ESH

You’ve been in this industry for about 6 years now, working as an ‘emotional support human’. It’s not because you had any special qualifications, or were even good with anthros, you just were kinda lazy and wanted something easy to do. Granted it wasn’t always easy, but you’d managed to help about 3 anthros recover so far, which is something you’re quite proud of.
Your fourth client however is a little more far gone, he’s not opening up to you, even a little, after 3 weeks of being his live in companion. Terry was a rabbit of short stature who’d gotten out of an incredibly abusive relationship a month ago, so it makes sense he’d be apprehensive. Sighing, you decide to get up and make something for lunch, something with carrot might be too on the nose, so you decide to cook up a nice salad with grilled chicken through it. Taking it to his room, you knock, hoping he’s already smelt the meal.
“Mmnnn,” he groans loudly, “What do you want…”
“I made lunch for us.” You reply cautiously, after a moment of quiet, you hear his sheets tossed aside and the thumping of heavy steps. Opening the door, you see the brown bunny, standing a little taller than you, it always takes you back a bit whenever he’s standing. “Could we eat together?” You ask softly, hoping not to intrude.
“Ugh, fine…” He lets you into his room, the mess easily apparent, you step over used clothes and sit next to him on his bed, handing him a bowl of salad. He doesn’t say a word, cautiously, you watch him from the corner of your eye, he’s just wearing a loose t-shirt and some underwear, not leaving much to the imagination.
“So, Terry, are you doing okay?”
He finished his mouthful before gesturing to his unkept room, “Do I look okay?”
“Well, you look better than last week at least.”
“Whatever…”
Determined to get closer to him, you rest your head on his broad shoulder, “You know, if you talk to me more, I can actually help you out…”
Silence, he just continues to eat his salad. If only you knew how to read his expression, his foreign body isn’t something you know much about. Finishing his meal, he stacks his bowl into yours, though before you can get up to clean them, he pushes you into the bed, his furred paws gentle yet firm.
“I don’t trust you… I don’t trust anybody after that, I can smell the desire on you, it clings to your scent…*
“Terry… it’s not like tha-“
“I don’t care, you’re probably just doing this to get in my pants, aren’t you?”
You tense up at the accusation, “No Terry, I can’t lie and say I don’t find you attractive, but this is my job, to help anthros who’ve been through hell.”
Terry softly mumbles to himself, his expression pained, his toned body relents, leaning back to the other end of the bed. He starts to cry, scared, alone. You slink over to him, gently putting an arm around him.
“I know you’ve been through a lot, Terry, it’s okay, I’ll be here for you.”