Himchan always loved morning the most. He rose with the sun each morn, hearing the crow from the crowded coup to signal the coming of day. Heavy feet pressed into the soft green grass as he circled the canola, a tool belt on his waist and a bucket of feed in his hand. He had to venture to the bottom of the property at the edge of the forest to fix a fence post that kept the cows separate from the canola and prevented the precious crop from being devoured by the hungry beasts. In the prosperity of summer, silage was stacked by the edge of the pasture to provide for an oncoming winter, and the brown tips of the drying grass were not enough to keep the kind cows happy and fully satisfied.

Chooks clucked as Himchan tossed seed through the fence, a smouldering cigarette perched between his chapped lips as he watched the animals flutter and race to eat their morning meal. He dropped the bucket and stood back, a hand raising and two calloused fingers closing around the burning between his lips. He exhaled a lungful of smoke and turned his head to survey the fence he was to repair, snorting as he noticed the two cows laying together in the nearest corner of their open field, a pair of feet sticking out from between where they lay. He stepped over closer and leant his forearms against the wooden enclosure. Jongup's features were soft in sleep, his lips slightly parted as he lay clothed on a blanket. The ground was hard and dirty, but the boy looked content pressed between the two animals he obviously loved so dearly.

Sangchu released a soft sound, her head turning and her wet nose nudging into Jongup's cheek, before she shifted on the grass, her tail swishing to shoo away the irritation of flies. Tendrils of smoke rose through the air while Himchan watched, seeing how Jongup's eyes fluttered open and he smiled at the animal who disturbed his slumber. A soft, white hand lifted and down her snout,

“Hello, pretty lady. Did you sleep well?” he asked, kissing her nose, before turning his head to greet Danggeun much the same way, laughing softly to himself as the beast rose with a bovine grunt to conquer the greener grass across the pasture.

“What would your Father say if he knew you were sleeping with animals like a farm boy.” Himchan spoke, watching as Jongup's tired eyes found him and widened, pushing himself to sit up with an arm slung over Sangcu's broad back,

“My Mama and Papa know I like sleeping out here. I don't want the girls to get lonely.” he said, smiling as he lifted a hand to rub the sleep from his eyes, “Besides, if I was to sleep like a farm boy I would sleep in the barn like you.” His smile was radiant, his head tilting to the side as he heard Himchan laugh and watched him take another drag of the cigarette still held between his digits,

“And we can't have that. You're the son of a pastor, not a cowhand. You deserve soft mattresses and cotton sheets, not a scratchy blanket on the dirty ground.” His tone was kind, his gaze not leaving Jongup as Sangchu moved from under Jongup's arm, her stunningly huge form rising from the ground to follow her counterpart across the grass. Jongup smiled as he pushed himself up,

“No one can become a man while being pampered, Himchan-hyung.” he said, dusting off his dirty clothing, “I am sleeping in the fields like a strong bull.” He rose his arms, flexing his bicep muscles which showed as nothing. Himchan's laughter was loud and his smile affectionate,

“You're no bull, Jongup-ssi. You're more akin to a mouse.” he said, just as the boy carefully climbed up onto the fence. He perched on the precarious post Himchan was to mend, his head tilting to the side,

“A mouse? I am not!” he said, his lips pursed into a pout, “If I'm not a bull, then at least I am a stag!”

“Not quite a stag yet.” Himchan spoke, “You are still a fawn, but I am sure one day you will grow to be just like a stag.”

“Yes! Just like a strong stag that leads a herd.” Jongup nodded with a smile. Himchan's eyes followed the way his lips curved and a light was brought to his eyes. He had never before seen a person who's smile could make flowers grow. “I wonder if I will find a beautiful doe once I am a stag.” he said, humming at the thought, “One day I want to fall in love like Mongryong fell in love with Chunhyang at first sight. I want to feel how he did when he rode all the way across the country to find her again.” he sighed, his head filled with fairy tales of love and devotion.

“Real love is very different to fairy tale love, Jongup-ssi.” Himchan spoke with his lips secured around the of his nearly finished cigarette, his voice filled with an affectionate amusement. Jongup's pout once again pursed his full, soft lips, a sigh passing between them for the briefest of moments,

“One day I want to feel real love, Himchan-hyung.” he said with a decisive nod, “I want to feel how Chunhyang felt when Mongryong came to find her again, don't you?”

“I am sure I shall find love more likened to the woodcutter who falls for a Sunnyeo” He chuckles softly,

“But, Himchan-hyung, the woodcutter makes mistakes. He isn't able to follow the Sunnyeo and he becomes a rooster.” the boy turned and looked to the coup, his eyes sad as he looks at the rooster standing with his hens, “I get sad when I hear him crowing to his lost love every morning.” he said.

“Does being a rooster not become a farm boy?” Himchan smiled, “I would feel at home in the coup crowing to welcome the sun.” The much elder man dropped the of his cigarette into the dirt and pressed into it with his heel to distinguish the slow burn.

“Himchan-hyung what does it feel like to inhale the smoke?” The post he perched on was growing more unstable under his weight,

“It burns the throat, and calms your body. It can weaken your lungs, though. Smoking is not a good practice, Jongup-ssi.” Himchan stated as he at his dry lips. Jongup leant forward slightly,

“May I try one? Please?” he asked, his eyes filled with the innocent curiosity that he saw the world with. Himchan just smiled and shook his head,

“No, Jongup-ssi.” Himchan replied after less than a moment.

“But why? You enjoy smoking, maybe I will too!”

“Your lungs are far too precious to be damaged by something as unworthy as a cigarette.” Himchan stated,

“Unworthy?” Jongup asked, tilting his head with curiosity.

“Unworthy to touch your lips, Jongup-ssi.” Himchan responded, causing the boy's cheeks to flush like a morning rose, shifting on the post and causing the wooden pyre to dislodge from the drying soil. It tipped forward and Jongup released a sound of surprise.

The farm boy did not hesitate a moment before he was stepping forward to catch the boy in his strong arms. When the post landed with a thud, Jongup was safe against Himchan's broad chest, his eyes closed tightly, and his fingers curling around the strong biceps that held him close. Himchan lowered the boy to his feet and smiled at his shy flush. Jongup swallowed,

“M-maybe you are more like a bull, Himchan-hyung. You are strong like one.” he said softly,

“A bull to keep the little fawn from harm.”

*

Summer always passed with a speed that rivalled that of a swooping swallow. There was something on the air, the scent of carefree happiness, and of relaxation that came with the beating sun and the long days. Himchan's days in the field were always stretched, nothing telling him how many hours had passed but the sun crossing the sky, and taking with it the days of June. It was days until July when he was invited to dine at the Pastor's table in celebration of the feast of St. Peter, the first Pope. He had ill been in a position to decline such an offer, so he agreed to a time.

The sun was still high in the sky as Himchan washed and dressed, picking dirt from under his nails and making a frail attempt to flatten his hair as best he could. He stepped around the crop and made his way over the modest garden at the back of the house, stepping up to the back door and knocking. The middle of the pastor's three son's opened with a stoic expression, welcoming the farm boy into their home. Himchan removed his shoes and wiped his hands on his pants, bowing to those he saw, before he was guided to the dining room.

The home was filled with a warm chatter. He could see the Pastor's wife, and Jonghwan's fiancée in the kitchen, Jongup helping them as they prepared a delicious dinner to share between all who were there. However none of the men in the room made any attempt to speak to him as he stood where he was, taking this chance to survey the home surrounding him.

Books lined the shelves covering every subject under the sun. Law, theology, sciences, art. An Atlas sat at the very edge of a shelf, and Himchan brushed his fingers over the spine of the tome, the leather binding rough under his fingers, “My grandfather gave it to me.” Pastor Moon spoke from behind the farm boy. He turned his head and bowed deeply, pulling his hand from where it touched what he had not been given permission to lay fingers to.

“It looks beautiful, Father.” he said, stepping from the shelves. His eyes gazed over the beautifully laid table, before moving over to instead look to the Piano by the window. A hallway disappeared to the left, leading to what he assumed must be a living room and maybe a study, and a staircase broke off to the right. It was a beautiful home, and he spoke such a compliment to the man before him, “Your home is beautiful.”

“Thank you, Himchan-ssi.” the man stated as he lead himself to take a seat, “Are there many homes such as this on the mainland? I haven't been off the island for many years.” The pastor watched as Himchan's head turned, his eyes gazing back into the kitchen and watching the movements of the youngest on the property, who's lips were spread into that seemingly always present smile.

“None like this that I have seen in a long time, Father. Even the farm houses are smaller, mostly made of wood rather than stone.” Himchan's tone was polite, his gaze breaking away from the kitchen to return to his host, “I live in the city for most of the year, sir. So I do not see many houses at all.”

It was then that Jongup stepped into the dining room and smiled, his hand made shirt hanging loose from his body, “Himchan-hyung!” he said in a cheery greeting, the farm boy needing to suppress his smile as he bowed,

“Hello, Jongup-ssi.” he stated, moving to take his own seat, across from where Jongup was seated. Food was laid out before them, and all gave their praise to Jonghwan's fiancée and the Pastor's wife for such an array of delicacies.

“Let us join hands in thanks.” The pastor spoke, slipping his hand into his wife's, who sat to his right, and into that of his eldest son. Himchan remained silent as he took the hands of Jongho, his other slipping into that of Jonghwan's beautiful fiancée, whom Himchan had yet to hear speak a word. “Bless us, Lord, we give thanks for these gifts you have given us. We sit together this evening in celebration of Saint Peter, our first Pope who holds the keys to Heaven and as always to celebrate our saviour, Lord Jesus Christ. In nomine Padre, et fili, et spiritus sancti, Amen.”

The affirmation was echoed by the family around the table, but Himchan's lips remained sealed. Hands broke apart, and soon the family was digging into the delicious food before them, Jongup politely reaching over the table to serve his father and mother, before he turned to Himchan to fill his plate as well. The man watched as food was lain out upon his plate when the man seated at the head of the table spoke, “You did not affirm our prayer, Himchan-ssi. Did you speak grace of your own in silent?” he asked, lifting his utensils and beginning to eat the food before him. Jonghwan's eagle eye turned to look at the stranger at their table, his tanned skin contrasting against the fair aura of the two who flanked him. Himchan straightened in his seat,

“I do not pray, Father.” he stated, his eyes meeting those that looked at him, “I work.”

“Even the hardest workers make time to pray.” the Father said, lowering his chopsticks to the table. Jonghwan's gaze was intense,

“How do you expect your crops to thrive if you do not pray for the mercy of God.” he stated, lifting a mouthful of food to his lips, his hand moving to touch the arm of his delicate fiancée beside him.

“In my line of work, sir, it is not the mercy of God I need, but the mercy of the land beneath our feet, and the skies above our heads,” Himchan spoke with sureness in his voice. Jongup straightened in his seat and released a soft breath. Never in his life had he heard a single person speak against God, especially not in their home at their table. Yet here Himchan sat, eating calmly as he defied the very belief system their family based themselves upon.

“If you do not pray for God's mercy now, you will be begging for it at the gates of St Peter.” Jongho stated, his tone firm.

“My son, please stay calm.” Father Moon said softly, “Himchan-ssi come to my confessional tomorrow. You can confess your sins to God, and he will forgive you. He is a kind and merciful God.”

“With all due respect, Father.” Himchan spoke, setting down his chopsticks, “I will respectfully decline your offer. My place is not in a confessional, my place is in my fields. Men like me do not need the kindness or Mercy of your God, and I do not owe him my confession.” The eloquence with which he spoke was a surprise to those around the table.

“I will not have such words spoken in my house.” Father Moon said, his brows furrowed in ill suppressed rage, his hands curling around the utensils they held,

“Then I shall excuse myself.” the farm boy responded, carefully rising from the table and bowing, “The food was truly delicious, thank you.” he said. He let himself out of the room. He did not look back to see the way Jongup watched him go, his slim fingers curving together in his lap.

“Fire him!” Jongho said, his voice filled with anger, “How dare he say such things in your home!”

“I can't get rid of him now.. The harvest is too soon and you know there isn't a single farm boy on the island who isn't already working a field.” the pastor said, his right hand clenched into fist, “We have no time to get another from the mainland.”

“You can't let him stay here! Not after he spoke like that! In front of mother, in front of Jonghwan's fiancée, in front of Jongup!” Jongho's voice was filled with indignation.

“And what then, Jongho?” the Pastor said, turning his enraged eyes to his middle son. “Let the Canola spoil? If we do not harvest it, it will go to waste. He needs to stay until autumn, or at least until the tasks are done.” He pushed himself up to stand from the table, raising a hand to silence his elder two sons, “I will not hear arguments, that is final. However Jongup,” he turned to the youngest, who had remained silent. He lifted his gaze and met his eyes to his father's, “You will not spend time with him alone, understood?”

“Papa he is not a threat to me.” Jongup said. His voice was surprisingly calm, and it caused a silence to fall over the family. He had never spoken back to his father in his life, none of the three sons had. Jongho looked to Jongup with a serious expression,

“It is not about whether or not he is a threat, Jongup.” the man said, “He is questioning God, and that is blasphemous.”

“It is within Himchan-hyung's right to reject God.” Jongup said, his eyes lifting to look to his elder brother. “Just because he is our God, does not mean he must be every one else's, too.”

“You have been spending too much time with that farm boy. He was a bad idea the moment you sent for him.” Jongho said back, turning his eyes to his father once again and standing from where he sat.

“Jongup you will not see him anymore.” the Pastor said, his teeth gritted together as he waited for his youngest child to obey his every word, “I have raised you three with expectations, and I will not let a common, uneducated from the mainland come here and ruin everything.” Jonghwan rose a brow as he looked to his father,

“You think he's a...?” he trailed off, and the Pastor grunted, pushing himself to stand,

“I have seen how he looks at you. I have seen how he reaches to touch you. He is sick, he is disgusting.” the man said, his hand gripping Jongup's bicep and bringing the boy to his feet as well. He winced as he was dragged up, swallowing hard as he heard the table shifting as he was forced to his feet, “You will not see him again, Moon Jongup.”

“He is my friend.” Jongup said, his voice did not hold the same conviction it had initially, his eyes filling with a fear as he looked to his father. When Pastor Moon released his son, he brought his left hand down hard against his face. Jongup's eyes closed as his head was forced to the side. The pale skin flushed red under the burning force, blood seeping from where his lower lip split as it was struck by the metal band of a wedding ring.

“He is nothing.” Pastor Moon's voice was little more than a whisper, his eyes fiery as he approached his son. Jongup shifted where he stood, moving back until his back was pressed against a wall. He could taste blood and he released a whimper as his father moved closer, “You will Marry. By winter, I will have you wed.”

“P-Papa-” he tried, but a hand grabbed his throat, pushing him back further,

“You will be wed, Jongup.” he grit out between clenched teeth. Spittle landed on Jongup's wounded cheek and he closed his eyes, “Or so help me God, you are not my child.”

When Jongup was released, he sunk to his knees on the floor. He did not allow himself to cry.

-----

A/N:

A quick note on the stories I have mentioned above. The story of the Woodcutter and the Sunnyeo, and the story of Chunhyang and Moryong are old Korean folk tales, or Pansori. I will link a good blog I found here which has a list of popular folktales and a summary of each of them, and it includes a summary of both the stories I mentioned.

http://blog.korea.net/?p=9745

The song for this chapter is All That Glitters by Kim Jaejoong

Thanks so much for reading, drop me a lil comment and tell me what you think! xx