Emery nodded, looking over the part the other had already done. Everything looked so neat and perfect. He obviously knew what he was doing. Emery hadn’t taken to painting, but he’d always been creative. Poetry and writing had been his outlets. But every time he had to take art in high school, he tried his best. Part of him wished he could be a decent painter, but instead he had a bunch of poems at home that would probably never see the light of day.
❛ I just started going to the local college. ❜
“ Freshman, I’m guessing. You look young. ”
He remembered his freshman year. Spent all of his time in the art studio or his dorm room, just hiding away from people. He’d been on hormones for a while then and got the surgery towards the end so as not to interfere too much with studies. The years after were easier on him, more because he was back on his medication and found the fighting ring. Sometimes he still wondered if he could go pro with that. Dipping his brush in the can of pain near the silhouette, he finished up the outline before filling in the person.
