I reach the door, my poisoned fingers reaching the handle before it softly opens under such slight pressure.

I touch my arm, rubbing the place where he touched softly, I inhale deeply whilst wiping the useless tears from under my eyes.

Just as I'm taking off my shoes I hear a soft melody float into my ears -one I haven't heard before- Instantly I recognised that Yoongi was the one creating this melody.

My feet led me towards the room beside the stairs, I do not bother to hesitate before walking in, the sound of my presence even my uneven breathing does not put him off once.

I watch his fingers effortlessly float across the keys as i sit in the chair amongst the books, I listen to him as i sniffle and rub my sore eyes before closing them to enjoy the melody.

A while passes by before i notice the music has stopped, I sense Yoongi in a closer proximity than before, sensing this my eyes open.

"There you are" He smiles "Are you going to tell me who made my daughter cry?" He asks as he rests his chin on his hand.

My heart thumps a strange rhythm of happiness as the word daughter escapes his mouth, a small burst of embarrased laughter funnels out of my mouth "Its nothing" I shake my head and sit up right, faking a smile "Just a hard day"

There is a silence as I sense him reading my face, he tuts "Liar, Don't make me tickle you"

My eyes cautiously meet his, seeing if he means it or not, out of fear I give in "I was talking to Taehyung about what happened as he was saying things about you" I inhale rubbing my eyes "Then he got angry, he grabbed me and i just freaked out"

He nods in an understanding, his soft gaze flickering to my hands which are fiddling with my hair and edges of my clothes "Its understandable after all that you have been through" He smiles, stretching and groaning as he stands up.

"But you are home now, this is your safe place just as much as it is mine" I smile back at his words, my heart itself relaxing "If he bothers you again ill just have to tell him off" Yoongi chuckles before leaving me in the room, I hear him head up the stairs whilst my gaze grates the piano.

He has talent to the point where I am jealous, how could somone like her hurt him?

She must of been insane.

As I think this to myself I go over to the piano, touching the case ever so delicately with my finger tips.

I look up to release my heart from the burden of having no talent, only to spot a photo collecting dust, almost moulding into the bookcase.

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