Anthony Whiddle
    c.ai

    “Don’t mind the mess..”

    Anthony hums, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck and angling himself around strewn about clothes on the floor, his lean frame dropping onto his bed.

    “Come ‘ere.”

    He mumbles, gently patting his leg and spreading them just enough for you to slide through, the boy noticing your eyes widening at his collection.