Eros: The Obsession

Chapter Three

Jun actually makes it to work on time for once, clocking his shift in a few minutes before he's even supposed to. He gingerly walks down the corridor and to the kitchen area, hoping to get in a cup of coffee before his shift starts.

A woman stands near the kettle, cackling loudly with another one of her female colleagues. Jun doesn't acknowledge her save for quietly asking her to step aside so that he can reach the cupboard they keep the mugs in. Still, he feels her eyes on his frame, sizing him up like he's a scrap of meat she's ready to sink her teeth into.

"You're one of the new temp staff, right?" she asks like his black sweater vest doesn't obviously state so.

"Yeah," he replies, irked at having to address her.

"I've seen some of your work displayed at our exhibitions," she continues. "You're too talented to be working the till."

"Maybe you should tell Jenkins that," Jun scoffs with a roll of his eyes, stirring his coffee too quickly and spilling some of its contents over the rim of the mug.

The woman laughs good-naturedly, taking Jun's irritation for nervousness. "Maybe I will," she quips, grabbing his hand and toweling it dry for him. "You're kinda cute for a cashier."

Jun's eye twitches, a burning irritation working its way up his insides. He knows that she's flirting but no part of him enjoys the attention. He knows her type, overconfident and entitled because she's rich and has the money to maintain her appearance. He's seen her flirt with some of the higher-ups at the exhibition hall when they do visit the gallery, has heard her being f****d in storage closets during events. And now she seems to want him.

Jun wrenches his hand free with a cruel twist of his mouth. "You're not my type," he growls, turning around and stalking out of the kitchen area, his mug of coffee forgotten in his haste to leave.

She leaves him alone for most of the day but he does catch the angry glares she throws his way. Still, she remains the epitome of professionalism as she guides a group of high-schoolers through the gallery, sprouting insignificant facts about their clients photographs as she does. 

He thinks she's gotten over her interest of him when she leads the last group of the day out. She stops at his desk, huffing tiredly as she mutters, "God, I hate teenagers. Horny little wankers, the lot of them."

Jun snorts in amusement. He'd seen the way the boys from the last few trips drooled over her, eyes sparkling with lustful intent - and a part of him gets it. The woman - whose name he still doesn't know because she still hasn't bothered to properly introduce herself - is the epitome of grace with her long legs, a slim waist, big t**s and curvy thighs. She looks like sin on a stick, face dolled up to perfection with her long black locks in a high ponytail. He gets it, he really does, and if he were a lesser man, she would have sparked his interest, too. But nothing about her excites him, nothing about her makes him want to know more. She's as shallow as the makeup she wears, everything about her personality summed up in the expensive brand of Victoria's Secret lingerie she had flashed the boys' for their attention.

"What time do you get off?" she asks, picking up a pen off of the desk and twirling it between long, slender fingers.

Jun checks the clock. "In an hour," he responds.

She nods, exaggeratedly fiddling with the pen so that it tumbles out of her hands and to the floor. He watches with a deadpan look as she mumbles a fake "Oops," before bending down to pick it up. The tiny skirt she has on slides up her thighs, clinging around the cleft of her ass and exposing the flimsy lingerie piece she's wearing. Jun rolls his eyes before going back to checking the entrance cameras.

She stands up and from his periphery, he can see the smug grin fall of her face when she realizes that he's not paying attention to her. She huffs angrily, flinging the pen carelessly before she turns and stalks away.

An hour later, Jun is all packed up and ready to clock out when Jenkins calls him into his office.

He gingerly knocks on the door, schooling his irritation when he steps into the older man's office. It smells of stale smoke and sweat, unkempt with papers and folders scattered about. Jenkins sits at his desk, eyes narrowed in anger as Jun comes into view.

"Sit," Jenkins snips, spittle flying out of his mouth and clinging to his bushy beard. Jun strolls up to the visitors couch and lowers himself carefully, avoiding the weird stains on the edges.

"Hilary tells me that you've been making unprofessional comments about her during your shift. s****l harassment is not tolerated here, whether verbal or physical." 

Jun suspects that Hilary is the slut who kept trying to come onto him. "She's lying," he says even though he wants to say something a little less polite about her.

"Still," Jenkins brushes off his rebuttal., "That, coupled with your inconsistent hours has left me no choice. You're fired."

Jun stares at him for a moment before he nods and stands to leave. "Maybe next time you accuse someone of s****l harassment, make sure your recently used condom isn't lying on the floor," Jun nods his head towards the trashcan, where a flimsy condom wrapper lies, its contents spilled onto the floor.

Jenkins sputters, rushing over to clean up the evidence but Jun doesn't wait for a response. He strides back out to the front desk, where Hilary sits with a smug expression.

"You should have been nicer to me," she teases.

"And you should make sure that the cameras are turned off the next time you trade s****l acts for favors," he replies in a nonchalant tone. "Expect a call from the CEO soon. I sent him a little gift, courtesy of you and Jenkins."

He strides past, ignoring the indignant cry that leaves her lips.

When Jun gets home, it finally hits him. His steps falter up the stairs as he stumbles to a stop. He has no job.

What the f**k is he going to do now?

A weight presses over his heart, his throat constricting as it crushes him from the inside out. He lets a few frustrated tears out and they leak down his face, dripping off of his chin as he drops his head and pulls in a shaky breath. His apartment isn't the most expensive to rent but his job at the gallery had barely paid for it as it was.

Chuckling bitterly, he picks himself up, shoulders bunched together as he dries his eyes and makes his way down the corridor and to his apartment. He feels a little guilty for not waiting until Tara finished work to return home 'together' but he reckons that she doesn't need his protection anymore – what with her new fiancé and all. As he thinks it, his hearts gives a painful little pang, unable to let go of the memory of her kind smile. He walks passed her door forlornly, eyes sliding over to the kitchen window as he walks by. He can't really make out anything behind the flimsy film of her window blinds  – drawn haphazardly in her haste to leave for work, he assumes – but that innate curiosity that's always gripped him every time Tara is involved still draws his full attention. It's why he completely misses the small, white envelope that rests atop his mat.

His feet step over the paper, the distinct crunch of it drawing his attention. Jun pulls his foot back and glances down, eyeing the untidy scrawl of his name across the white surface. He recognizes the handwriting instantly and anger rushes up passed his neck and to the apples of his cheeks.

With a mocking scoff, Jun picks up the offending piece of paper and rips it open to reveal its contents.

Dear Jun,

How are you doing? We haven't heard from you in a while and we just wanted to make sure you were doing okay.

Your father's worried about you. He says that you left without notifying Mr. Montesi. He wants you to come home, to explain yourself so that you don't cause more trouble for yourself. Let me know when you want to visit and I'll make sure to prepare your favorite – kimchi fried rice and tonkatsu!

Love always,

Mom.

Jun chuckles bitterly as he reads through the letter. The stale stench of cigarette smoke wafts up to his nose, coupled with the stifling aroma of the horrible perfume his mother likes wearing. It makes him think of him and that makes him angrier than he'd been before. He doesn't need to hear it from her to know that her words are insincere. He takes it for what it is – a warning to come home and sort his s**t out, to appease Aldo Montesi and his gang of goons.

Still, he can't help the overwhelming betrayal that he feels at her selfishness. He hates himself for letting her get to him and he scrubs at his now wet cheeks in frustration and self-loathing. That's when Tara sees him.

"Jun!" she greets with a cheerful smile, which falls off her face the moment he turns to her with his tear-stained face. "What happened?" She asks, rushing over and taking his face in her hands.

Her palms are warm as they brush against the apples of his cheeks, underneath his eyes, near the corners of his mouth. Her eyes are softer than he's ever seen them and Jun has wanted nothing more than the urge that overcomes him in that moment, to swoop down and kiss her for her unabashed empathy.

"I'm sorry," he chuckles dryly. "It's just been a stressful day."

Tara lowers her hands to his, wrapping her fingers around his wrist as she pulls him to her door. "Come inside, I'll make you some tea and you can tell me all about it."

Jun has never been in her apartment – not with her present – so his eyes bulge at the opportunity, frustration and hurt forgotten as he waits for her to unlock the door with curious eyes. He scrunches the letter in his pocket, choosing to deal with it another time.

When Tara steps inside, she leads him to the kitchen where she begins getting things out for drinks. Jun watches her work with a guarded but soft look in his eyes, wondering what parallel universe he's stepped into to have her treat him with such genuine kindness and worry.

She asks for his tea order –  black, no sugar – and sets to work as she says, "Alright, tell me what's bothering you."

"I got fired from my job today," Jun tells her instead, not wanting to share the gritty politics of his complicated home life just yet.

"Oh no," she frowns in displeasure. "Why did they do that?"

"Some woman didn't like that I wouldn't sleep with her so she framed me for s****l harassment," Jun scoffs. It's not the whole truth but it does its job – Tara's brows furrow in anger, her nose scrunching with the effort. "That's horrible," she huffs.

"It's okay," he shrugs. "I hated the job anyway. I would have left sooner or later, I just wish I'd found something first."

She thinks for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip as she stirs his tea. Jun's frustration completely dissipates at the domesticity of the scene in front of him, and he allows himself to get lost in the fantasy of it for a while.

When Tara turns to him, she looks almost nervous. "My company's looking for a videographer for my team," she mumbles. "If you'd be interested."

Jun stills, eyes widening in disbelief.

"You don't have to if you don't want to!" she rushes out in her haste to correct herself. "You're probably loads more talented than-"

"I'd love to work with you!" Jun cuts her off, tone frantic.

She stops speaking, mouth dropping open into a perfect 'o' before she asks, "Really?" in a shy tone.

"Of course," Jun nods in reply. "Would you mind giving me the details of the position."

"Yeah!" Tara nods enthusiastically, her hair bouncing all over the place.

And that's how he starts working with her.