In early August every year, the small town hosted a harvest festival. Hay was stacked around the town square, and a bonfire was lit. Everyone came from the neighbouring farms to visit the celebrations, sharing around food and drink as the festivities built. It was the hardest time of year, and all needed a celebration before the coming exhaustion of the harvest, and the imminent dismay of coming winter chill.

The pastor gathered his family, and all of them ventured into the town together, the two elder brothers, along with Jonghwan's fiancée breaking off in search of their childhood friends from the smaller neighbouring towns of the parish. Jongup, on the other hand, stayed beside his mother. He had few friends in town after being kept so close to the property for his life, and since he had last seen Himchan he had barely spoken and had little interest or desire to be social.

He stood beside his mother as Pastor Moon stood before the town and lead a prayer for his parish, asking God for his mercy and guidance for the Harvest, praying for good crop to be yielded from across their lands. The fire was set alight, once all those around had echoed in their prayer of Amen, and the crackling of the flames sent a cheer through those surrounding him.

“Jongup-ah!” his father called as he re-approached after giving his sermon. Jongup's gaze rose and he looked to his father, watching as he lead three of the village folk over towards him. He recognised them from church, they were the Park family from just outside of the town. Mr. Park farmed fruit in the lush soil on the slope of the volcano, while his wife was one of the instructors in the small school that sat near the centre of their cozy town, Jongup remembered attending that school alongside the Park's daughter. He looked to them for a moment, before bowing at a polite degree, remaining close beside his mother, “You remember the Park family, right, son?”

“I do.” he confirmed simply, his gaze flickering to the beautiful girl who stood beside the portly farmer. He knew she was the same age as him, her dark hair and fair features being much more mature and beautiful since he last saw her.

“They have come into town for the festival, with their daughter Yeonha. You knew Yeonha when you were children, do you remember?” It had been a long time since Jongup had heard such a joyful tone in his father's voice, and it left him shifting uncomfortably on his feet, nodding his head,

“I remember.” he said. He swallowed, knowing what was coming after,

“Yeonha has grown into such a beautiful woman, has she not? I was thinking you should walk with her, Jongup-ah. Spend the evening by her side. It will be nice for you and her to reconnect after these years.” the man spoke, his hand pressing to Jongup's back, forcing him to take a step forward,

“P-Papa-” Jongup tried, but was cut off,

“You would do well to show her around, Jongup.” his voice was firmer, his smile tightening. Jongup swallowed and turned to the girl who he could barely remember and nodded his head. He stepped forward,

“Would you like to go and look at the fire, Yeonha-ssi?” He said, voice taught. As he stepped from where he stood, the girl at his side, he could hear their parents speaking behind him.

“They would make for a good couple. You know I do not have any sons, Jongup could take over the farm once I retire, we make enough to employ plenty of physical help. All he would need to do-” the Pastor cut off the excited farmer,

“We have many years to worry about those details. For now, we should focus on planning their ceremonies.” He stated, causing Jongup's heart to ache. He could feel his life slipping away from his reach, knowing that he had no control anymore.

The hay bale was uncomfortable where he sat, his side pressed against that of the girl he had once known, not listening as she spoke of seemingly anything that was on her mind. Jongup's eyes flickered around the town, his eyes focusing on the familiar faces of the members of his congregation. His throat once again felt tight, wondering if he would ever leave this little town, wondering if he would ever make it onto the mainland. He wondered if he was destined to marry this girl, to grow old on the island and to never experience any of the magic this world had to offer.

It was he looked around the familiar faces, that his eyes landed on one that sent pain through his very soul. Himchan stood on the other side of the square, his arms folded over his chest and he looked beyond the fire to instead watch Jongup where he sat beside Yeonha. Their eyes met and the intensity of such a gaze sent a chill through Jongup's body, feeling his heart ache with such a want to go to the man who had brought forth things he had never felt before. He opened his mouth, his fingers curling into his palm, about to speak to Yeonha, about to tell her that he had to go, about to tell her that he could never marry her, that he already had someone who he loved. He felt the words rolling up his throat and laying upon his tongue, waiting to be expelled with an exhale of breath, but before he could Himchan broke the contact, and instead turned. He slipped between the people standing behind him and disappeared away into the twilight, back towards the property that lay on the edge of town.

As Jongup stared into the fire before him, he wondered if he would ever stop loving Himchan.

*

The mornings were beginning to get colder, and the stretched out afternoons began to shorten. Sunset came earlier each evening, and as the Harvest season progressed it became harder and harder to get a day's work done in the hours of sunlight.

August rolled over him like flowing water, and Himchan spent every moment slicing and rolling the bales of Canola, conquering the golden pastures day by day, square metre by square metre. The barn where he slept began to fill with tied bundles of the most coveted yield of the land the Pastor owned, knowing the flowers would soon be sold to a factory to be pressed into oil. He stood in his field, scythe in hand as he slashed at the base of the plants, leather gloves coating his hands to protect them from the harsh stems as he gathered them and tied them together.

“Himchan-ssi.” the Pastor spoke from the edge of the field, metres from where Himchan stood. He shifted his grip on the hilt of the scythe and bowed his head to the elder man.

“Sir.” he said, slinging his tool to his belt as he bent down and tied the bundle of stems together, tossing it onto a pile behind him.

“It is unfortunate we don't have a tractor to aide you in your work.” the man spoke, leaning against the wooden post of the fence that surrounded his field, but Himchan simply smiled politely,

“What use would I be if a machine did my work for me. If I cut each plant by hand, then I do not run the risk of damaging the flowers with the wheels of a tractor.” he stated, lifting another bale into his arms and coming closer, leaning it against the fence, “But you haven't come here to apologise, Father.” Himchan spoke with a polite tone, but nothing near any kind of warmth or affection. There was no point in pretending he felt anything but contempt for the Pastor.

“No.” the man spoke, “I have sent for seed for the next crop. Once you have harvested the flowers, and uprooted the cut plants, I expect you to prime the soil and plant the seed for next season.”

“I would expect nothing less than that being my duty, sir.” the farm boy responded, using the back of his hand to wipe sweat from his brow, pushing back his dark hair. It had gotten much longer over the course of the Summer, long enough for him to need to tie it back with a scrap of string.

“How long will it take you?” the man asked, his eyes serious with an unspoken concern. Himchan knew the worries on the man's tongue and stepped back, raising his scythe and gripping nearby stems, slicing the flowers from the plant.

“Do not worry, Father.” he spoke as he re-approached, “I will be done by the time the strait freezes. I will be back on the mainland by the end of autumn.” he said, holding the golden flowers out to the man, “For your dinner table, Sir.”

Father Moon took the flowers, nodding his head in minimal thanks. It was no secret, the dislike the master had for his servant, but both knew they were indispensable to the other and hence the relationship must continue. Himchan turned back to his work, but was stopped, “One last thing, Himchan-ssi.”

“Sir?” Himchan asked, turning his head, but not facing him.

“Has Jongup come to see you?”

“I have not spoken to your son since I sat at your dining table, Sir.” he lied easily.

“So you would not have heard.” the man spoke, “His mother and I have set sights on a girl we wish for him to Marry.”

“Is he not a little young to Marry, Father?” Himchan responded after only a minuscule hesitation.

“It is not for you to decide whether he is ready for marriage.” the pastor's voice was firm, challenging.

“Nor is it for him, it seems.” Himchan said, turning around to bow, “If you will excuse me, Father. I have crop to harvest.”

The scowl on the Pastor's lips spread into a satisfied smile as he heard the blade of the scythe meeting the stems of crop harsher than it had before. The words he had spoken to Himchan in threat had been taken into account, and he knew that a divide had been built between his youngest child and the farm hand, and he was satisfied at his success. His head turned and he looked back at Himchan. The farmboy's arms flexed as he brought his tool down on the crop, his expression set hard in his work. He would never allow such a person to speak to his son again.

The sun had long set by the time Himchan allowed himself back into the barn. His clothes were filthy with earth and mud, his hands scratched from the unforgiving harshness of the stems and string he had to grip, even if for most of his work, he wore protective gloves. A cigarette was lifted to his lips and ignited, a hand sliding through his filthy hair as he stripped from his working attire and instead re-dressed in something cleaner. He was unable to properly clean his clothes, but something was far better than nothing. He crossed the room and stood by the open door, the cool breeze meeting his skin and causing goose bumps to rise. The early autumn air smelled of clean promise and changing seasons, and he knew that it would be very soon that the barn would be uncomfortably cold for sleeping in.

Turning his head, he looked back at the bed he had constructed himself from hay and old blankets found in the barn, knowing he would need to make do with minimal protection once weather finally came. Though he knew all too well that his time on the property was limited, and soon his job there would be done. He thought of the life he had left behind on the mainland, of the work in factories or construction that would provide for him throughout the winter, until he was able to work the land again.

Himchan turned back and looked at the flickering light of the oil lamp by the door, but his eyes instead caught sight of a lantern further down the property, where he knew the cows slept. A small smile crept onto his lips and he shook his head, sure that Jongup was once again sleeping between the cows under the stars and a part of him hoped the boy would forget about him. Himchan did not deem himself worthy of such affections, nor would he ever believe himself worth the pain Jongup would sustain if their love was discovered. He pushed himself from the door frame once his cigarette was little more than a smouldering and blew out the light, before retiring to his modest palette on the barn floor.

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A/N:

Thank you all so much for reading, drop me a comment and let me know what you thought!
The title song for this chapter is I'm Fine Thank You by Ladies Code.

xx