Roséville

VI. His Journal

Want? Not what I need?  "There's no such thing that holds my interest right now. If there would be, I will let you know."

His father did not bother him after that. Their relation was already doomed.

Dorian finished his breakfast in record time but kept his manners in check. He grabbed his worn out skateboard from his trunk and walked the path that lead him to his skateboard arena all the while watching the soft snowflakes descending.

The concrete surface was sucked inside the ground― the bowl, a completely enclosed area of quarter-pipes and half pipes that curve in corners― which had pipes, pools, rinks, rails and pits of many types, the vert walls as high as 20 meters could be, the elevated flat backs on the sides, a funbox which was a combination of banks, flats, rails, kickers, etc. connected to each other to form mini gaps, pyramid, cradle and much, much more.

The lamps attached to the roof was the only source of light besides the now dark blue sky. Dorian tried to shake off his tensed posture and let himself free as he swerved in his skate-board on the ramps and took narrow, curved turns.

But the thing was that even after skateboarding for an hour or so, Dorian could not find peace. Maybe because he was skating alone without the energized crowd that usually surrounded him in the Crestford town's public skateboarding arena. He sat on the ground with his elbows supporting his weight as he watched the snow blowing in the breeze just how little thoughts come and go in one's mind.

Not long after, a worker came to him and bowed before asking him if he needed anything. He replied negatively and the worker turned around to leave when Dorian stood up abruptly and stopped him.

"Do you know if there's any skate-park in the town?" Dorian asked the worker, Gerard.

"Yes, I do, Monsieur. Just two blocks away from the town's park. But it is public,"

"Thanks," Dorian said with generosity which left the worker shocked.

Dorian, who tied his skateboard to his body with a thick rubber band, waited by the mansion's entrance for a servant who was zip chaining his motorcycle's tires for the snowy weather. The servant drove his vehicle to where Dorian was standing and handed him the keys after greeting him. Dorian nodded at him and climbed on his motorcycle with his as the security guards opened the mansion's gate for him to exit.

―at the park―

He parked his motorcycle on the side as he untied his skate board from himself and took in his surroundings. Dorian could taste the energy and enthusiasm vibrating off the people skirting around in the skating park. Instantly his mood brightened with this.

A tattooed man was standing around the corner looking curiously at him because Dorian was wearing expensive clothes and to top it all his motorcycle was not made available in America yet.

"Yo! You new around?" the man asked him.

"Yeah, I am Dorian." Dorian replied and smiled a little.

"It is Tyler. Ty for you." The guy winked and ushered him inside the park.

The skateboard park was all he could wish for. Graffiti covered half of the ground, colorful lighting bounced off people and he was not alone. Some people were spraying different aerosol color sprays on the place. As if sensing his curiosity, Tyler spoke.

"Oh, some douche-bag got this place renovated. More like got this place painted with white so we decided to work on the graffiti art again,"

"I would like to volunteer," Dorian said as a full blown-smile lighted up his face.