Himchan had never been on a boat before he ventured to the isle across the water. Growing up near a fishing city, it would have been expected to have the sea in his veins but he didn't come from fisherfolk. He came from modest farmers just inland, he had spent long days in fields under the beating sun until his parents had decided to sell their farm and instead move into the city, abandoning Himchan to search for work across the water through the warm summer months.

The ferry pulled into dock, and the people around him began gathering their things. It had taken nearly three hours to sail from the mainland to this island, the boat surrounded by nothing but the wide expanse of water. It felt almost infinite, like the sturdy ship was a tiny ant trying to move through a world of titans, a single wrong move could have them swallowed and gone without a trace. It left Himchan's head spinning, and as he stepped once again onto land, and felt the warm heat of the sun on his tanned skin, his heartbeat calmed for the first time since they had left port.

Summer on the island was one of the most beautiful things Himchan had ever seen. It was green and soft, it held a kind of serenity that the mainland lacked, and something in the air smelled different. Fresh, new, untainted by the pollutions of the big cities. The island was a green haven that had risen from the water, the single tall volcano standing proud in the centre. The untouched landscape was dotted with small towns, looming forests curving between them and all surrounded by the ocean.

The small town Himchan was to call home was curled up at the base of the volcano like a sleeping dog beside the heat of a fire. It was not much more than a cluster of homes surrounded by forest to the west and wide fields to the east. At the edge of the town was a stone house, two floors and the largest in the area. It stood with a garden out front and backed onto wide, golden pastures of flowering Canola. The door was big and a deep brown, the curtains drawn and Himchan hiked his single bag further up onto his shoulder before he knocked politely on the door. His shoes crunched on the gravel and sweat beaded on his skin, waiting for the door to open.

Silence stretched out for a moment until the latch slowly clicked and the door was pulled carefully open. The face of a young man, no older than nineteen, peeked out cautiously. His deep black hair fell into his chocolate eyes as he looked Himchan curiously from head to toe,

“Hello.” he said simply. The door was pulled open the rest of the way and the boy carefully stepped up onto the step with bare feet. He was dressed simply in a pair of black pants and what looked like a handmade white shirt, “You must be the new farm hand.” he said, turning his head and looking back into the house, before sending the elder man a friendly smile, “I'm Jongup.”

“Himchan.” Himchan stated his name. His own dark eyes surveyed the gentle features before him. Jongup's nose was slightly hooked, but it was delicate, and his soft, pouty lips, wide eyes and fair skin made him beautiful to look upon. It was a kind of untouched, innocent beauty Himchan had never seen before, but that reminded him of the unmarred landscape that surrounded them.

“Is it true you came from the mainland?” Jongup asked, his voice full of a childlike wonder,

“I did. I come from inland.” Himchan said, hiking his bag again further up onto his shoulder so as not to drop it on the hard gravel ground. Jongup smiled and opened his mouth to respond when a stern voice came from behind him,

“Jongup-ah, enough.” A man moved up, touching his son's shoulder. Himchan straightened up,

“Sir.” he greeted, bowing deeply before standing tall again. His rusted black hair was falling into his eyes, his tanned skin shining with sweat as he looked upon his employer for the first time. Pastor Moon was tall, but not abnormally so. His hair was black and cut into a sensible style, his features stern and serious, not alike those of his son at all. Himchan didn't move, nor did his expression waver as Jongup slipped under the man's arm and disappeared into the house.

The Pastor guided Himchan to the barn at the bottom of the property, on the other side of the stretch of canola. Hay bales were stacked on the lower floor of the barn, a ladder protruding from the centre of the room and leading into a small rafter. There was a basin to wash, and a single gas lamp beside a simple palette on the floor made of layered blankets and straw. His living conditions were modest, but he needed nothing more. He was left to make himself at home.

The canola swayed in the gentle summer breeze as Jongup watched from the window by the stair. He sat on his favourite step and gazed out over the grounds, beyond the canola fields to the cows and chickens that resided at the base of the property, not far from where their land dipped into the forest. He had seen Himchan enter the barn, and then leave not long afterwards, his calloused hands brushing over the canola stems to test their strength, his almost-black hair a contrast to the sunlit gold of each individual flower. Jongup was intrigued by the new man. Each of their farm hands before had been from their town, or one neighbouring. His parents always found them through advertisements on the Church noticeboard, or through members of their congregation. Himchan, however, was new. He had come all the way from the mainland to work for them and he was unlike anyone Jongup had seen before.

“Jongup?” he heard his mother calling to him. The boy pushed himself to stand slowly, holding onto the banister and peeking down over the railing,

“Yes, Mama?” he asked,

“The ladies in town said it is to rain tonight, so you can't sleep with the cows again.” she said, standing at the base of the stairwell and smiling to her youngest child, “Now come and wash up, dear. Your brother should be here from the city soon.”

“I slept with the cows last night, Mama. I don't sleep in their pasture two nights in a row.” Jongup spoke as he walked down the stairs, his mother gently carding her fingers through his black hair and wiping something from his cheek,

“Last week you slept in the Canola the night after you slept with the cows.” she said, guiding him to where she was drawing him a bath,

“That's not the same as sleeping in the cows pasture two nights in a row, though, Mama.” he spoke gently, tilting his head to the side.

“The farm boy is sleeping in the barn while he is here.” Mama Moon tucked his hair behind his ear as he started to peel off his clothing for his bath, “After we eat, I'll send you down to bring him his food, hm?” she said with a smile. Jongup nodded, flicking his hair from his eyes.

“Okay, Mama.” he said. He washed quickly, and helped his Mama cook dinner. It didn't take long for it to be on the table, and for the three of them to eat what had been prepared. As he cleared their plates, Mama Moon made a small basket of rice and meat, as well as some left over vegetables and hooked it over her son's arm. He trudged down over the green grass around the canola field to where the barn lay. It was illuminated by small oil lamps, one by the door and two inside. He looked up at the large structure as it loomed ahead, the rafters looking dark and formidable, even though warm light shone like a comforting beacon from the door. He thought this Himchan from the mainland must be very brave to not be afraid of sleeping alone in the dark, creaky barn.

Jongup did not have the confidence and pride his elder brothers possessed. Both of them always walked with an air of certainty, always knowing just the right way to behave, and always showing a kind of dominance as they entered the room. He himself was not like that. He was shy, and sometimes nervous. His mind was filled with dreams and fascination for the wider world, but he never left the small farm on which he lived because there he was content to explore with an independence his parents would not allow them away from their sanctuary. Himchan's arrival on their property had been a cause for great excitement in his heart, because he had never met someone who came from the mainland that held such mystery to him.

Carefully he peeked into the barn. The hay stacks were built high around the edges, like the square turrets of a fairytale castle, and the oil lamps caused their shadows to stretch far across the floor. He watched silently as Himchan emerged from behind a straw tower, his body freshly washed and glistening with water that was yet to dry. The man rose a hand to push his almost-black hair from his eyes, his bronzed skin almost glowing in the warm light. There was something unusual about the man's features. He was beautiful in a way that lacked effeminacy, and instead the regal slope of his nose and rounded purse of his lips held a masculine maturity. His hair wasn't long, just long enough to fall somewhat into his eyes whenever he looked down, which appeared to bother the man, as he continued to brush it aside with calloused fingers.

Himchan turned to face the door, leaning down to grab a cloth from on top of his bag, using it to dry the remaining droplets of water that shone from his chest and arms, his muscles toned from frequent use working his fields. He was built with the strength of a farm hand, but he was unlike the others that worked around the island.

Jongup was startled from his thoughts when Himchan's head rose and their eyes connected, his cheeks flushing as he was caught,

“Jongup-ssi.” Himchan voiced in greeting, straightening up and surveying the shy expression on the younger's face. The boy shuffled further towards the door, swallowing hard as he held out the basket,

“Mama gave me this..” he said, but did not move forward from where he stood, shy to move closer. The man's head tilted to the side as he surveyed the boy before him, straightening his form to where he stood taller than the younger. Himchan's smile held warmth as he stepped closer,

“Thank you, Jongup-ssi. Your mother is very kind.” he said, taking the basket that was held out to him. He did not peek inside, setting it atop one of the neighbouring bales as he carefully dried the remaining droplets of water from his shoulders and back, before dropping the cloth back to his luggage.

“Himchan-ssi is that your bed?” Jongup asked, his lips turned into a frown, his eyes looking at the palette laying upon the dirty floor. Himchan glanced at the bed from where he stood, starting to unpack the food that had been brought to him, taking his first bite of the fragrant home-cooking.

“It is.” he responded. His eyes were curious as he witnessed the odd youngest son of his pastor host. It was obvious even to him how sensitive Jongup was. He emitted an air of kindness, and a gentleness Himchan had not seen in many years, since he had last felt the kindness of his once loving mother.

“Himchan-ssi... It does not look comfortable.” Jongup's voice was riddled with concern as he made the statement, and it caused the farm boy to smile. “My bed in the house is cozy and comfy.. You should have something cozy and comfy, too.”

“Don't you worry about me, Jongup-ssi.” Himchan replied, “Young Pastor's sons need cozy and comfy beds. Farm boys are happy to sleep in the barn.”

“But Himchan-ssi.. Aren't you scared to sleep in the barn? It's so big, and so dark.” There was something endearing, to Himchan, about the way Jongup repeated his name. As though he was testing the shape, the weight of the word upon his tongue.

“I like the barn. I like how quiet it is, and how it smells of hay, and of the Canola.” Himchan said, looking out of the door and onto the growing crop not far from where they stood. The setting sun was casting a soft glow over the golden flowers, making them look even more radiant.

“I love the Canola.” Jongup said, his eyes sliding over the delicate flowers, “It looks almost like God planted the rays of the sun in the earth, and they grow and shine like a field of precious gold.” Dark clouds were rolling in overhead, but they did nothing to smother the glow of the crop before them. Jongup turned his head and looked back at Himchan. Their eyes connected and they stood there in silence, until a roll of thunder broke them apart.

“Himchan-ssi-” Jongup started, but Himchan shook his head as he tucked the empty bowls back into the basket Jongup had brought for him.

“Please, Jongup-ssi. You don't have to speak to me with such a formal tone. I do work for your father, after all.” Himchan said with a chuckle, covering the bowls once again with the tea-towel. Jongup nodded his head,

“I shall call you Himchan-hyung, then.” the boy spoke. The farm hand did not expect such a familiar title, but he felt his lips curving into an involuntary smile.

“It will rain soon. It's best you go back to the house, so you don't get wet.” He said, holding out the basket again. Jongup nodded,

“Rest well, Himchan-hyung!” his smile was radiant as he took the basket and set off across the grass, leaving Himchan to watch after him.

That night the rain fell harder than it had since spring. The storm clouds rolled in from over the volcano and blocked out the sun, ending the drawn out sunlight of a summer evening. Himchan stood just inside the barn doors with a cigarette perched between his lips. The air was warm and muggy even as the rain washed over the land, but Himchan had hope that the morning would be fresh, and the soil would be rich. He took in a deep drag as he watched the rain fall, before flicking the into the mud and retiring to sleep.

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A/N thank you for reading. The title is the song Wild by Troye Sivan.