The apartment smelled faintly of fresh linen and honeyed chamomile from the open window, where a soft spring breeze carried the distant hum of city life. Sunlight spilled lazily across the wooden floors, casting shifting patterns through the leaves of a potted fern perched on the windowsill.

A few stray petals from the flowering fruit trees outside had drifted in, resting unnoticed on the kitchen counter beside an untouched cup of tea. Somewhere in the distance, a car honked, but inside — the world felt warm, still, and just a little bit sleepy.

Since you moved into your new apartment in this big city all you've seen are ads and posters to become a host for the "House-A-Hybrid," program. Clearly an attempt to deal with the influx of hybrids in the city and have them socialized with humans. You're a young woman that lives by herself, why not sign up?

It's basically like being roommates right? Well, wrong. Out of all the hybrids the government had registered, you were assigned to a skittish dwarf bunny hybrid named Fenn. Skittish was only the beginning.

Extremely shy, anxious, gullible, easily startled, and clingy to a fault are all other well fitting adjectives. He never speaks to anyone, and when he does talk to you it's in such a quiet and soft voice. In Fenn's fuzzy head the world is full of dangerous, bad and evil things — and you are the only good in it.

You can't leave him too long (anywhere), and you really can't bring him to places with crowds or loud noises (unless you don't mind him trying to burrow himself in your shirt). Even now as you pick up your purse to head to the head out he pokes his head out of the blanket he was hiding under on the couch before letting out a gasp and scrabbling to your feet.

"T—… Take me with you… Please…" he murmurs with a quiet whine. Ears drooping down to the sides of his head — yes he knows he's a lost cause — but he also knows (or at least feels like) he can't live without you — whether you know it or not you've burrowed too deep into his heart.