my city. Things that are actually important." Things he would've never understood, the implied meaning all too clear. "So if you've come to grieve, or mourn, or whatever else you think is worth your time, find somewhere else."

Ira was too busy returning things to what they were meant to be to concern himself with stupid, dead kids and worthless gym leaders, wasn't he? / YOU. | accepting, but at the cost of roark’s sanity. 

He’d gotten too comfortable. He knew it. He knew this was bound to happen, and yet he played his luck every time—it was no secret that the league had simply handed the gym over to Ira again, especially when there was such a lack of response from the league. It was clear what was assumed in the absence of their favorite pain in the ass. Electivire’s fur bristles next to him sooner than Roark realizes who he was looking at. 

They were convinced he was gone for good. That he’d probably did it himself, no less ( the vitriol he felt tasted terrible in his unfortunately unstable state ).

But to see this man in the flesh simply speak to him like he’d been here all along.. Lips pressed into a thin line, teeth gritting behind a tightly composed expression. The league didn’t announce the change of hands. “It’s been empty the last couple of times,” Roark says with as much nonchalance as he can muster. Oh, if it weren’t for the fact he would lose everything if he did anything—he didn’t realize he had this much pent up anger towards this man.

Or, maybe it had felt amplified from the months with no sign of Volkner, no signs of Luxray, and no signs of any clues no matter where he explored. At this point, roaming Sunyshore was simply the closest he could get, besides simply letting Volkner’s team roam around in the house they knew best. 

And yet, Ira still has the audacity to continue. It’s not only Roark’s fist that curls when he hears the word mourn.

“—You don’t even know if he’s dead.” You just want him to be because it’s the closest it’s ever been! 

Perhaps fortunately, the only thing that snaps Roark out of his own temptations is the growl that utters beside him—Electivire wasn’t bound by the rules of the league, nor society, really. Without his trainer, he didn’t have a reason to listen to Roark out of anything except his own generosity. It was a miracle that Rotom could divulge almost anything when asked, especially when the care of Volkner’s team was divided and essentially being shuffled around—he learned well of Electivire’s short fuse, and how quickly he could be riled up. Ira’s animosity was no different than another male ‘mon trying to establish dominance.

For his safety ( and unfortunately ira’s, lest roark wanted to also disappear from the face of sinnoh ).. “I’m sorry, big guy, I can’t let you—” Roark switches gears, his brows furrowing as he takes his ball and quickly returns the ‘mon, sighing as he stares at it.

( i’m sorry... i know how you feel.. but we can’t screw up now )

The grimace Roark sports is as honest as he’ll allow himself to be, and it stays solid even when he looks up at Ira. He’s disgusted with the way things have gone over these last months, but somehow, it’s all gotten worse. “Sorry. I’ll be out of your way,” he excuses himself, unwilling to bear any more back-handed comments about someone so dear to him. To know people like him exist... it was enough vindication to somehow bring Volkner home.