Ethan sighed as he dropped the milk into the fridge. It groaned and creaked as he closed the door. The apartment he had gotten when Chris had dumped him was only a step above a landfill. Everything was brown, except for the splattered of puke green paint that was strewn across the single bedroom single bathroom apartment. The previous tenant was lovely enough to decorate the place with the putrid color. He grabbed his cell phone, unplugging it from the only working wall socket in the apartment, and headed out.
It had been a week since he had started working with the infected, though he hadn't been given the same bunch as his first day. He shrugged off the flood of emotions that filled him when he thought about Carey. The little mouse hybrid had touched him somewhere in his heart, somewhere no one ever had before. Not even Chris. The meek mannerisms, soft spoken voice, nervous twitches, and small smiles all added to the perfect package. Ethan couldn't help but want to see the man again. But at the same time, next to the want, was that smoldering hatred that lurked just below the surface. It wasn't as furious with Carey as it was with other infected scum, but it was always there.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Trish greeted him at the front desk as usual, and handed him a stack of files. He had gotten used to the routine, and after a bit of small talk, headed off to the infected he would be seeing today. As he walked towards the elevator, he opened the first file. The first one in his hands, was Carey. His first day there, Trish had just held his files and told him where to go. But now he got to see them. The picture of Carey in the file looked like it had been taken right after he had transformed. He was lying in a bed, strapped down with brown leather padded straps, his ears pressed back against his head. Several track marks were running up his arms, where he had been injected with something. He wore a plain gray set of scrubs. Ethan looked up as the elevator door opened, and he stepped inside before turning his eyes back down to the file.
To the right of his picture was just general information. He was five foot three, he weighed 97 pounds, he had white fur, and black eyes. All of this Ethan already knew. He looked below the general info and found an interesting section. Medication. He scanned the small box filled with hand written notes. Xanax, Ambien, Zoloft. Ethan continued down, where there was a 'notes' section. In scribbled, uneven handwriting was written:
'Patient has severe Nosocomephobia, Latrophobia, and Trypanophobia.
Patient should have frequent contact with people and other infected, to aid in the recovery of severe social anxiety. '
Ethan quickly pulled out his phone and googled the phobias on the first line.
"Hospitals, doctors, and needles," he mumbled to himself. The doors opened and he found Carey's room quickly. He shoved his phone back into his pocket and closed the file, before knocking on the door.
"Come in," came the soft call from the other side of the door. Ethan opened it, and was greeted with the sight of Carey sitting on the couch. He held his tail in his hands, as he did before, squeezing it nervously. He looked the same as he did the first time Ethan had met him, only this time he wore a pair of sweat pants. "Oh. Hi, Ethan." Carey smiled and Ethan could have sworn he could see a soft pink blush under the thin white fur on his cheeks.
"Hey," Ethan smiled, he tried to ignore the softly glowing rage inside him. He sat down on the couch and there was a small silence that passed between them.
"How are you?" Carey asked, tugging at his tail.
"I'm alright, and you?" Ethan set the files down on the table.
"I'm okay... I guess... is it too dark in here for you? I can turn some lights on..." Carey said, in his soft but nervous voice. He spoke so fast Ethan almost couldn't keep up.
"No, it's fine, if you're more comfortable in the dark," Ethan said. It felt weird, asking if an infected was comfortable. Why did he care?
"... I am... actually. But it's okay if you want me to-"
"Carey, it's fine," Ethan chuckled. Carey blushed and sat back down, his white feet resting on the seat of the couch underneath him. He even sat like a mouse.
"Sorry... I just get nervous," he bit his lip, and pulled his tail closer to him. He hugged it like a child would hug a stuffed bear.
"Yeah, I saw in your file you have anxiety," Ethan said. Carey's ears laid flat against his head.
"You read my file?" he whined nervously.
