Anecdotes || KDrama AUs

serenade ~ myunghee × heetae

Characters : Kim MyungHee × Hwang Heetae

Drama : Youth of May

Requested by : Fairyvibe

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The forest was alive with the symphony of despair—the distant gunfire, the rustling leaves in the chaotic wind, and the desperate cries of a brother calling for his lost sibling. Myung Hee clutched Myung Soo’s trembling hand as they ran, her breath ragged, her heart pounding like a war drum. She whispered soft promises to him, masking her fear with a determination only a sister could summon. But fate was cruel and relentless.

The soldiers found them before the forest could offer its refuge. Myung Hee pushed Myung Soo forward, her voice urgent yet gentle. "Run, Myung Soo! Find safety, and don’t look back!"
He hesitated, his small frame shaking, tears streaking down his face. "No, no! I can't leave you!"
"You must," she said firmly, her voice breaking. "If you stay, neither of us will make it. Go. For Father. For me."

And so, he ran, disappearing into the shadows as she faced the soldiers, her hands raised in surrender. But mercy was absent that night. A shot rang out, piercing the air and her body. She fell to the ground, her blood seeping into the earth, her thoughts clinging to Hee Tae's face, the promise they made just minutes ago: See you later. Five minutes.

-----

Five minutes turned into a lifetime.

Hee Tae found himself trapped in a nightmare he couldn’t wake from.
Heetae was caught soon after but was spared by a soldier whose weary eyes betrayed a humanity that the war tried to bury. "Don't look back," the soldier whispered.
Yet looking back was all Hee Tae wanted to do. His heart screamed to return to the forest, to Myung Hee, but the soldier’s grip on his arm was unyielding, and the reality settled into his bones like a cold, crushing weight: going back meant death, and if she were still alive, he couldn’t save her like this.

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For months, Hee Tae wandered the charred remains of Gwangju, his soul hollow and aching. He haunted the streets like a ghost, clutching onto printouts with trembling hands. Her face smiled back at him from the paper—a nurse’s photograph that didn’t do justice to the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed or the way her presence lit up the darkest room. He taped the flyers to every tree, every post, every wall, praying they’d lead her back to him.

His days were an endless cycle of searching and grieving. The nights were worse. In his quiet room, he replayed the forest scene over and over, his mind a cruel theater where the ten-minute promise always ended in her blood. He tried to drown himself in music, but the notes rang hollow. His guitar, once his confidant, now mocked his pain.

One night, the weight became unbearable. He climbed to the rooftop, the city spread beneath him like a broken map of his failures. The wind whipped around him, cold and indifferent. He closed his eyes and leaned forward, but the thought of her—her voice, her warmth, her hope—pulled him back. Not today, the wind seemed to whisper. Not yet.

-----

Instead, he went to the sea. The waves lapped against the shore, carrying with them an unspoken promise of eternity. He walked the coastline aimlessly, his feet sinking into the sand as his tears fell freely. This was where he came to lose himself, to let the sea swallow his sorrow.

And then he saw her.

At first, he thought it was a cruel illusion, the sea playing tricks on his fractured mind. She stood there, frail but upright, clutching a crumpled printout in her hands. Her hair, disheveled and wild, danced in the breeze. Her lips trembled as they formed his name.

He froze, the air stolen from his lungs, his heart caught between disbelief and hope. "Myung Hee..." he whispered, as if saying her name too loudly might shatter the fragile reality before him.

She took a shaky step forward, her tears spilling like raindrops after a storm. "You stayed," she said, her voice breaking. "You stayed here, just like I knew you would."

He ran to her, his legs barely carrying him fast enough, and when he reached her, he fell to his knees, wrapping his arms around her waist as though letting go would mean losing her all over again. "You’re here," he sobbed into her stomach. "You’re here. You’re alive."

She sank to the ground with him, cradling his head as if he were a child, their tears mingling with the salt of the sea. "I never stopped trying to find you," she whispered. "I saw the printout and came as fast as I could. I knew you’d wait for me. I knew you’d stay in Gwangju because you promised."

He pulled back just enough to cup her face, searching her eyes for answers, for proof that this wasn’t a cruel dream. She nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. "The rebels saved me. I was bedridden for months, but I fought to come back to you."

His hands trembled as they touched her, memorizing every line of her face. "I thought I lost you," he choked out. "I thought I’d never hear your voice again."

"You didn’t lose me," she said softly, her forehead resting against his. "You never will."

She cupped his face, her fingers brushing against his jawline as if to convince herself he was real. "I'm here now. I'm here," she whispered.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead—a gentle, reverent gesture that spoke of all the pain and love he had carried in her absence. “You’re here,” he murmured, his voice soft, like a prayer answered.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sea in shades of gold and crimson, they stood together on the shore. The waves carried the faint echoes of a melody—a love serenade Hee Tae had once hummed to her on that warm night of May, when the grasshoppers filled the silence with their gentle song. Now, the same tune rose with the rhythm of the sea, wrapping around them like a promise renewed. The world, once so cruel and unyielding, softened in that moment, and they stood there, unbroken, finally at peace.