John's eyes were burning. He had not slept the whole night that followed his meeting with Taylor. The mysterious Taylor. She had haunted his mind since they kissed goodbye. She was a peculiar girl, and he was completely fascinated by her. Her way of thinking about life and self-confidence was so deep, and so smart, that he could not prevent himself from falling in love with it. She saw who he really was inside, whereas some people he was close to never did.

The whole night, John stared at the ceiling, with the name 'Taylor' sounding in his head. However, it felt strange for him to find this name musical. He was used to hearing it because of Roger, as it was his surname, but it was different. Completely different.

John rubbed his bloodshot eyes. He was quietly walking in the streets of London. It was around ten in the morning, and he was wandering outside since six. He was not used to this kind of morning walk, he even never did that. He simply could not stand staying at his home: he got bored of being alone. During those four hours, he had not sat at all, not even once, and he could feel his legs getting more and more tired. His toes were painful, as he had chosen to wear his high heeled shoes.

When he looked up to read a sign, just to check where he was, his heart leapt in his chest. Unconsciously, he had driven himself to Whitechapel. He thought about what Taylor told him the night before. “Let your feet guide you.” A warm smile appeared on his face as a question crossed his mind: did Taylor believe that one's feet could drive him to his destiny?

He quickly got this thought out of his head. His destiny. Why was he thinking like that? They had known each other only for hours. How could he even think of her as his destiny? Perhaps Roger was right when he said that John was falling in love. Was it possible not to fall in love with her? She read into his heart, she took the time to discover the real him. Just for that, his heart belonged to her.

However, he tried not to think much about this. He did not want to believe too much in being in a relationship with the young woman. It was too soon, and maybe Taylor would never love him this way.

John frowned, trying to remember what streets Roger went in to drive Taylor back home. He recognised some junctions, and followed his memories. When he found himself lost in Whitechapel, he took a deep breath and tried to empty his head. He closed his eyes, stretched out his arms on his sides, and let his feet guide him. All he could hear was the sound of his shoes on the cold pavement. At first, he was shivering, afraid of walking into a wall or anything. “Trust yourself, Deaky” he told himself “trust yourself!” He walked for a few minutes, until he felt like he could not walk anymore. He opened his eyes and coughed. He looked all around him, wondering where he was. A sign on a brick wall told him that he still was in Whitechapel. He was standing in front of the main door of a building, and noticed the mailboxes before it. He shyly walked to them and took a look at all of them.

“Ann Palmer... Karen and Winston Lennon... Shirley Hooper... Robert Boyd... Taylor Taylor... Taylor Taylor!”

His heart leapt in his chest, and his cheeks turned red. There she lived! He stared at the door for a few seconds, before looking at her name again. He noticed a few words written under it, and read them loud.

“Taylor Taylor, double name, doubly insane.”

He shook his head, chuckling. It could only be her. He stepped back and looked up to the many windows of the building. Where did she live? Was she behind those walls? So many questions that were left unanswered... for now.

Taylor blinked, her right cheek buried in her pillow. She slowly raised her head, but immediately let it fall on the pillow again, with a terrible headache. The sunbeams were shining all over her, as her curtains were pulled. She turned on her back and sighed loudly, rubbing her eyes. She stared at her ceiling, trying to remember when and how she got back home. She had absolutely no memories about it.

When she stood up, she realised that she had an awful taste in her mouth; the only conclusion she could draw was that she went back home drunk. She quickly combed her hair with her fingers, before doing her bed. When she did it, she spun round and faced the door of her bedroom. She was relieved, because nobody shared her bed that night.

Taylor found only one way to remember how she got home. She closed her eyes, trusted herself, and let her feet guide her through the flat. While she was doing it, she tried to think about the previous night. She only remembered that she went to a club with Suzy, and that she got into a fight with some drunk boys whose virility had been hurt, since she refused to talk to them after they called her pet names. She frowned, her headache getting worse. Everything was blurred in her mind, and it confused her.

She stretched her hands far before her, and waited for them to touch something. When they did, it was cold. She blinked and found herself standing at the window of the empty room of her flat. It was only decorated with posters and empty frames nailed to the walls. Not one furniture had been taking in this room. There was absolutely nothing: no clothes, no bags, no plastic bags, no paper baskets, no extra bottles of alcohol that could not be put in the fridge. Nothing.

Taylor sighed loudly and pressed her forehead against the window. She grinned, as its coldness calmed her headache. She briefly closed her eyes and shook her head lightly. She could definitely not remember a thing about the previous night. She sighed again and scratched her cheek, before paying attention to what was going on outside. She saw a few people walking by the building, not even turning their heads. She shrugged and stood on tip toe to see right under her window. A tall young man was standing there, with his long wavy brown hair, a bit messy on the top, wearing a black blazer over a white shirt tucked into dark jeans. He was pacing up and down, rubbing his hands together as if he was cold, and as he moved, Taylor could notice that he was wearing high heeled shoes.

Suddenly, everything came back to her mind. She knew who the guy was.

“John Deacon!”

She ran out of the empty room and headed for her bedroom. She rummaged through her wardrobe, picked a red blouse and a pair of light flare jeans. She picked underwear from a drawer and jumped in the bathroom next door. She did not even bother to close the door or the curtain, and took a quick shower. She did not need to wash her hair: she did it the day before. She grabbed a towel and barely dried herself, before putting on her underwear. Then, she wrapped up herself into her red blouse, which she buttoned on her chest, and tucked it in her high-waisted jeans. She tightened them with a dark brown leather belt. She quickly brushed her teeth and combed her hair. This time, she decided to let them down. She ran to her bedroom again and picked up a pair of platform shoes she quickly put on.

She jumped out of her bedroom and ran up to the empty room again, just to check if John was still here. She smiled: he was. She quickly walked to the entrance and grabbed her keys and her handbag, before going out. She locked the door behind her and ran down the three floors.

When Taylor passed the main door, John had disappeared. She sighed and leaned against the mailboxes.

“You missed 'im, Tay'!”

She sighed once again and rubbed her forehead. Suddenly she jumped. It was not too late! He was still there a moment ago, he could not be far!

She clenched her fingers on her handbag and took a look at every street nearby. Just on the left, a figure was walking away, with long hair flowing behind it. Taylor did not hesitate and ran – with her platform shoes. She raised an arm she shook frenetically over her head.

“JOHN! JOHN!”

The figure spun round. She was right. It was him. His face lit up with a smile, and he ran to her too. When they finally found themselves before each other, Taylor was panting, trying to catch her breath.

“Are you alright?” John chuckled.

Before she gave any answer, she jumped in his arms and pressed her lips against his. John's cheeks got warm and turned red. He smiled at her and removed a lock of hair that was falling across her forehead.

“You didn't mistake it for a love kiss, did you, John Deacon?”

His heart leapt in his chest. For hours and hours, he had been waiting to hear her voice speaking to him again. He even had forgotten the fact that she called him by his full name.

John got so captivated by her voice that he forgot to answer her question. He shook his head and chuckled.

“No, don't worry, Taylor.”

“Great, then!”

“Do you always greet people like that?”

Taylor smiled at him and nodded happily, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. She cleared her throat and scratched the back of her head.

“I always do. But most of the time, people mistake this kind of kiss for love. So they often think I'm an easy girl. I'm not, y'know!”

“What is a love kiss like, to you, then?”

She laughed lightly and stared into John's joyful eyes. It was funny: every time she would see him on a poster or on the TV, his eyes would always look joyless, and it made him look like he was bored. But since she met him, never had she seen him in the same state. He was still really quiet, but his eyes would not make him look like he was bored to death every time.

Just like John, she was lost in her thoughts and almost forgot to give him an answer.

“You can feel it when it's a true love kiss. I mean, every time I kiss somebody when I'm in love, I don't kiss him or her the way I do with you. I deepen the kiss or something like that. Anyway, when I share love through a kiss, you can feel it's different. I personally shiver when it's the case. Most of the time.”

He smiled at her and scratched the tip of his nose. Taylor's grin widened, and she stood on tip toe, though she was wearing high heeled shoes too, and kissed John on the lips.

“I'm so happy to see you again, John Deacon! I thought we would never meet again!”

“If I remember well, I promised you we would!”

“You're right! Well, it's great to see you there! What were you doing here, by the way?”

John blenched. What reason could he give? He simply could not tell her that she haunted his thoughts and mind, and that he got so crazy that he went to her flat. It was insane.

He shrugged and pouted.

“Oh, you know, I was just having a morning walk! Actually I haven't slept a wink, I'm so tired, but I was so bored at the idea of staying at home, that I simply went out.”

“How far is Whitechapel from where you live?”

“Uh... It's quite far. I've been walking since six this morning.”

Taylor's eyes widened.

“Are you bonkin' insane?!” she shouted. “A morning walk at six?!”

John laughed at her use of “bonkin'” instead of “fuckin'”. He shook his head.

“But I'm alright, y'know.”

“You tell me that you've been walking all this time, and I do believe you. But you walked with high heels! Are you a masochist or something?”

They both burst out laughing and she rubbed her bottom lip with her finger as she chuckled. A cool breeze blew on the street, disheveling their hair. John tried to fix his, but it was too wild. As for Taylor, she did not seem to care about how her hair could look like. She opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by her stomach, which roared. She immediately blushed and put her hands on it.

“Somebody's hungry there, mmh?” John smiled. “Would you like to have breakfast with me somewhere?”

“Oh, sure! But let me fix one rule.”

“What is it?”

“Let me pay for meself!”

John's grin widened and he nodded, before showing her the way to a good restaurant where they could have a delicious breakfast.

On their way, none of them dared talking. They even got too shy to ask how the other was doing. Taylor's eyes wandered all around her as she pressed her handbag against her stomach, as if she was trying to calm the rumblings of it. As for John, he buried one hand in his pocket, letting the other hanging lazily next to his thigh.

Taylor started to get nervous about this silence. She simply could not bare it. She discreetly looked at her new friend and smirked. She had never really paid attention to the way he looked, especially the night before, when she got so drunk that she nearly threw up on his shoes. She actually thought that he did not look bad. He did not look bad at all. He had what people would call a big nose, though it was not that big either. It certainly was not Pete Townshend-ish. Although his hair gave the impression that he never combed it, it was quite elegant and framed his thin face well. What she loved the most on his face was his chin: Taylor definitely had something with people's chins.

As the silence was still reigning over them, Taylor dared breaking it.

“It isn't that cold today, is it?”

“Mmh, no, it's pleasant. We'll have a good day, I think.”

John's cheeks turned redder, and it caught her eyes. She grinned and looked at him tenderly, before letting her eyes wander around her again, and gently taking his hand. He jumped and looked at their hands, blushing even more. She turned to him innocently, with her childish grin on her face.

“I hope it doesn't bother you.”

“It doesn't, Taylor.”

“Perfect!”

Taylor giggled and tapped her fingers on her thigh.

“I'm really happy to have breakfast with you, today” she whispered shyly. “I'm glad to see my new friend again!”

“Oh, really?”

“O'couse I do!”

She smiled at him and stopped walking. She stood on tip toe – once again – and pressed her lips against his, stroking his wild hair she loved a lot. Then, she broke the kiss and stared at him friendly, with a gleam of joy in her green eyes. She took his hand again, and they kept walking.

Around ten minutes later, once they got out of Whitechapel, John and Taylor stopped in front of a small restaurant. Taylor was frowning: it looked like something that was chic. John guessed her embarrassment and bent toward her.

“Don't worry” he whispered “it's not something expensive. It looks like it is, but Roger and I have breakfast here quite often. It's really delicious, here. And we're not that rich, y'know.”

“I thought that your albums were extremely popular! I have friends talking a lot 'bout the band.”

“Oh, wow. Well, no, we aren't that rich. But we'll soon be recording a super album, and I hope that it'll work.”

“It will. Trust the band, trust yourself. I already love that album, John Deacon.”

John smiled and kissed her cheek.

“Thank you. But wait until you hear it! Normally it will be released next year, but Freddie is doing a great, great job! He already wrote a few songs, and they will be great!”

“Do you write songs, John Deacon?”

His smile immediately faded away. He blushed and looked down, kicking a stone with his shoe.

“I do, but... It's not that good, I mean... I'm not Freddie or Brian... I'm not good at writing songs. They don't have a deep meaning.”

“John Deacon, when will you finally trust yourself? I'm sure they're great! And I want you to sing one for me!”

“Oh, no, no, no, no!” he chuckled nervously. “I... I can't sing.”

“Stop saying you can't do anything, goddammit! I swear that if you don't come to my flat after we have this breakfast, and play and sing, well... I'm going to kick your arse!”

John burst out laughing, and so did she. Of course, she had no intentions to hit him or whatever. She only wanted to encourage him.It hurt her to hear him talk about himself this way, because she was sure that everything was wrong. Maybe he was not rich, but she felt that he had a lot of talent for songwriting and singing.

“Well... Let's go have breakfast, now” John whispered with a grin.

“Yeah, you're right.”

They held hands tighter and got into the restaurant.

The main room was huge, with a high ceiling decorated with paintings, with walls painted too and decorated with elegant lamps. The floor was white, and a red carpet was spread from the entrance to the counter, at the other adge of the room.

A man in a suit came to them and greeted them with a smile.

“Welcome to Paradise, madam, sir. May I take you to a table?”

“Yes, please.”

The man nodded and quickly walked through the room, gracefully walking behind the tables, whereas John and Taylor had troubles following him. It was not always easy to run after someone with high heels and platforms, was it?

The waiter stopped at a table, pulled the chairs and made Taylor sit. She discreetly pulled a face, that only John saw. The man quickly walked up to the counter to get the menu.

“Paradise? They like bragging 'ere!” she whispered.

“Paradise is the name of the restaurant.”

“Oh.”

They chuckled quietly, seeing the waiter coming back with the menus in hand. He gave one to each and showed them the page for breakfast. Then, he walked to the entrance, greeting new customers.

John blushed, as he raised his eyes from the menu, discreetly staring at Taylor. She looked so beautiful with her frowning face, attentively reading the menu. She had her index gently rubbing her bottom lip. This sight of a girl usually would not please a man, but it was different for him. Perhaps because he was different himself.

Taylor rubbed the tip of her nose and looked at John with a shy grin.

“What will you have, John Deacon?”

“I think I'm going to order this plate of pastries. What about you?”

“I thought about... oh, I don't know. I'll have the same thing as you.”

She closed the menu and shrugged with a grin, before crossing her arms on the table. She played with a lock of her hair, sticking it between her fingers. She was staring at John, who was giving small hits with his middle finger on his glass.

“John Deacon?”

“Yes?”

He jumped and stopped playing with the glass. He looked straight at her with a surprised expression.

“Why were you at my door this morning?”

“Oh, uh... I don't really know, actually. I was having this morning walk, and... and I thought about what you taught me yesterday, you know. To let my feet guide me.”

“And?”

“And it led me to your door. Why? I don't know.”

“It was destiny, John Deacon. Destiny.”

John smiled widely. So, she believed in destiny. But a question invaded his mind at the same time, making him forget his joy.

“By the way, Taylor... Why do you always call me 'John Deacon'? I mean... You can call me John, y'know.”

“No.”

John raised his eyebrows, crossing his arms in confusion.

“Why?”

“Firstly, it sounds great. Secondly, I never call someone by his or her first name only, if we're not intimate or something. For Suzy, it's different, we almost grew up together. But we're close to each other.”

“I see.”

“John is a name that is too... common. John Deacon is unique.”

“But you called me 'John' yesterday.”

“I was drunk, I didn't realise all the things I was saying.”

She chuckled, and jumped as she did not see the waiter standing next to her. She rested a hand on her chest and caught her breath.

“Goodness, you scared me!”

“I am deeply sorry, madam. What will you have?”

“Two plates of pastries.”

“Two plates of pastries. Alright! Will you have something else?”

“A cup of tea for me, please” John replied with a smile.

“A cup of chocolate.”

The waiter nodded and looked at Taylor with a weird expression, before taking back the menus and giving the orders to the kitchen.

Taylor sighed and took her handbag on her knees. She rummaged through it and put some things on the table to find the thing she looked for more easily. John was watching her with an eyebrow raised and half a grin. He looked at all the things she threw on the table. He noticed plane tickets and a toothbrush.

“Do you always go out with those?” he chuckled.

“Always!”

“When are you leaving?”

“What?”

“You have plane tickets, I guess that you're going somewhere, aren't you? Or maybe you already used them!”

“Oh, no, I never left London. But I'd love to travel everywhere, you know. I'd love to visit India, Japan, Vietnam, Brazil, Argentina, South Africa, Poland, Czechoslovakia, Austria, Greece! So many lands I want to cross, you have no idea!”

“You don't even want to go to France?”

“Naah. I don't like it. I saw pictures of Paris, it's ugly.”

“Do you think so?”

“Yeah! But I never saw pictures of the other landscapes of France. Maybe it's pretty, I don't know.”

“Brittany is great.”

“Brittany? Who's that?”

John's eyes widened. Taylor had a serious expression on her face, before she burst out laughing.

“Come on, I'm only joking! I know what Brittany is! My mother comes from there.”

“Oh, does she?”

“Yeah. Well, she came from there.”

Understanding the meaning of her sentence, John stopped smiling.

“I'm sorry...”

“C'mon, you couldn't know! Oh, I still haven't answered your question about the plane tickets, I'm sorry! I have them just in case. Because I don't know what will happen tomorrow, perhaps I'll need to leave everything suddenly, at least I'll have the tickets.”

“Same for the toothbrush?”

“Same for the toothbrush. And I have the toothpaste somewhere. But I also use it each time before I go my dentist appointments.”

John laughed and saw the waiter coming back with the plates of pastries. Whereas he put one down before John, he found himself confused, because of all the mess Taylor made on the table. She quickly put everything back in her handbag and put it on the floor.

“Did you find what you looked for?”

“Yes!” she smiled, showing a small silver ring.

“Great!”

They thanked the waiter, who brought them their hot beverages, and looked back at each other.

“Well, enjoy your pastries!”

Taylor smiled and grabbed a chocolate croissant, before taking a bite. She soaked it into her hot chocolate and bit again in it. She blinked at John, who was tasting a chocolate cream puff. He smiled at her and swallowed what he had in mouth.

“So? What do you think?”

“It's delicious!” Taylor smiled. “No wonder why you and Roger Taylor come here often.”

“I told you it was! Roger and I are too lazy to do something for ourselves, so he picks me up almost every morning to have breakfast with him.”

“I see. I'm a lazy lad, too.”

“Lad?”

“Why not?”

“I don't know, it can make one doubt about your gender!” John giggles, only teasing her.

“I can assure you that I own a vagina.”

John choked on his croissant and coughed loudly, making Taylor burst out laughing. She hit him in the back, which made him stop coughing. His eyes full of tears, he took a sip of his tea and sighed.

“Are you alright, John Deacon?”

“Yes, yes...”

“I'm sorry that I made you choke” she whispered, trying to refrain from laughing.

“Oh, you can laugh, you can laugh!”

His face lit up with a wide grin, and he chuckled, wiping his lips with a napkin. He emptied his cup of tea and took the last bite of his croissant, which was the last pastry that remained in his plate. As for her, she had already finished hers. She was silently drinking her hot chocolate, with her eyes closed. John's ones lowered on her long and thin fingers, noticing white scars. He frowned when he noticed that the back of her hand was covered with the same find of scars. Long white lines were crossing it, along with cigarette burns.

When she looked up, he immediately looked away, though he was disturbed by this view. She guessed what was on his mind, and put down her cup.

“That's my scars, huh?”

“What scars?”

“Those on my hand.”

John blushed and stared at his napkin.

“Yeah...” he whispered. “What happened to you?”

“Oh, nothing spectacular. I dated a guy who was stupider than I first thought. We got into a fight, and he tried to 'butcher' me. He was fascinated by Jack the Ripper, I should have guessed that he was a psychopath. He only hurt me hand, and as I fought too well with him, he simply got his revenge with the cigarette I was smoking.”

“Oh, you smoke?”

“No. But I did for a week. I've never, ever, touched a cigarette ever since.”

“Did you sue him?”

“Why? That would have been stupid. Justice is never good for women. Except for mothers.”

“Not always, unfortunately.”

“You're right. So why would I have wasted my time with justice? It was only a fight, and fights never end well.”

John sighed and friendly took her hand. He gently stroked it with his thumb, but she freed her hand.

“I don't complain, you know. It taught me something.”

“What?”

“Never, ever, date a guy without knowing his real personality.”

She took the last sip of her chocolate and frowned.

“And never date a guy who's obsessed with Jack the Ripper either.”

They shared a laugh, and John stared at her with a grin.

“How did he react when he knew that you lived in Whitechapel?”

“He got completely crazy! He absolutely wanted to buy a house there for us two, and it was so scary, I swear!”

John chuckled, and they simply smiled at each other. They stood up, made sure they did not forget anything, and walked to the counter. Taylor took out her wallet and paid for herself, whereas John paid for himself too. They thanked the waiter, and got out of the restaurant. When they found themselves in the street, Taylor was still trying to put her wallet back into her bag. Before they walked anywhere, she grabbed his hand and smiled at him.

“Would you like to come to my flat? I want to hear you sing one of your songs!”

“Oh, well, huh... I can't sing, I told you!”

“I don't care. I've got a guitar, you'll play on it, and you'll sing, period!”

He smiled wider, holding her hand a bit tighter.

“Alright, I'll sing for you.”