#open.001

It had been a few days since Ozan returned to the small town, and he had been slowly reconnecting with the place in his own time. He wasn't ready to face some people and had avoided reaching out to anyone other than his sister Esra. He had yet to tell even his parents. This place had a special place in his heart, but it also had wounds so large they were like chasms, and he worried he wasn't ready to face them.

He stood outside the resort's veranda with his tea in hand, watching the rain fall. This was a vast difference from living on his grandparents' farm in Turkey. His hand reached up to touch the ring on the chain around his neck, memories of his grandmother playing in his mind. A tickle of anxiety itched his throat, so he cleared it gently. "Saçma," he offered to the person next to him, then shook his head, forgetting where he was. "Sorry, tickly throat," he added with a friendly smile. "I blame the weather this time of year, not good, for the lungs." A faint blush crept onto his cheeks as he realized he had just explained one of the most straightforward medical concepts — bad weather usually meant sickness. Everyone knew that. He just happened to fixate.

After finally unpacking all of his things and putting them in their proper places, Makishima decided that he needed some fresh air. It was still early by the time he had finished. Most of the people were probably eating breakfast by now, but he'd already done so; he was an early riser. Grabbing his helmet, the cyclist took hold of his white and red TIME ’08 VRXS, rolling it out of his room and outside Ringo Dorm’s doors.

It was a nice morning for a joy ride. Makishima was dressed in fitted shorts and a thin t-shirt, both of the garments coloured in wildly vibrant colours just like his long, green with red hair. The teen kicked down his bike’s kickstand before carefully arranging his hair, putting his helmet on a moment later. It wasn’t long before the cyclist was off riding at a leisurely speed in search for a path to some mountains, his iridescent hair waving in the wind behind him.

Eventually, Makishima found his way off campus, increasing his speed as he headed towards what looked like the highest slope in the vicinity. Spending most of his weekend opening boxes, arranging and rearranging his room had made the cyclist more than a little bit restless. As soon as the road became steeper, the teen got up from the bike's seat, leaning from one side to the next with each push of his legs. Weaving across the road, the teen quickly climbed up the hill, breaking a sweat around halfway to the top. Seeing as the new student didn’t know where the road led to on the other side of the top, the green-haired teen let gravity take hold of him as he sped down the road, riding safely through the turns and minding the other people on the road.

It was almost lunchtime by the time the cyclist made his way back to campus, pedalling slowly now that there were students walking around. Well, knowing where the nearest slope was didn’t help the teen in the least in finding where he could get food for lunch. He looked to one of the nearest students and steered his bike beside them, leaning on his handlebars.