Heyyy ! It's been a long time since I last wrote, and here I am again with an idea that I've been meaning to put down on "paper" for a while. So here I am, with the first chapter of my fanfiction. It won't be a long, complicated story, as I'm just getting back into writing, but I hope you enjoy it!

I look forward to your feedback, enjoy ! ☼

(btw, English is not my first language, so sorry for all the mistakes !)

Atelophobia: (n.) The fear of imperfection, of never being good enough.

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Hongjoong was exhausted.

His youngest son, Wooyoung, had just started school a week earlier. Everything might seem normal to you? But Hongjoong had just been summoned by his new art teacher. It had taken a ten-year-old a week to do something stupid that had annoyed his new teacher - whom Hongjoong had never met - enough to call his father. And the latter was far from happy to have to stay at the primary school, after having spent an extremely boring day behind his bookseller's desk, because the headmaster had announced an immediate appointment with the teacher concerned. Fortunately - or unfortunately - Hongjoong was available that evening.

His two other adopted sons, Mingi and Yeosang, were older, aged fourteen and fifteen respectively. Mingi was at middle school, while Yeosang was starting his first year of high school. Fortunately for their poor father - because yes, according to him, he had far too many worries for his young age - the school combined primary, middle and high school. So he could pick up his three children at the same time, which made his life easier. In this case, the problem was that Hongjoong was going to have to bring his whole family to meet the new art teacher. And he apologised in advance for inconveniencing the poor man, who was certainly already unhappy with Wooyoung's attitude. Either way, that was probably the case, otherwise the father wouldn't have been called so quickly.

In conclusion, Hongjoong was sitting on a child's chair in the corridor of the primary school, accompanied by Mingi, Yeosang and Wooyoung with his head on his laps, all four of them having been waiting for a good half hour for the teacher to invite them in. The father decided to look at the children's coat racks on the walls, and especially at the photos hanging above each of them, looking for the youngest of his sons. When he found him, he couldn't help but smile inwardly, he was certain that Wooyoung hadn't really wanted to have his photo taken - his face said it word for word. Hongjoong diverted his gaze to one of the photos next to it, where he saw the exact opposite of his child's expression: this one was smiling, a real little sunshine with a dimple on each cheek. Finally, the man fixed his gaze on the largest of the coat racks, which didn't have a photo: the teacher's one, no doubt.

"What's your teacher's name again? Hongjoong asked softly.

- Teacher Park... Stammered Wooyoung."

He knew he'd made a mistake, or at least he had the impression of having made one. In fact, Hongjoong had lived with his son long enough - so far so good, you might say - to notice that it was very often unintentional. Wooyoung most likely had a hyperactive disorder, and even if Hongjoong tried his best to make him understand that what he was doing was 'wrong', while avoiding making him feel guilty, it was very difficult to control him. What's more, even though the father was doing his best, lately their financial situation wasn't the best in the world. He was lucky to have help from his parents, because looking after three children on his own was very difficult. But it was far from easy to manage on your own as a bookseller. So if he had to find a psychologist because Wooyoung was a complicated child... Unfortunately, Hongjoong couldn't deal with it, even if he would have liked to help his son as much as possible.

He sighed as he ran a hand through his blue hair, a colour he would very much like to change because his roots were really taking over, but first he had to pay all the children's school fees, that was the most important thing. Honestly, never mind for a poor old-fashioned colour. He sighed again, catching the younger boy's eye.

"Are you angry, Dad? Wooyoung panicked."

Hongjoong, surprised, met his son's gaze, which was rather worried. Was he worried because he was afraid of being argued with, or because he was afraid of disappointing his father? Maybe a bit of both. In any case, he simply ran a hand through his hair and smiled as naturally as possible. The man had no way of knowing what Wooyoung had done in the first place, so he wasn't going to hold a grudge against his son for some unknown, and who knows, non-existent, mistake. Mingi suddenly cleared his throat.

"Dad, can we go home with Yeosang? It's not that we're bored, but in fact, yes we are.

- No, Mingi darling, I can't let you go home on your own.

- But we can ask Grandma and Grandpa to come and get us... Tried the teenager before adding immediately; or Uncle?

- No buts, Mingi, we're not going to disturb your grandparents for a few minutes, or your uncle. It won't last long, I promise."

What their father couldn't say, or at least he was careful not to, was that his brother and parents were already doing a lot to help them, and he definitely couldn't afford to bother them any more. In any case, he was too ashamed to do so. He could manage well on his own too, he had adopted children, he was responsible for them.

"And yet we've already been waiting for at least thirty minutes. Yeosang replied, his eyes riveted on his phone.

- I know, boys... sighed Hongjoong."

Almost at the same moment, as if their prayers had been heard, the classroom door opened, revealing the slim figure of the famous "Master Park" with an embarrassed smile plastered on his lips. And Hongjoong had found him magnificent. The teacher's voice rose, soft and fairly low. Enough to calm someone down, even if the father had wanted to get angry, he wouldn't have been able to.

"- I apologise for keeping you waiting, please come in Mr Kim."

He directed his gaze, as well as his smile towards Mingi and Yeosang, before adding:

"I'll try to keep it short, I promise."

Wooyoung, who had already climbed down from his father's lap to approach his master, was quickly followed by the other three. Hongjoong, because of his small size, had to look up to meet the teacher's eyes, who held out his hand without losing his smile. He gladly gave it back - despite his reluctance to touch others - before quickly re-entering the rather narrow classroom. In any case, the man had to admit that Mr Park was very handsome, without a doubt.

The most surprising thing, however, was that the classroom had changed a lot since Hongjoong's last visit with the old teacher, it was more welcoming and more colourful, enough to put him in a good mood even for studying. There was even a library corner with beanbags and rugs - obviously soft - and behind that, two mattresses with a plushies tray. On the floor, a rainbow path divided the two rows of tables, and opposite all this was the teacher's desk, with a blackboard at the back representing chalk drawings of cats. 

"- San-ah!!! Wooyoung suddenly exclaimed."

Hongjoong was startled by the child's sudden scream. The latter had run to the back of the classroom at lightning speed, before pouncing on - he presumed - the one called "San-ah", who had disappeared into the beanbags after catching the full force of Wooyoung's storm.

"Wooyoungie! exclaimed Hongjoong.

He stood up sheepishly, helping the other boy to his feet. It was then that Mr Park cleared his throat, his eyes riveted on the man in front of him, who had almost forgotten the purpose of his visit. The shorter man sat up almost immediately. Hongjoong hated it when he was alone with a teacher, they always made him feel so mediocre as a father. He'd heard so many of them say that Wooyoung was poorly educated, or others insinuate that his child lacked a mother, that he'd come to believe that he was a bad father and didn't deserve to have adopted his children. He swallowed, expecting the worst.

As usual, it's just a bad time Kim Hongjoong.

"I noticed that our sons got along pretty well. Remarked the teacher. San, Yunho, be polite and say hello to Mr Kim."

Immediately, San and Yunho were on Hongjoong's right, bowing to say hello. He finally noticed that San was the famous sun-child in the photo on the coat rack. As for Yunho, he looked about the same age as Mingi or Yeosang, and despite his size he hadn't noticed him when he entered the room. The father chuckled awkwardly, because he was really looking forward to hearing what the teacher had to say, so he could finally go home.

"Ahah... hello guys... Go and play together while we talk, don't just stand there."

San was quick to respond, running off towards Wooyoung, his dimples more than visible on his cheeks as he looked so happy. As for Yunho, he introduced himself to Mingi and Yeosang, as they obviously didn't know each other, or at least didn't speak. Hongjoong turned his attention back to the man in front of him, and swallowed as he began to speak, his only desire being for it to end and for him to get past the cold sweat he could feel on his back.

"Very well, so as you know this is the first time I've taught in this town, and therefore in this establishment. And it's not unusual to see a case like Wooyoung..."

As Mr Park spoke, Hongjoong automatically started to get distracted. There were three obvious reasons for this: firstly, he didn't feel like hearing anything against him, he wasn't interested in one more sermon or one less; secondly, he was exhausted and was very inclined to fall asleep in the chair after his day's work; and thirdly, the face of the man in front of him deserved his full attention. Without being dramatic, of course. He had a slim figure and a pointed face, and if Hongjoong were to be honest, he thought his face was perfect, and at the same time as adorable as a rabbit's or a cat's. Everything about his features was just that - perfect. Everything about him was gentle, and the almost white blond hair falling in front of his forehead made him look like a prince. The man could have dwelt on what his golden glasses, perched on the tip of his nose added, but the grimace on the professor's face made him stop and his voice calling out to him snapped him out of his reverie.

"Mr Kim, have I lost you? asked the teacher.

His cheeks flushed red, he wasn't usually so easily fooled. The distant laughter of the children brought him back to reality, and why he was here.

Hongjoong, focus.

"Excuse me... Rough day. he admitted, which wasn't entirely untrue.

- I understand, so I'll make it short again. Tempered Mr Park."

Hongjoong nodded, all ears. However, there was something wrong with his tone, and the father sensed that what followed was not going to please him.

"Is your child being abused?

- Excuse me ?"

He'd never heard that one before.