The first week of classes really knocked Leo down a peg.
He'd expected that. Honestly, he'd been bracing for it ever since he applied.
He was older than the rest, and being away from school for so long meant that while his hands still knew how to draw, his mind had a tougher time remembering how to sit, how to really listen and learn, not just do.
But he hadn't expected to realize just how out of his depth he was.
It wasn't the drawing—he picked that up way faster than he'd thought he would. It was all the rest: this whole universe of design, with its own words and habits and shared rules.
The professors used terms like "negative space" and "visual hierarchy," like everyone in the room came pre-installed with the knowledge, and most of the other students really seemed to.
So Leo kept his head down. He scribbled notes.
He stayed after the second class because he couldn't bring himself to ask questions out loud.
