Yoongi couldn't help but smile as his beautiful wife laughed and clapped her hands like a child as his fingers danced quickly over the keys. He was playing her favourite piece, because he knew that no matter her mood, it would cheer her up. She was cheered up by his playing either way, but some pieces made her cry, and he didn't want that.

He loved the sound of his wifes laughter. It was what was keeping him going during these hard times.

"Gigi, play it again," She said happily as he finished, and she sat on his lap, "I love watching you play this piece,"

"That's because it's your favourite," He chuckled, wrapping his arms around her waist as she nuzzled into him.

"No," She said, "Well, yes, but it's more than that. It's because you get so animated when you play it. It sounds so much better than any other version I've heard,"

"Well, I enjoy playing it," Yoongi replied, "Because you enjoy it,"

"You can tell," Isabella said, "That you love it. So," She smiled and pecked his lips, "Play it again for me?"

Yoongi kissed her hard enough to make her moan, and pulled away, a twinkle in his eyes, "Of course. Anything for you,"

---

Yoongi groaned as he opened his eyes. He stretched and sat up, glancing at the still full glass of whiskey on the table by the sofa. He had poured himself a drink after coming home from the lunch with his friends (he had needed it, Jimin and Hoseok bickered the entire time over Bees attention), but had fallen asleep before he could even take a sip.

He grabbed the glass and stood up, heading to the kitchen and lifting it to his lips. However, as he reached the kitchen, he pulled the glass from his lips and stared at the amber liquid that he had seen as the elixir for life for so long. With a sigh, he dumped the whiskey down the sink and left the glass on the side, before taking a seat at his kitchen table.

From his seat, Yoongi could see that the door to the room that had his piano was slightly ajar, and suddenly, all he could think of was the song in his dream.

Isabella really had loved that song, and when he had first played it for her, she had squealed with delight, making him want to play it for her every single day; which he did, on most days. She never grew tired of it, and he never grew tired of her reactions to him playing.

He eyed the door irritably; he had not played the song since before she had passed, and even though it was an upright, happy sounding piece, to him, it brought back happy memories that only mad him sad.

He sighed and lit a cigarette, taking a deep breath, before eyeing the open door again.

"Ah, shit!" He cried, stamping out his cigarette and scrubbing both his hands through his hair, before he got to his feet and stomped to the room. He grabbed the handle, aiming to slam the door shut and lock it again, but as he reached out, he could see the edge of the stool.

Slowly pushing the door open, Yoongi stood still, staring quietly at the grand piano, that was now in view. It was ready for him, and his fingers were itching to touch the ivory keys. He took a step into the room a little nervously. The last time he had played was emotional, and he had gone in there almost without thinking.

This time, it was as if he was drawn to the room. His fingers wanted to play, his ears wanted to hear, and his mind wanted to remember. He wanted to remember how it felt to play with joy instead of sorrow. He wanted to, but he wasn't sure he could.

Yoongi's frozen state suddenly broke, and he walked into the room, throwing the cover off the keys and sitting heavily on the stool. He placed his fingers on they keys, pressing lightly and closing his eyes when the familiar notes floated up through the air to his lonely ears.

He was surprised that the piano was still in tune after all this time, but as he gently ran his fingers over every key, there was not an off note to be heard. It was as if it was waiting for his return.

With a sigh, Yoongi opened his eyes and slowly warmed up his fingers, running through scales before stretching his fingers. He removed his hands from the keys, and the moment he placed them back down, he began to play Isabella's favourite piece.

He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut as the memory of her voice joined the beautiful mix of notes in the air. He could feel tears streaming down his cheeks as he thought of her long lost smile, and her joy inducing laugh; but then the strangest thing happened to him.

Yoongi began to laugh. He laughed and cried as the strong memories attached to this single piece of music burst free from his locked up heart. Isabella's joy from this song became his joy once again, and although he missed her with all his being, he realized that it was never about her.

He was selfish; he wanted her back so much he didn't even stop to think about how much she was suffering before she passed, and how strong she had tried to be, just to hide her pain from him so he wouldn't worry.

He loved her so much and he missed her, but she was in no more pain, and although her memory would live on, she wasn't here anymore, and he just had to accept that. He thought that it was her love of him playing that made him love the piano, but he was wrong. He had loved the piano much longer than he had loved her; it was how they had met after all.

She was his passion for the piano, but she wasn't his love for the instrument. She was his love, but not the only reason he played.

He laughed as he reached the climax of the song, the tears still running heavy down his face in contrast to the light feeling he had in his heart.

He loved Isabella. He loved the piano. He would let her go, and he would play again, not just to honour her memory, but for himself.

She was his love, but the piano was his first love. And he was stupid for letting it go.

---

AN: The piece he's playing (that is at the top) Is Turkish March by Mozart.. One of my favourite pieces, actually :)