FILTHY || J.JK

29| Are you even real?

15 minutes later...

"And now put your sign here," he leaves his chair to reach behind me, leans down to the front with his palm flattening next to my hand and my body being guarded by his bigger, taller and muscular one.

I don't know, I can't stop thinking about that dream. And it's so disgusting.

"Here?" He stops me abruptly, "no, this is for the manager. You are supposed to sign in the left corner, sweetheart." He places his slender finger on top of the blank space. I stop zoning out and do my signature right where I'm supposed to, apparently, trying to ignore how warm I feel with him positioned this way behind my body.

"Okay. It's done." He takes the document and from the close, inspects it to make sure there's no mistake left. I take my cup to empty it, drinking until the last drop of this wonderful and delicious tea.

"Great. I believe the job's fixed already." He cheers me up by his hopefulness, smiling faintly, my attention going from his rosy lips to up at his eyes. "Will I need to go and present a first day for observation?" He nods as he removes his glasses, "you will need to, but it won't be tomorrow. It'll probably take maximum three days for this resume to be registered, Cherry."

"Oh..." I am alright with it, I can understand that the procedures require a lot of time so it's only normal for this to take a few days. "It'd be fine, mister Jeon, I just hope I'll be appointed."

Mister Jeon leans back after taking a seat, his hand still holding my resume as he looks at me with some delight and assurance, "you'll be, I trust you." I smile up at him with some courage, "yes." He doesn't speak anymore, but only keeps his attention on me, but I find him looking up at my hair and then down all the way to my neck, he frowns but not in a stressed manner.

"Your step-father isn't hurting you, is he?" His question kind of makes me wonder, it's out of a sudden but maybe he believes that I have gotten this bruise because of some abuse.

Shaking my head, I relax him, "he does not. He has not caused this injury." For half a second, I don't even realise that I lied in that first half of my sentence. Finding no more strength to face mister Jeon after this, in his eyes, I lower my gaze at my hands resting on my thigh. "I tried contacting him last night but he sounded like he....wasn't home and neither was he sober."

He explains his concerns for me, probably only as a teacher, "so, I kinda got worried because you know, when people aren't in their senses, they...do things they might not want to when they were sober, and so I only wanted to check if you're alright so I texted you, and you answered so I was relieved."

He intertwines his veiny hands, gazing straight up into my soul with a soft, intense gaze, and he tells me the reason for him messaging me that late the last night to ask me if I'm asleep.

I cannot fathom how much it pains me to know that a person cares about me in such a way, but I can't, because I'm his student and he's no one to me but a teacher. "Mister Jeon, you don't have to worry." I open my mouth to let him know, to make him aware of the things I know but conceal, "he doesn't bother me much, and I'm already used to being without my step-father, so....it's all right now, I don't let him get on my nerves and I keep away from him."

A part of the truth leaves me, and he hears it all without averting his eyes that are stuck on me, some astonishment reflecting in his deeply sunken eyes, "it's a good thing. Just focus on yourself and your sister, and if you need anything else, I'm here for that. Okay?"

He slides his chair even closer to the table and follows up the movement of my eyes, glancing down at my cheek as I scratch it, "thank you." I appreciate him caring for us, and say nothing else.

Anyone else who's good and kind will probably say and do the same, so it's not that I can say he thinks of me and does it personally.

We both let the silence consume us, and without any words, mister Jeon looks one last time at the papers before he keeps them away, into his file, and closes the file. "Do you wanna stay for dinner?" He clears his throat, sounding soft and insisting, looking through my head with a peek in my eyes.

I don't know, I kind of want to. But I am not sure if my step-father would like that.

"If you're worried about what your step-father would think, I'll text him, don't worry. He can look after himself, he's an adult." Picking up his phone, he opens something but I stop him, "no, you don't have to. I can stay here till the dinner. He doesn't have any problem." I can't just let him know how much of a narcissistic, weird manipulative person Jungwoo is; it's something I'm so ashamed of and I'm also afraid but I'll deal with it in my ways.

It's not like he'd anyway stop hurting me, or hurt me any less than he is.

"Are you sure it won't cause any problem?" I nod, gripping the edge of my dress, crumpling it out of a nervous-stricken confusion which is moving in circles in my mind.

"Great, I'll get to the kitchen. Will you come along or go to Haerin?" He rolls the sleeves of his full-sleeved, brown top and combs back his sleek hair which seems air-dried, fluffy and soft. "I come with you." I get off the chair to follow him out the office. "When I'll be going to school tomorrow, I'll hand over the resume to whosoever it requires. You can stop stressing, all right?"

He never stops thinking about me and my own problems, but I keep my delusions to myself and stay quiet while listening, "okay."

Mister Jeon goes into the kitchen while I step inside only to stick to the corner, keeping my eyes on him and what he's working on. "Eating alone must be hard...." he turns his head to look for my response at what he said, and when I don't move, he just sighs, understanding that it truly is, at times, "I can understand. So, what would you like, carrots, potatoes or chicken?"

He asks for my preferences, and I comply to whatever is there and easy to make, "umm...." I look around and see him holding the packet of noodles, but he seems too busy to notice me, "anything would be fine."

Doing what he needs to, he listens to my choice and turns to glance over, "I'm making some meat soup and rice with kimchi salad." He passes his tongue down his pink lips to make the texture of his skin shiny, his eyes moving away at the stove when he goes there to boil the potatoes, "sounds yummy?" I can't help but smile, of course, agreeing. By the feels of it, I can tell I'm going to be eating way too much tonight.

But I can't just forget that I need to be home by ten. I have to hold back my feelings, nonetheless of how much I like it here with mister Jeon.

. . .

Some minutes passing by quickly when I sat to watch the TV, I glance towards Haerin to make sure that she's breathing well and sleeping sound. The sound of mister Jeon's footsteps echo in the natural silence of the big room, "come here." He calls me to attend him, so I go. "Have a bite." He picks up a spoonful of soup and blows on it, then flies it to my lips.

I can't believe how soft he can be, yet look so daring and intimidating. I part my lips and taste the food that mister Jeon cooked for us, with painstaking effort and time.

"How's it? Are the flavours okay?" He inquires me as if he was nervous and tensed about the delicious soup, sounding worrisome. I swallow after the milky thick liquid has left its mellow taste all over on my tongue, and I look up at his shining eyes, "this is amazing. Nothing about it is bad. It's very flavourful."

His eyes don't leave mine and he looks for any lies visible in them, but since I'm being very honest, he senses the truth. "Oh..."

A breath of relief and exhaustion leaves his lips, he takes a step back and tastes the soup himself, maybe, to check. "Yes, it's nice." He confirms, and I try to hide my happiness but fail miserably, smiling up at his face. "I'm sorry, I haven't cooked so much in a long time so..." he laughs in a sweet manner, explaining the reason for his stressful nature, "I just kind of needed to know that I wasn't an awful chef by now."

I stop him from underestimating himself, "you're still a good chef. Don't worry, and you bake very well also." The corner of his lips curve up as I end my sentence, he puts the bowl down on the table, "thank you. I'm glad to hear that."

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