itsbinforever

[itsbinforever]

SUMMER SWEETHEART

Summer held many charms for you, and Seo Changbin was one of them.

WORD COUNT: 3.8k GENRE: Desi Cottagecore PLAYLIST: Here If this fic was a movie, Badra Bahaar by Amit Trivedi would be the song that plays during the ending credits. 

© itsbinforever. please don't steal my work!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I hate everything I write, with the exception of this story. It's like my words have an expiry label that says "BEST BEFORE: 2 WEEKS", after which I start cringing at them. Summer Sweetheart is the first and only story of mine that I cherish so deeply. I love the characters and I love their banter, and I like to pretend I didn't write it so that I can return to read it. I hope it receives a fraction of this love from its readers on Tumblr too.

｡°⚠︎°｡ This story is heavily influenced by desi culture. Here's a lexicon to guide you through foreign words, which have been used sparsely in the story:

Mandi (muhn-dee): A large market for fruits and vegetables

Haveli (ha-way-lee): a manor house, usually in villages or smaller towns

Charpai (chaar-pa-ee): a bed with a wooden frame and jute webbing

Kurti (ker-ti): An Indian tunic

Dupatta (doo-puh-ta): An Indian scarf

Nani (na-nee): maternal grandmother

Summer brought you to the bustling haveli in the countryside, where your grandmother and her retinue of servants fussed over how thin you’d gotten and took it upon themselves to flesh you out. Summer brought family reunions and nightly ruminations, cross-legged on charpais under the star-spangled skies until the conversation was taken over by that uncle whose astrological fascinations overflowed into a panoramic commentary on all the constellations that your city was never graced with. Summer brought bright mornings, waking up under the mosquito net that sheltered you from the plaguing insects but not the beaming sun rays. Summer held many charms for you, and Seo Changbin was one of them.

The last day of summer was yet another day spent frolicking through the orchards, amid the fruit laden trees and kempt grass, barefoot and hand in hand with your childhood sweetheart. You wore silly grins on your faces, cheeks tinted red under the leafy canopy that filtered in light from the sweltering summer sun, too young and too in love with the present to notice everything that could go wrong.

The orchard boasted of ripe mangos, ready to be plucked and sold in the nearby town’s mandi, from where, your mothers would ensure, the delectable summer treat would find its way onto your plates in a variety of preparations each meal for the rest of the season until you were sick of its cloying sweetness. But young and callow as you were, Changbin and you couldn’t let go of the opportunity the old neighbour’s visit to the city presented - an orchard full of free fruits with no one to stop you. 

Off you’d went, the mischievous, little delinquents that you were, tiptoeing out of your houses after lunch when all admonishing adults were lost deep in their midday siestas. Leveraging the catch in the wall, you’d scrambled into the orchard and scampered off under the security of the shade, ready to sink your teeth into someone else’s bounty.

“That’s a dumb idea.” You didn’t need to stop or turn his way to tell that the only thing Changbin could achieve with his idea would be a colossal failure when you heard a pause in his footsteps.

“What’s dumb is your outfit,” He shot back without lifting his eyes from the heap of dried leaves and fallen twigs that had been swept to a nook in the buttress roots of a rather large tree.

“You’re one to speak.” Changbin was the image of utter comedy in your eyes, wearing a comically large t-shirt over a pair of shorts one size too tight for him, no doubt hand-me-downs from his cousins. After all, what would a summer family reunion be without the ritualistic passing down of elders’ outgrown clothes to the youngers? But you didn’t fare any better. “Besides, it’s not my fault that my mother wants me to ‘connect with my roots’,” You huffed. Your mother made you dress modestly here, lest her family comment on the city culture that was apparently tarnishing your traditions. Dolled up in a kurti and a long skirt, only the embroidered dupatta you’d stolen from your aunt redeemed for your otherwise cumbersome attire.

“Whatever,” He mumbled absently, twirling a twig between his fingers. “Just wait and watch.”

You did neither, continuing down the trodden path as you adjusted your glasses to scan the dark, glossy leaves overhead for fruits within reach. The trees were regularly spaced every ten feet or so, teeming with mangoes that hung in bunches high up. Neither Changbin nor you had a stature worth bragging about; you were just two awkward midgets who’d have to step up a few branches to reach even the lowest of the heavy hanging fruits.

Secretly, you liked the way that would always play out. 

It would start with the firm hold of his hands on your waist, hoisting you until you caught onto a branch. Your flimsy skirt wouldn’t offer your knees much protection against the rough, ant ridden wood as you’d scramble to mount it, Changbin’s hands hovering cautiously until he’d be convinced you were ready to help him up. His crayon fingers would dig into your clammy palms, face scrunched with effort that would only relax with a sigh of relief once he’d be seated beside you, knees bumping into each other’s as your legs would swing in a platonic cadence.

Of the whole mango thievery experience, this was the part that made your heart race the most. So, a twinge of disappointment coloured your frowning lips when you saw that Changbin seemed to be inclined towards a different plan this time.

“I said wait!” He called from behind in his typical whinging tone, only to evoke a defiant snicker out of you. You switched to a brisker pace with the sole intent of annoying him. “Hey! Don’t go so fast! You’ll stub your toe on a rock and fall on your butt if you don’t wait for me, I’m telling you!” He warned, finally rising from his crouched position.

You couldn’t resist sticking your tongue out at him before you broke into a sprint. The scenery around you blurred in motion as your bare feet pounded the grassy ground, one hand lifting your skirt while the other held onto your dupatta. Luckily for you, it seemed that the area had been pruned recently - barely any pebbles caught in your feet, though the grass did tickle you. But your focus was directed on outrunning the short, skittish boy chasing you.

It was so easy to irk Changbin, so easy to elicit his grumpy wails of complaint and adorable scowls, to urge him into this frivolous game of chase. A hearty laugh bubbled in your chest as you chanced a glance behind, sneering at his flushed face as he brandished the stick in his hand in a way that, you supposed, was meant to be threatening. His torrent of threats drowned in ripples of giggles and squeals as he began to catch up with you, startlingly quicker than you’d imagined. After all, he wasn’t the one hindered by a flowy outfit. Just when you’d expected his arms to close around your waist in the dizzying way they always do, you felt a light pull at your braid. When you turned, it was too late. 

An impish grin adorned Changbin’s face as he held up the hair tie he’d slipped out of your hair. “Wait, no- ” You pulled off your glasses - they had fogged from the run - and leapt at his blurry figure, trying to snatch it out of his hands. He hid it behind his back and sidestepped you, moving out of your range of reach.

“Bin, my hair’s oily, I can’t leave it open!” You pleaded. Your grandmother had a peculiar passion for oiling your hair every other night, and today was just one of those days when you’d been too lazy to wash up in the morning, leaving you with a greasy mop of hair drenched to the roots in amla oil, barely tamed into a braid.  

But Changbin refused any empathy towards you or your hair. “‘My hair’s oily’,” he mimicked you in a nasal voice, adding, “Nope, you’re not getting it back! It’s mine now!” Mischief radiated from his sparkly eyes and scrunched nose and the high pitched giggles he let out at your distress. “Besides, I like it better this way,” he said, gesturing to your hair. You would’ve swooned at the scintilla of sincerity that peaked through his taunt, if not for your untangling braid that threatened to curtain your face in oily locks.

“Changbin.” You spoke carefully, enunciating his whole name with a low voice and a pointed stare as you tied your dupatta at the waist, the sternest equivalent of rolling up your sleeves you could imitate in this attire. “Give. It. Back!”  

And yet, Changbin’s response to the most intimidating front you could’ve put up was of nonchalance and disregard, complete with an exaggerated eye roll. “Oh, calm down! You don’t look that ugly.”

“Excuse me-”

“Leave your hair be.” He brushed you off with a dismissive wave. “I want to try something first, watch this.” 

“What- Oh goodness! It’s not going to work, Changbin, I’ve told you - it’s a dumb idea!” You splayed your arms and stomped your feet like a toddler throwing a tantrum, miffed with his antics. But your words fell to deaf ears as a beaming Changbin carried on with his - might you add, utterly foolish and entirely useless - plan. The stick he’d picked was shaped like a Y, and with your trusty hair tie, Changbin aspired to put together a makeshift slingshot. Fruitlessly ambitious, in your humble opinion - quite literally, you’d say.

“We won’t have to climb the trees then, it’ll be much easier with this.” He tried to persuade you. Not that it worked, you weren’t convinced in the slightest. But all the summers spent together had acquainted you with Changbin’s tenacity enough to know his dogged determination wouldn’t let up until he went through with it.

A huff of resignation left your lips. Arms crossed above your chest, you tilted your head in a way that said ‘Prove it’. Changbin didn’t stand down. Producing a marble out of his pocket, he stretched your hair tie as far as it would go and locked the target, taking in a deep breath and exhaling as he let go. The marble flew a few feet before dropping at an unimpressive, rather embarrassing distance, not even making it as far as the tree.

The shade of defeat suited quite awkwardly to his beefy body. The urge to iterate your triumph was nearly irresistible, but you settled for a cocky smirk that spelled out ‘I told you so’ as you held out an open palm. Lips curled in a grumpy grimace, Changbin gave you the stink eye as he relinquished your hair tie.

“Why are you looking at me like it’s my fault?” A gleeful laugh tinted with a noise of complaint left your lips at his expense, pushing him deeper into sulky mode. 

“It is your fault.” He humphed. “Why do you roam around wearing cheap hair bands, huh? Spend money, buy branded ones.” He pursed his lips in a petulant pout, turning away from you.

“Oh, please. Why don’t you get me some yourself, then?” You muttered as you attempted to gather your hair into a bun - the braid was beyond salvaging at this point and you had too little dexterity to redo it the way your aunt did it for you.

“I might as well.” You heard him say faintly, still not facing you as he waited for the mortification to wash away.

“Wait, did you just concede to buying me a gift?” You popped your face right in front of his, taking him aback with this sudden invasion of personal space. “Who are you and what have you done with Changbin the cheapskate?” You poked him in the way that vexed him most, a reaction which brought you the purest joy; a repeated tap, tap, tap of your index finger on his upper arm, waiting for the delight of them bouncing back from the squishy skin. Only, this time came a surprise as they touched rather firm and shapely muscles. Since last Summer, you noted mutely, Changbin had grown a lot. It brought heat to your already flushed cheeks. 

“Excuse me, Miss Imma-Buy-Cute-Things-That-I-Don’t-Need! I’m not buying you any gifts. It’s an investment. It’ll actually reap fruits next time,” He scoffed, before adding, “And I’m not a cheapskate!”

You were ready to contest that claim but your snarky arguments fizzled out on the tip of your tongue - a quick movement in the periphery of your vision distracted you.  

What happened next was a blur. 

Thwack!

Looking back at it, you weren’t able to tell a thing from another except the throbbing presence of a dull ache rippling throughout your head. It arrested your senses in a moment of numbness before you could even register what had conspired. 

Did something just hit you?

Involuntarily, your arms tensed and your fists flew overhead a moment too late, clenched as you cowered to brace yourself from whatever could come next. Eyes squeezed shut, scrunching like tight screws till everything became darker and slower - you were blacking out.

“... Y/N.”

You were unthinking, immobile. The heavy thrumming in your eardrums was the delirious beating of your heart pounding louder and louder. It was a heavy veil over your senses making everything else seem dull. 

“Y/N!” 

A yell made its way over the chaos in your head. You couldn’t clearly register it, but the resonant ring of urgency clawed at you as you tried to surface from the haze you had been stupefied into.

“RUN!”

When your eyes snapped open, the only thing you could discern was the panic in Changbin’s pale face and frantic touch. You were still frozen, mirroring his frightful look until he was grabbing at you and the next moment, you found yourself being pulled along with him as he ran. 

It was a mad, mad rush. Even as Changbin held your hand in a vice grip, it wasn’t easy to keep up with him, especially in your disoriented state. He managed to steer you clear of the many roots and heaps of fallen twigs and anything else that you could trip on. But when your now muddied skirt and hazy vision made you stumble more than once, it was only Changbin’s firm grasp that kept you upright and running. From what? You still didn’t know. But you trusted Changbin.

That wasn’t to say you weren’t curious; if anything, your state of bafflement fueled your curiosity. So, in a flash of daring, you looked over your shoulder. Squinting through your bleary sight, all you could make out was a brown blob hurtling towards you at a speed faster than you were running from it. A whimper caught in your throat as you turned, trying to fathom the vague shape you saw, and that’s when you realised - 

“Shit!” You brought your free hand over your eyes, confirming your suspicion. “I dropped my glasses somewhere, Bin!” You managed to speak through your panting but Changbin didn’t respond - if he heard you, that is. “Bin, we need to go back!” You tugged at his hand, squeezing your fingers that were entwined in his. He just squeezed back harder. “CHANGBIN-”

“IT WAS THE MONKEY!” He let out a shaky shriek. “The monkey stole your glasses!” 

What?

“Came out of nowhere!” He sounded afraid and panicky and, like a contagion, the same emotions began bubbling in your chest too. “It jumped on your head and took off with your glasses - Geez! You were there too, you saw it happen!”

You were stumped. “ ‘Took off’ - then why is it chasing us?”

“Ask the monkey that!” Changbin yelled. He looked behind and you did too, now more cautious than curious. The brown blob - the monkey - was gaining on you. Cursing under his breath, Changbin sped up and your entangled hands forced you to match his pace. “I looked at it and it snarled and it tried to pounce on me!” 

“Oh, my.” You let out a shaky whimper. Fear and exertion doused you in a cold sweat. It pooled in the dip in your neck, eventually slipping in between your clammy fingers. Changbin’s grasp faltered. Anxiety doubled over you, but then he let go of your hand entirely before briskly grabbing your wrist in a bruising grip that lent a much needed sense of security.

You didn’t dare look back again, keeping your eyes trained ahead. An escape appeared in the form of a rusty turnstile, the only visible outlet in the brick wall that lined the perimeter of the orchard. The fencing wouldn’t be a hindrance to the monkey - it could as easily chase you outside the orchard too - but surely, the stick wielding guards flanking the dilapidated gate would offer protection.

“HEY!” Changbin was a loud and whiny kid of much repute (not the good kind) and as much as your parents would use him as a bad example, you’d always racked your mind for any argument that would work as a clapback in Changbin’s defence. “GUARDS!” Right now, a rush of admiration overcame you, followed by the urge to rub it in your parents’ faces that his ‘bad manners’ kept you safe. Oh, the satisfaction of having your parents reluctantly approve of your best friend - Hang on. Your parents could never know - should never know. They’d be furious.

And so would the guards, you realised as you neared the gate. The closer you got, the clearer you could make out their expressions. Initial confusion morphed into fury, and you almost considered running off in another direction when you saw them pick up their sticks before noticing that you didn’t fall in their line of sight. They were looking further. The monkey. Of course. Warding off monkeys was more of a priority than reprimanding thieving teens.

“Changbin!” You called, trying to convey the plan to him before you’d come within the guards’ earshot. “We have to run off before they return. They’ll tell on us!” What you’d gathered from your mother’s recollections was that everyone knew everyone in small towns, as if they had everybody’s entire biodata memorised like the back of their hands. Thank goodness you weren’t a local, else there’d be no hiding this from your parents. “Got it?” If it wasn’t for the barely audible grunt of acknowledgement, you would’ve thought he didn’t hear you.

The guards whizzed past you, charging at the monkey as they waved their sticks, yelling at them in their native tongue. You could only make out a few words, but you figured the majority of their speech translated into crass variants of “Get away!” When you heard the monkey screech in response, you shut your eyes. Changbin’s hold made sure you didn’t stop in your tracks, but a sudden turn he took made you flash open your eyes. “Bin, the exit-” You couldn’t even put words to your confusion before Changbin pulled you to a halt in front of the perimeter wall, further away from the turnstile. Without skipping a beat, his hands found purchase on your waist in a practised choreography. Except, this wasn’t in the shade of a deciduous canopy that would shelter your ministrations. This was out in the open - without any spectators, thankfully; the guards were still preoccupied chasing away the monkey - but still enough to make you feel sheepish, despite the predicament you were in.

“Swing your leg over it, quick!” He instructed once you were perched on the narrow wall. You made quick work of it. Seated with one leg on either side of the wall, you didn’t need Changbin to tell you to offer him your hand; it was the obvious next step. The wall was crumbly but there were no nooks for Changbin to place his feet into. His entire weight was yours to pull and as you did, a fall became inevitable.

“Ouch!” You exclaimed. Changbin whined on top of you. Crushed between him and the unyielding ground, you felt pain shoot through your spine before little stabs exploded all over. The wall was barely a foot taller than you, but with the way you fell headfirst and with Changbin’s weight propelling you, you had imagined nothing less than a cracked skull. Well, maybe that was too dramatic. But the lack of symptoms of a looming concussion was somehow more worrisome than the existing pain.

Changbin stirred, a string of grunts and groans limning the effort it took to heave himself off you. He barely rose before crumpling to the ground right next to you. “Shit.”

“Why did we just do this?” You groaned. The pain felt less severe now, but Changbin lying motionless next to you only fueled your urge to bask in the moment a bit longer.

“They won’t be able to find us here.” He forced out between heavy breaths.

“And here is…?”

“Good question.”

There was a pause. It lingered uncomfortably. It was the silence before the storm, and the storm came in the shape of your fist punching his arm. Changbin screamed bloody murder, making you retreat your hand to cover your ears, elbowing him nonetheless. “What the hell, Changbin?”

“OKAY, OKAY! I may not know where we are, but I made sure we’re safe, at least!” 

“You call this safe? I nearly died!”

“Oh, shut up, you drama queen.” He made to pull his hand to himself and when you felt it slide from beneath your head, the absence of a headache started to make perfect sense.  A fuzzy feeling swaddled you and Changbin’s “Let’s get going” did a great job slicing through it. Having taken umbrage at your jab, he was determined to find your way home to prove his point. His point being… something that escaped you. But it was cute, his steely look, so you played along and followed his lead.

The sun was no longer at its zenith, hovering lower in the sky as it bathed the town in shades of pink and gold. People had emerged from their houses once again, the streets filling in as Changbin and you wandered like vagrants. You would ask someone for directions but ‘nani’s haveli’ was the only address you knew. Besides, Changbin was adamant that you didn’t need help, that he knew where he was going despite being caught reciting eeny meeny miny moe under his breath at the fork - he denied that allegation, insisting that he was actually reciting his evening prayers since he was “a man of principles”.

By the time you stumbled upon your home, your feet were aching and your kurta was awkwardly patchy with sweat, thinly veiled under your dupatta. The sun was barely peeking from the horizon when you greeted your mother, who settled for telling you off with a look of disdain that bounced off your thick skin as you headed for the shower. It was when you went to dry your towels on the terrace that the last rays of the sun were disappearing into the darkness, which brung with it weak flashes of dancing lights as the first swarm of fireflies trickled out of their retreats.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” The haveli next door was separated by a low stone wall but in the convoluted ways of ancient architecture, the two buildings met at the top and merged into a single terrace, subtly demarcated by a badminton net. Peering through the nylon mesh, Changbin chirped, “They’ve just begun to come in. Do you know what that means?” His eyes gleamed. If it was merely the reflection of the fireflies or pure mischief ablaze, you didn’t know, nor did you care. All you cared for was the way it made your heart race, and the way you wanted this moment to go on forever, the way you wanted this summer to go on forever. “The night’s still young.” 

And in those four words, you found your forever in the last moments you’d spent with your summer sweetheart.