Are You Game prompt - Pokemon, Lance and Silver: anger/frustration - Just get it all out now.
He'd known his protege was keeping some secrets from him, but he'd never imagined anything like this. As Lance stared at the Team Rocket database file, he shook his head in disbelief. How could such a promising young man be related to Giovanni Vittorio in any way, shape or form? But there it was, and now Lance was stuck with the question of how he'd broach the subject with Silver.
Or at least, he would have been if Silver hadn't walked into the den and spotted the file. His cheeks turned bright red and he glared daggers at Lance before storming out of the room, and Lance sighed.
"Looks like that answers my question." He ran after the teenager, managing to duck inside his room before the door slammed. He was immediately greeted with a shoe thrown in his direction.
"Can we talk?" No answer, only another shoe. "Silver, please. I'm not mad, I just-"
"Get out." The response was cold, tightly controlled.
"Silver-"
"There's nothing to talk about." He wouldn't even look up. "So you found out that loser's my dad, so what? Just kick me out, I'll find somewhere else to stay." What? Lance tried to get a look at the young man's face, but Silver's head was bent down so far it was impossible. His shoulders shook, and Lance wondered just how much he was holding back. "I'll start packing tonight."
He did the only thing he could think of, and hugged him. Lance wasn't exactly the touchy-feely type, but he knew Silver needed it, whether or not the teenager thought he did. Of course, Silver began to struggle, pushing weakly at Lance's arms.
"G-get off! Stop touching me, I-"
"It's okay." Lance only tightened his hold. "Let it out, Silver. It's okay."
"There's nothing to let out! Let me go!" Silver protested. "Just because I spend every day knowing I'm related to that loser, just because you know and you want me out of your house and you pity me like I'm some kind of dad-less weakling and-" His shoulders hitched, and suddenly angry tears were streaming down his cheeks. "Forget you! I don't need you, I don't need anyone! I'm not weak! I-"
And then he was grabbing Lance's shirt, sobbing against his shoulder. Lance just held him there, rubbing his back, not saying anything as Silver continued to rant and scream and cry all his shame and anger. How long had Silver been holding all of this back, he wondered. Since he was a child, since Giovanni had instilled in him a fear of weakness or showing emotion; Lance remembered the man being quite cold and he wouldn't be surprised if he'd raised Silver to be the same way.
The stories poured out next. Dad ignored him, hadn't even wanted him around. Sometimes he seemed to care, but it was always a fluke or something like that. Then one day he'd just up and left. No calls, no letters, not even a lousy email or postcard. How Silver feared ending up just as weak and pathetic as his old man.
So that's why he was so obsessed with strength at the expense of his Pokemon's well-being, Lance realized. His arrogance was born from fear, from self-doubt.
Finally, the tears stopped and the anger faded, leaving Silver limp and humiliated in Lance's grasp. The teenager looked up at him, scowling through red puffy eyes and blotchy cheeks.
"Don't tell anyone about this," he snapped. "Even Ethan and Lyra don't know. Tell them and I'll kick your ass so hard you won't know what hit you!"
"I won't," Lance promised. "And Silver?"
"Hm?"
"You never will be like him. You're already a better person than he was, and you're much stronger, too," Lance said. "You never had to worry about becoming him. Not with your potential."
"...you..."
"I mean it."
He could have sworn he saw Silver's eyes light up with a smile just then, but Silver only nodded and forced a smirk.
"Yeah, well. That just shows you've been paying attention, and you're not as stupid as your hair is!" he said gruffly. Lance just smiled and ran a hand through his hair, not taking offense.
"You're welcome."