Daisy looked up when the door to the music room swung open, before turning back to the piano. Yoongi closed the door and leaned up against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

"I thought I told you I didn't want a teacher?" Daisy said curtly, moving her fingers across the ivory keys as she played her scales.

"I don't particularly want to be here, either," Yoongi said, "But here I am. So let's try again. Play me a piece you love,"

Daisy sighed, and moved her fingers. She took a breath and shot Yoongi a glare, before she began to play.

Yoongi raised his eyebrows in surprise when she began to play Fur Elise, as it was not chosen as the favourite by many pianists. In fact, it was the piece that usually only beginners wanted to play, as it was so popular. However, he frowned and sighed as she got further into the piece. It was also one of Isabellas favourites.

Daisy was slouched over the keys and barely moving her arms and hands. It was as if she didn't even want to play.

"No, no, no, stop, stop!" Yoongi cried, finally fed up, "You can't play Beethoven with such little enthusiasm!"

Daisy made a sound of frustration and stopped playing, "I am enthusiastic," She said.

"You're not," Yoongi argued, "You're just playing!"

"That's what you're supposed to do with a piano," Daisy rolled her eyes and turned back to the piano.

"Beethoven himself said that music comes to him more readily than words. Do you know that means? It means that his music tells a story! It has emotion, and feelings, and passion. You can't just sit at a piano and play it, you have to mean every single thing you say with the notes,"

"You can't speak with music," Daisy said, as if Yoongi were stupid, "Music has no words,"

"Music is the words," Yoongi felt himself grow irritated, "Have you never heard Hoseok play violin? He doesn't just play, he feels, and he makes the audience feel as well. Music is useless if it doesn't make you feel an emotion,"

Daisy glared at him, "Then show me, Mr Musical Enigma,"

Yoongi froze. He could see the piano behind Daisy; the black and white keys glinting from the overhead light on the ceiling. He suddenly remembered the feel of those keys under his fingers, the way that he could spin an entire fairy tale, or a love story, or even a tragedy from just musical notes.

The voice of Isabella resounded in his ears, making his eyes widen.

"Show me, Gigi! I want to hear Turkish March! Or Sabre Dance! Show me Fur Elise!"

"I'm done here," Yoongi muttered, heading for the door.

Daisy huffed out a laugh, "I knew Mr Jung was lying when he said that you were the Min Yoongi,"

Yoongi paused as he pushed the door open, "Yeah, he was lying. I'm not him anymore,"

He closed the door behind him, reaching into his pocket angrily for a cigarette. He shouldn't have sat in and listened to start with. He should have just refused and left. Not only was this girl butchering Beethoven, but she was bringing up painful memories of his dear Isabella. She would be so hurt to hear one of her favourite pieces played so badly.

"Yoongi, done so quickly?" Hoseok caught up to him as he left the building and lit up his cigarette. He inhaled deeply and held his breath in, feeling the smoke burn his lungs, before blowing it back out again. Hoseok coughed and waved his hand in the air, before taking a step back. He knew better than trying to take the cigarette from Yoongi this time.

"It can't be done," Yoongi snapped, "She's too hard headed, she can't be taught passion. She just butchered Fur Elise and then went on to tell me that music doesn't speak! Music has no words!"

Hoseok grinned, "Infuriating, isn't she?"

Yoongi grunted and took another drag from his cigarette.

"You know, Yoongz," Hoseok said, a smile playing at his lips, "I think you can teach her,"

"I can't," Yoongi replied, "There is no way,"

"Well, she's getting a reaction out of you," Hoseok pointed out, "I haven't seen you this fired up in a long time,"

Yoongi froze again, his cigarette half way to his mouth as his friend grinned at him.

"Come on, I'll drive you home," He said, taking Yoongis arm and guiding him to his car, "And I'll pick you up again in the morning,"

"No need, I'm not coming in," Yoongi said, stamping out his cigarette and climbing into the front seat.

Hoseok smiled, "Yes you are, Yoongz. I'll pick you up at the same time,"

The trip home took longer than expected, as Hoseok insisted they stop off to eat on the way. He refused to speak about Daisy any more, and just sat quietly and ate his meal while Hoseok talked about whatever he usually spoke about; Yoongi just zoned out.

Once he was home, Yoongi kicked his converse off and shrugged out of his jacket, before heading straight for his favourite place on the house - the sofa. He reached for the bottle of whiskey that was still sat on the coffee table, and took a swig, leaning back into the sofa.

With a sigh, he started the music from the speaker in the corner of the room. Fur Elise began to play loudly, and he angrily skipped it. After Daisy had ruined the piece earlier, and reminded him of Isabella, he didn't want to hear it. He closed his eyes as another piece started, and swallowed more of the amber liquid from the bottle.

---

"GiGi, you really play so beautifully," Isabella said, leaning on the edge of the grand piano. She often liked to just stand and listen, and usually spent the entire time watching his hands.

Yoongi smiled at her, "That's because I play for you, Izzy," He said, "I love what I do, and I love you,"

Isabella laughed, "That's not true. You played beautifully before we met, as well,"

"Perhaps," Yoongi said, changing the music suddenly to Fur Elise. To him, the music told a story of longing, and love, "But I play better, now,"

His wife sighed happily, "I love this piece," She said, "Almost as much as Turkish March,"

"I know," Yoongi said, "And that's why I'm playing it,"

Coming around the edge of the piano, Isabella leaned down and pressed a kiss onto Yoongis cheek.

"I love your passion," She said softly.

Yoongi stopped playing and turned to her, pulling her onto his lap and kissing her gently, "Then that means you love yourself, Izzy. My passion is you,"

---

AN: Unedited har har har