Wind ruffles his black hair, a comfortable breeze settling over his shoulders, over his back. It's natural, easy like this. Up in the clouds, watching the miniscule dots of civilization move, watching the green of the grass change with each ripple of air. 

Jongin likes flying. 

He's known this since he was small. From the second he'd gotten the first toy broom, from the moment he'd watched his mom zip across the sky as a child, it was sealed: he wanted to fly far away. 

He didn't know where. But he did know he wanted to see the ocean, that he wanted to go somewhere bigger; he wanted to smell salt in the air, wanted to watch people bustle through life.

But most of all, he wanted to go out for himself, just him and his broom and Mongmong. He wanted to watch the stars twinkle from up close, wanted to think of his mom in a fond, distant way, and he wanted to discover what is out there, waiting for him. 

He still wants that, really. 

But his mom is so careful, so protective. She doesn't think he's really ready to go out and discover his abilities. She doesn't believe he can make it for an entire year on his own. Most of all, Jongin thinks, she doesn't want him to leave. 

He sighs, tanned hands moving to open his black bag. He needs the time -- not that Mongmong will help, he realizes, watching her sleep peacefully inside. After struggling to avoid the puppy waking up, his phone is finally in his hand, time reading 11:03 a.m. 

Jongin scrambles to throw his phone back in the bag unceremoniously, forgetting his sleeping dog for a moment. He's late, really late. 

The calm breeze suddenly feels too abrasive as he guides the broom back home, adrenaline pumping the entire way. On the way home he hears a ring from his bag and suddenly there's a yelp from Mongmong, too. Jongin thinks she must be irritated from being woken up and frowns slightly.

But then the thumping beat of his ringtone blasts through the whirring air again, reminding him that he is in deep , and a tired puppy is the least of his worries. 

He sighs heavily as he finally reaches home, dropping off his broom with only a few feet left until the ground. He swiftly grabs the broom from where it's about to fall, securing his belongings and the broom in one quick step. Jongin likes to think he's agile, that he's a natural aviator -- that maybe he's so good at light jumps and graceful steps because he was born to do it. 

Halfway between propping his broom on the side of the house and opening the door, a hand stops him. He looks up, taking in the rectangular glasses and soft wrinkles surrounding dark eyes. His dad looks tired in a kind, natural way, the way only someone who's been specializing in potions for almost thirty years can. 

"Mom's pretty annoyed, Jongin," his dad warns with a stern look. Jongin furrows his brows and watches Mongmong jump out of the bag and onto the green grass, sprinting away after a bunny. He wishes he could be like the little black dog, care and responsibility free. 

"I didn't mean to be late --" Jongin's cut off by the wag of his dad's finger, a kind way of telling him to be quiet. 

"Tell your mom that. You know how she gets." 

He decides the best plan to avoid getting in trouble is to sneak up behind his mom, giving her a hug before tugging on an apron. Half of it works because she naturally leans towards him, but he's thwarted with a smack to his hand as he reaches for an apron. 

"Oh, now you're home? And now you want to help me? I see." 

He pouts as cutely as he can muster, hoping that it isn't too obvious he was just flying. His mom knows he loves it, knows he flies away all the time, but she still doesn't approve of it. She thinks it's distracting and unnecessary -- both his parents deal in potions, and their customers come to them. Why would Jongin want to leave? 

He can't say her logic doesn't make sense. He knows if he had only one child, he'd prevent them from spending their year away so soon. But, Jongin thinks pitifully, he's almost eighteen. He's long overdue to explore. 

"I just lost track of time! I'm here now, and I'll work past my shift, okay?" Jongin smiles coyly, knowing his mom is vulnerable to his smiles. She glares for a moment before whacking his head softly and moving past him, towards the back room. 

"I'm going to brew some more. You watch the front counter," she instructs before disappearing through an opening. 

Jongin sighs and sits, waiting for a customer or a disturbance or anything more interesting than this. He can't help it--the shop is boring. Even with vibrant colors and blooming flowers lining the walls, with hundreds upon hundreds of vials scattered about, it looks like junk to Jongin. He can't help but think that potions are a sad line of work for him. He's not good at cooking, was never an amazing chemist, and hates the stench of most ingredients. 

Resting his head on his palm, he zones out, watching the birds fly in the sky outside. He can see his dad driving away over a hill, off to buy ingredients or talk to friends. Jongin can't help but wonder how far his dad's driven out there. How far would he have to go before he saw the ocean, before he didn't recognize anything around him? 

The very thought sends chills down his spine in an excited way, as if he really was floating above a city full of people dashing around. Girls in short dresses with colored hair, men with fancy suits on, carrying briefcases. He thinks of the children, running around on short legs in busy streets, giggling as their parents chase them down.

Then his mind drifts farther, to a place where the ocean laps at the land, where Mongmong is running around and there is soft music playing somewhere distant. He can hear his own breathing, can feel the fading light heating up his skin. All is quiet; the sun is setting now. Jongin feels at peace. 

And then a bell rings -- wait, no it doesn't. Not on the beach. Only on the door to the shop. 

Jongin looks up suddenly, trance broken. He blushes all the way up to his ears at being caught zoning out. 

"Welcome to Kim Potions," he greets. Then he recognizes the old woman slowly making her way through the doorway and relaxes. "Grandma Cho, you're back?" 

She smiles her wrinkly smile, eyes crinkling into lines. "Yes, I need a refill for some of my medicinal potions. Your mother makes the best ones, I'll tell you." 

"I'll get her," Jongin offers, trotting back to the back room. He pushes the vines and flower buds out of the way, peeking around the corner into the smoky, purple-tinted room. "Mom! Grandma Cho is here." 

"Refill?" he hears her ask back. The sound of her setting something down rings through and suddenly the room is tinted a warm orange. There's a faint strawberry scent wafting out now, too, and Jongin scrunches his nose a little. 

"Yeah." 

In less than a minute his mom is back in the front of the shop, talking up a storm with Grandma Cho about what hurts, if she wants tea, and how her grandkids are. Jongin zones out again watching the multicolored smoke flit up from incense placed on the counter, how the trails of green and yellow mix until they are colored vibrant red. Nothing makes sense, Jongin thinks, but that's how it always is at the shop. 

"They're doing so well. You wouldn't believe it. I'm not magical at all, but my son, he married a witch, and my little granddaughter has powers. So she just left for her year two days ago." 

Jongin's been studying a fuzzy plant, but he perks up at this instantly. 

"Really?" his voice comes out as disbelieving. Grandma Cho is old, but not that old. "How old is she?" 

Jongin notices how his mom tenses up a little. He knows he might be pushing it, but he's also so curious. Why should he be the only person who has to wait this long? 

"Let's see. . ." Grandma Cho smiles fondly, nodding. "She's going to be twelve this spring." 

Jongin's eyebrows shoot up and he spares a poignant look to his mom. She looks back sternly and he mouths 'eleven' as his only response. Grandma Cho seems to notice the exchange and she extends a warm hand to hold Jongin's wrist. 

"Why hasn't Jongin gone out yet? I think he'd do well out there. A strong, tall, handsome boy like him!" she says in a fond way, squeezing his wrist encouragingly. Jongin blushes at the compliments, smiling down at her with blatant affection. Jongin's mom stiffens more, shaking her head a little. 

"He's going to carry on the potion shop anyway, why waste time?" 

"No, no, I was talking to my daughter-in-law about this. It's not wasting time! They get to see what they're really interested in. It's very good." 

Jongin's mom flushes red, obviously embarrassed to have her decision questioned. Jongin doesn't think he's ever loved Grandma Cho more than he does in this moment, doesn't think he ever will. 

"Well," she starts again, definitely flustered. "I don't know if he'd be confident in doing that. He's always been a little shy, you know that." 

Grandma Cho shakes her head, raising Jongin's hand up to her face to inspect. "Jongin is a kind boy, and he wants to learn more than anything. I think he deserves a little bit more faith. I'd be happy if I knew he was out there at the same time as my granddaughter." 

Jongin feels her tug on his fingers slightly. He notices his mom's gaze drop down to watch the old woman. "He has soft eyes and strong hands; that's a good combination, you know. I think he should get a chance." 

Jongin's heart is racing at the look in his mom's eyes, the realization washing over her in waves. He feels something blossom deep in his chest, enough of a twinge to make his lips quirk up. He recognizes it suddenly as hope. 

He might be able to fly to the sea, to watch the city come to life in front of his eyes. This is all he'd ever wanted, and here it was, at the edge of his fingertips. He looks down at his fingertips again, held by Grandma Cho's aged hands, a soft serenity jumping between them. 

Then she lets go suddenly, one last squeeze to Jongin's thumb, and collects her potions and hobbles her way towards the door, promising to be back within a few weeks. Jongin's stomach churns as she leaves. He's nervous to see what his mom will say after all of this, but most of all he's worried that maybe this talk will get his broom taken away. Maybe he'd hoped too soon. 

But when he meets her eyes, all he receives is a stern look. Jongin sighs now, hope draining out of his chest as if his mom had cut a hole in it. 

"Your father and I will talk about this later, Jongin." 

--

Two nights later, Jongin is sitting there. On his broom. In his best black slacks and shirt, his mother's ruby pendant necklace tucked in. He's shaky, sweaty, but he's ready. 

Apparently when his mom had brought it up, his dad had agreed readily. He'd always thought Jongin needed to go, needed to explore, but didn't want to cause a conflict or stress the mother-son relationship any further. 

Jongin swallows thickly, watching the wind curl around the trees in front of him. Soon he'd be up there, next to the stars, headed toward his home for the next year. He'd never in a million years thought he'd really get to go. And now he's trembling with anticipation and fear. 

He's supposed to have a big party -- a going away speech, a cake, a big send-off. But since all of his friends had gone when they were twelve or thirteen, they were long gone in their respective careers and cities. A few had returned after the year dead-set on staying at home and continuing the family business, but most had left already. It left Jongin only his mom, dad, Grandma Cho, and a few almost-forgotten schoolmates.

He waves one last time at the group before he kicks off, gliding so naturally into the air that for a second it feels like one of those times he'd sneak out early in the morning to go on a ride. But now, he can hear his mom sniffling and some quiet laughter from the group as they all scream their goodbyes. 

He spares a last glance at his home, at his family, watching the vivid smoke roll out of the chimney and the lingering kiss his dad places on his mom's cheek. He knows that she's sad, but he can't get over how happy he feels. The possibility of the entire world is out there, and he knows he has to taste some of it. 

Soon he's too high in the air to make out any details besides the vague shape of his house and the shop. This is it. This is really it. He opens up his bag gingerly from it's place dangling around the broom to spare a look at Mongmong. She barks up at him, happily wagging her tail in a way that says she's excited too. 

"Breathe, Jongin, breathe," he tells himself, watching his tanned hands shake a little in the moonlight. He smiles at the thought of what might be out there, and tells himself to just keep flying until he sees the ocean. He can do that. 

-- 

When he spots the blue push and pull of waves in front of him, his stomach lurches. He'd never seen it, not in real life. This was the first time to see the actual ocean, to study the light and dark spots, the vastness of it all. He thinks he might actually throw up when he realizes how big it all is. But then he's looking to the right, watching a clock tower ring out six times. It's six a.m. 

The sun is starting to rise and the pink hues are turning the ocean coral. Jongin is breathless. 

He's not close enough to the ocean or the city to see much for certain, yet he already knows that something is there. There is something waiting for him. This is where he must go. 

"Mongmong," Jongin whispers. The puppy is out of the bag in an instant, perched confidently on edge of the broom. "How about here?" 

He only gets excited yaps in response and he nods, steering them towards the city. A few minutes later, they're close enough that he can fly through the streets if he tried. They're at the edge of the city, but he can tell it's large and in an hour it will be full of citizens. Something about the electricity of this many people being around zips through his veins, even if they're all still asleep. 

Each street has a sign on the corner, telling the name. They're all foreign to Jongin, but he likes the way they look, the cursive letters and expensive-sounding names setting curiosity aflame in his chest.

He's figured out that most people here live in apartments, not houses, and that each balcony belongs to a different person. Some have chairs, some have tables, some have elaborate floral displays. Jongin spots one so full of flower pots and hanging plants that he fears it might break off the hinges -- it brings a memory of his mother, of the crazy patterns her flowers grew in. 

Someone leaves their house to take out some trash and spots Jongin in the air, mouth falling open. Jongin smiles and waves as confidently as he can, a pleasant feeling spreading in his stomach at the stunned little wave he earns in return. He zips away then, curiosity piquing at the way the streets widen up ahead.

About a minute later, he lands softly on the top of a cobblestone hill, finally, and stretches out. Mongmong jumps out, too, and uses the stop as an excuse to sniff everything in sight. He looks around curiously, noting that the ocean can be seen from up here and that there are multiple shops surrounding him. He swallows spit gathering in his mouth as he realizes they're all restaurants. It's been hours since he last ate. 

And just then, an extremely tall boy walks out of the shop closest to him. He whips around to make eye contact, smiling shyly.

Said boy has wide shoulders and is visibly well-built, almost too toned to work at a bakery, Jongin thinks. He's a little scary. But then the boy smiles at him and nods in his direction, a silent greeting, and he thinks that maybe he's not that bad. The boy puts something into the mailbox next to him swiftly. 

"Hello," Jongin says. He hopes that they speak the same language. He hopes he doesn't have an accent. He hopes this boy thinks witches are cool. 

"Hi," the boy nods curtly again, spinning on his heel to retreat back into the bakery. Jongin winces, knowing that he's going to look like an idiot, but he can't really avoid it. He follows the boy, broom in hand, and stops cautiously outside of the bakery as the taller continues to walk in. 

"Excuse me," Jongin pipes up. The boy turns around quickly, seemingly frightened at the fact that Jongin had followed. "I'm Kim Jongin. I'm a witch, and I'm doing my year --" 

"Aren't you a little old for that?" 

Jongin finds out quickly that this boy can scrutinize him effectively just through facial expressions.

"I --" Jongin blushes beet red. Maybe he should've stayed home. "I, uh, yeah I am a little old for that. It's a long story." 

The boy watches him with unwavering eyes, nodding more, waiting for more explanation. 

"Do you have any left over food? I'm really hungry; I already ate the lunch I packed on the ride here," Jongin feels like a beggar. He almost smacks himself when he realizes he left off the most important part. "I can work to pay you back." 

The boy nods slowly and ushers Jongin inside, broom and all. Jongin turns around quickly, searching for Mongmong, and spots her bounding back up the hill towards him. 

"Pets allowed?" Jongin asks, sounding almost guilty. The boy laughs a little and nods, watching the puppy hop over the threshold and into the bakery. The boy nods towards a lit fireplace and, more specifically, to a small gray dog curled in a ball by it. Pets definitely allowed, Jongin notes. 

"Junmyeon!" the boy screams out. Jongin jumps a little, hunger and fatigue making him anxious. He can hear feet thudding down the steps and towards them, making his heart stutter a little in fear of being rejected and thrown outside. 

He takes these few seconds to look around the light brown and cream interior. He studies the sleek tables, the pretty paintings hanging on the walls, and the flowers on the counter. Jongin thinks he'll like this place, if he's allowed to work here at all. 

"What?" Junmyeon says, hopping down the last step. He's in a white t-shirt and boxers and, suddenly, Jongin feels as if he's intruding because, oops, they live here too. 

Junmyeon seems to feel the same way because he hops almost two feet into the air in shock when it's not just the boy in the bakery. He lets out a startled sound and moves to hide himself behind the taller, wider boy. 

"Who's this?" Junmyeon whispers, but Jongin can hear it. It's too quiet this early in the morning, and the bakery is too empty, for it to be ignored. 

"Uh, this is Kim Jongin. He's a witch on his year -- I know he looks old, but he said he'd tell me more later -- and he needs to eat." 

At that, Junmyeon perks up, looking around the boy's shoulder to make eye contact with Jongin for the first time, awkwardly smiling. 

"And I can work to pay you back," Jongin reminds, smiling at the tall boy again in a pleading way.

"What can you do?" Junmyeon asks, taking a half-step out from behind the boy to have a decent conversation. "Do you know how to bake? Knead dough? Serve tables?" 

Jongin's mind turns blank because, no, he really can't do any of that. 

"I can learn?" he offers, but the look on Junmyeon's face is less than impressed. The tallest boy nudges him slightly, eyebrows quirking up oddly. Jongin watches in wonder. Is buff guy on his side? 

"I saw Jongin fly in, " the boy points out, actually reaching to grab the broom from Jongin's hands. "He could deliver for us, Myeon." 

"Sehun. . ." Junmyeon trails off; Jongin recognizes suddenly that this is the tall boy's name. "I don't know, we can't really afford to pay someo --" 

"That's it, though! Jongin," Sehun turns, nodding. "All you want is food and a place to sleep, right?" 

Jongin nods enthusiastically, so hard his neck hurts a little. "All I need is food, really. I can sleep outside!" 

Junmyeon shakes his head equally as violently at that.

"No one is sleeping outside," he affirms. "If that's really all you need, that's fine. We have a spare room and could use some help running deliveries." 

Jongin smiles brightly, almost jumping in joy. The anxiety pooled in his stomach is now dissolving into pure hunger, but there's nothing painful about it. He knows that he can trust Sehun. And he knows that he can trust Sehun to convince Junmyeon. 

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! Thank you so much!" Jongin is bowing, heart thumping.

Sehun laughs a little and Junmyeon scuttles toward the stairs again, obviously headed to get dressed. Jongin watches with wide eyes as Sehun guffaws even louder, hitting Junmyeon's with a loud smack. Jongin feels like he's intruding again because, oops, maybe they're more than just bakery co-owners. 

"Sehun, stop it and give him some food!" 

--

Jongin has learned what time to get up to help Junmyeon knead dough (though he's little help) and what time he should start sweeping the floor of the bakery and cleaning the tables, preparing for it to open. He has a schedule.

It has a tiny, albeit loyal, customer base. Jongin gets used to seeing the same people walk in and out, delivering to the same companies, and saying hello to the same mothers on his daily ride past a daycare. It feels familiar. And Jongin knows how to fly, knows how to get orders there so quickly that people are shocked.

Junmyeon says he does a great job, and Sehun, who spends most of his time carefully decorating pastries, thanks him for buying him a few more minutes to make each pastry "truly beautiful." Jongin has his own little room with a bed and a big window that he can watch the ocean out of. He likes to leave it open and smell the salt drift over at night; he likes to hear the sounds of people giggling and running down the street. Jongin likes it here, specifically.

For once Jongin feels like he has a purpose: to deliver, to make others smile, to help out. No potions involved. It's all he's ever wanted, really, and it comes naturally. Each day is like perfect clockwork, a gleeful daze, familiar and comforting. 

And that's why the three boys who walk in unexpectedly one day stand out so much to him. Their unfamiliarity shocks him. 

At least that's what he tells himself, although he knows that it's everything about smallest boy sitting in the corner. Jongin gulps hard as Junmyeon takes their order, watching the shortest boy push his glasses up his nose, big sweater almost enveloping his fingers when he does it.

Everything about him is enchanting. He's short and quiet, with closely cropped hair and round glasses and perfect lips. He doesn't smile a lot, but it makes Jongin feel as though his smiles are more precious, more beautiful. He wants to watch one form, wants to be the reason for a smile. 

Jongin sits in the opposite corner of the bakery, next to the two dogs, rolling napkins into a perfect fold, just like Junmyeon wanted them, and staring at the boy. He thinks he's being discreet, really, but then the tallest of the group turns to look him straight in the eyes and smirk. 

Jongin drops a napkin and curses at himself because, damn it, he has to wash that now. He curses a little bit more because now it's obvious that he was watching the group. The second tallest (although, Jongin notes, he's still several inches shorter than the tallest) turns, too, smiling fondly and shaking his head. 

Jongin waits with bated breath for the smallest to react, but he stays silent, sipping on coffee and ignoring Jongin's existence. It shouldn't make him swoon, but it does. He's cool and mysterious and so beautiful. Jongin looks away, blushing profusely, and stands to go into the kitchen if only to avoid the stares of the other two boys. 

Jongin laments over his complete and utter lack of flirting skills as he watches Junmyeon bake. He has a clear view of the counter, but not the corner, which he's eternally grateful for. But then the unthinkable happens: the trio decides to pay as they leave. 

Jongin watches in horror as they gather around Sehun at the counter, the tallest finding bills in his wallet. He makes direct eye contact with the shortest boy and realizes his eyes are huge, and dark brown, and gorgeous. He can barely manage to look away without feeling like a complete weirdo, but he makes it look as though he's busy kneading dough instead. 

Junmyeon looks at him suspiciously, swatting his hands with a mumbled 'don't ruin that dough.' 

"Who's the tall, tan guy who works here?" tallest boy asks in an extremely deep, intimidating voice. Jongin wants to cry a little, knowing that he's the tan guy. 

"Jongin?" Sehun asks, shock evident in his tone. He spins around to raise his eyebrows at Jongin, as if asking if he'd done anything bad. Jongin smiles weakly back, regretting even looking at the group when they'd walked in, and, most of all, regretting every second he'd admired the smallest since.

"Ah, Jongin," middle height boy speaks up, voice high and clearly teasing. "Is he not a waiter? He didn't come see us." 

Jongin is aware that they're trying to bug him, and suddenly he's busier than ever with the pie crusts. Maybe if he acts like he doesn't know what they're teasing him about, they won't exist. Maybe he won't exist. 

"No, Jongin's our delivery boy." 

This seems to strike a chord between the two taller boys, if their shared look of glee is any indication. 

"I see! Well, that's convenient!" middle boy laughs a little as he says it, wrapping an arm around the shortest. "Isn't that great, Soo?" 

Jongin glances up, interest in the boy's response overwhelming. He wants to see how Soo will react. Soo. What a pretty name, he thinks. 

Soo doesn't utter a word. Instead, he pushes the other's arm off of him, moving towards the door, shaking his head. Jongin watches the way his cheeks turn a little pink, as though the middle boy was embarrassing. At least he was aware of what jerks his friends are, Jongin thinks almost proudly.

The boy leaves the restaurant with a small ding of the bell above the door, hopping on a bicycle and pushing his glasses up again. Jongin's heart falters a little at how cute it is. It also falters a lot because the two other boys giggle as they leave, shouting "See you soon, Jongin!" in unison. 

--

first chapter! I'm gonna plan this out so it's only a three-shot! short and quick! so i've just finished my chanbaek fic and .... now here we are!!!!! hahaksdjf

anyway yeah... i've been toying with the idea of a modern kiki's delivery service au for awhile??... i've just never written it. so here's the first little chunk lol 

hope you guys enjoyed? it might take me a day or two to finish up the second part (if anyone wants it lmao) 

vote, subscribe, comment, etc if you'd like! thank you for reading!!!