Two years had passed since Taylor and John joined their hearts to live as one. It was still the case, and they were glad that they were still standing hand in hand, walking on the same path of their lives.

John's career with Queen grew bigger and bigger, and the freedom he had when walking in the street without being recognised was now far behind him. Every time he dared wandering outside, some fans would stop him and ask for photographs, autographs, and a simple talk. Not that he did not like it; actually, he loved talking with his fans. He thought that it was important to be simple, even with a very eccentric life, under the spotlights. However, he still liked being alone, with his friends, his bandmates, but more especially his Taylor.

Taylor found a job in a gallery, as a guide. John helped her to pay for another year at university, so she could have a degree in Art. Moreover, she passed her driving license. She was happy with the way she lived. She still had her flat in Whitechapel, as she did not live with John. Her empty room was not empty any more. She had filled more than the half of the frames with pictures of Brittany, Austria, Germany, Norway, Ireland, Scotland, Italy, Spain, and some other landscapes she saw when travelling with John. Between the tours and the sessions at the studio, John would bring her to many places, showing her how wonderful travelling was. As she predicted it one day, she never got tired of it, and it still was her passion.

With the time, John cut his hair, but not entirely. Taylor often said that she missed his long, wavy hair, but she knew that she would never see him with this hairstyle again. He was still adorable and gorgeous to her, even with shorter hair and new clothes. As for her, she wore her hair a tiny bit shorter, but it was hard to see the difference.

While studying Art, Taylor learnt everything about photography and was hired as one of the official photographers for Queen. From time to time, she would follow them on tour, but would not stay for all the dates. Freddie was incredibly satisfied with her work, and Taylor enjoyed working with them, glad to spend some time with John's friends. They all got on well together, and for Freddie, Brian and Roger, she was a member of the family.

As for John's songwriting, Freddie was still encouraging him to show him his works. Most of the time, his songs were recorded and kept for the albums. They currently were recording a new album, on which two of his songs would figure. Taylor was extremely proud of her little John, and absolutely loved how he enjoyed being in the band.

For her twenty-eighth birthday, John bought her a brand new turntable, so she would not have to imagine the music anymore. She was reluctant at first, but now she was fond of it, turning it on every time John came over.

After a day of many visits at the gallery, Taylor drove to John's house, listening to Queen on the radio. She was humming the lyrics, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. She parked in front of the house, took her handbag and got out of the car. She locked it and ran to the front door. She saw a light in the living room, and went in.

She rubbed her feet on the doormat and removed her stilettos, sighing in relief. She had the impression that she was walking on a bed of cotton. She heard some noises in the kitchen, and smiled.

“Taylor? Is that you, love?”

“Yes, John! I just got back from the gallery.”

John came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands in a rag. He smiled and tenderly kissed her, as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He lightly pulled away and wrapped his around her hips.

“How was your day?”

“Quite exhausting, I must say. Today a group of kids went for a visit and I had to take care of them while explaining them the messages of the artists in a simplified way. It's not easy.”

“I guess it isn't. Does my love want some coffee? Something else to cheer her up a bit?”

“No, thank you, John. But it's adorable. Do you want me to help you for dinner?”

“Oh no, it's in the oven already.”

“Alright. And you? How was your day?”

John pouted lightly, before smiling widely at her.

“Quite good. I went to the studio to rehearse a bit with Bri. He helped me a lot for my songs. I'm sure that Freddie will love them once we'll start to record them!”

“I bet he will, darling.”

Taylor closed her eyes and leant in to press her lips against his, stroking his cheek softly. John helped her remove her coat and hanged it to his coat rack. He took her hand and led her to the living room. Taylor sat on the couch, and John looked at her tenderly.

“Would you like something to drink? I have beer.”

“My John, you asked me already! But you didn't mention the beer. The beer will do. Beer always does.”

She laughed and kissed his hand, before he made small jumps to the kitchen to get them two fresh beers directly from the fridge. He took a bottle-opener and made the caps jump from the necks. He brought them to the living room, giving one to Taylor. He sat beside her, kissing her cheek.

“I'm so exhausted” she sighed. “I'm afraid that I won't last this evening! I'm going to bed early.”

“Alright, I'll follow you, because I don't want you to go to bed all alone, there might be a monster under it!”

“Are you talking about your dirty boxers that you forgot to put in the laundry basket?”

John burst out laughing and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She was giggling, while drinking the beer from the neck of the bottle. She slowly shook her head, staring at its label.

“Hey, this beer's not too bad! I like it!”

“It's a Duchesse Anne, a Breton beer. I found some in a supermarket. Remember, we drank a few bottles of it when we were in Saint Malo.”

“Oh, yes, Saint Malo... It seems so close and so far at the same time, isn't it strange?”

“It is. I loved the food there, I think we should go back to Saint Malo one day.”

“Why not?”

Taylor smiled at him and snuggled against him, spreading her legs on his thighs. He grinned and stroked them, pressing his cheek against her head. Taylor was playing with the corner of the label on the bottle, trying to peel it off. She suddenly looked up at John with a smirk.

“Hey, John... Will you read for me tonight?”

“Of course. What will you want me to read for you?”

“The newspaper! Did you get today's one?”

“I think I did... Yes, Brian gave me his.”

“Great!”

One night, John and Taylor got drunk together, and could not fall asleep. Therefore, they tried to fing something to do. John grabbed a book and started to read it in different voices, making Taylor die of laughter. They enjoyed it so much that they would do it from time to time before going to bed. It was their moment when they were not themselves: John was not the bass player of Queen, and Taylor was not the guide in the gallery who worked in photography too. They were like two children playing together in the same bed, telling each other stories they did not really pay attention to or understood. They just lived for fun.

In the kitchen, the oven ticked. John put down his beer and headed for it, followed by Taylor, who decided that she would lay the table. She took two plates from a cabinet, the flatware from a drawer, and two glasses from a shelf, and brought the whole to the dining room. She arranged them properly on the table, opening the first drawer of a chest of drawers to get two napkins. She grabbed a tablemat and put it between the two plates, as John arrived, wearing kitchen gloves while holding a burning plate of home-made lasagnas. When he put it down on the table, Taylor smelled its perfume and smiled.

“Perfect as usual, Mr. Deacon! Come on, sit down, I'm taking care of the beers.”

She kissed his lips and walked up to the living room to bring back their bottles. Then, she went to the kitchen to take a fresh bottle of water out of the fridge, putting it on the table. She sat in front of John, and served him a piece of lasagnas. She served herself and softly stroke his hand.

“Enjoy your delicious meal, sweetheart!”

“Same goes to you, my darling” he whispered tenderly. “So, tell me, did you take a look at the recent pictures you took of the band?”

“Mmh, I didn't have enough time, actually. I hope you don't mind.”

“No problem. You know that because it's you, Freddie will be very patient.”

“I hope he will! By the way, did you see him today?”

“Not at all, I only was with Brian at the studio, as I told you. We're recording some more songs tomorrow. I can't wait, to be honest. This album will be very different from all the things we did.”

“But each album is different, dear. You give such a diversity to your audience! The songs don't even sound the same! We only recognise your particuliar sound. Bri's guitar is the one it's really easy to recognise. But I would recognise your bass playing in a million, you know! You play so wonderfully!”

“Thank you, Taylor. I hope you will like the new album! A single will soon be released, I don't remember if I told you already.”

“Mmh, I don't think so. But that's great, really!” she smiled while eating a bit of lasagnas. “Your lasagnas are so delicious, as usual! Will you teach me how to cook them?”

“I don't know” he said with a smirk, “it's the Deacon recipe. Is your family name Deacon?”

“No...”

She laughed and finished her plate, drinking her beer at the same time. They both cleaned the table, John taking back the plates to the kitchen, and Taylor bringing back the dish of lasagnas. She covered it with cellophane and put it in the fridge, while John was putting the dishes in the dishwasher. Once he was done, he closed it and turned to Taylor.

“Are you still a bit hungry? I bought a box of pastries at the French bakery.”

“I'll have one, only.”

“Alright, come here.”

John stood behind the work surface and grabbed a purple box, which he opened. Inside it, there were ten pastries: two cream puffs, two chocolate éclairs, two coffee eclairs, two jesuites and two big canelés. Taylor looked at them all with a grin.

“You want me to have more curves, huh?” she laughed.

“You know what I always tell you about your body!”

“I know... If you want to have more curves, then do; if you want to be thinner, then be.”

“That's right! You studied it well, I'm going to give you a good mark! You're my best student, you know that?”

“Of course I know that!”

She laughed and looked again at the pastries in the box, taking a chocolate éclair.

“I'm having that. And you, my little John?”

“I'm having a jesuite.”

He took the pastry he wanted and closed the box, putting it in the fridge so the pastries would not harden. John switched off the light and took Taylor's hand as they headed for the living room. They ate their pastry on it, being careful not to drop crumps or stain it with chocolate. Taylor was licking her fingers, smiling.

“I love those pastries. This bakery's really good! I should go with you one day to see what they have. Perhaps I could buy some for me at home. I'm fed up with supermarket products sometimes.”

“I see” he smiled, before squirming nervously.

“John, what's the matter? If you need to go to the loo, you can.”

“No, no, it's not that. But I wanted to suggest you something, actually. I don't know if you will like the idea, but I would be so happy.”

“What is it?”

John blushed and nervously twisted his hands, gulping with difficulty. He stuttered incomprehensible things, until Taylor stopped him by putting a comforting hand on his thigh. She smiled at him, a bit nervous too.

“John, just tell me. I don't understand what you're saying.”

“Alright... Well, I thought about something, and I've been thinking about it for a couple of weeks now. I'm sure that I want this, but I need your opinion on that. You know, it's been a bit over two years that we're together, and it's the most beautiful thing ever, I love being with you, and when I'm touring or recording, I'm just dying to see you. Unfortunately, you're not always there because you have your job, you have photography...”

“Dear, I too long for seeing you after all this, even when I'm exhausted.”

“That's why I wanted to ask you if... if you would accept... to live with me? To move to my house?”

Taylor's eyes widened, and she was smiling from ear to ear. She bit her lip and nodded happily, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing it.

“Oh, yes! However, I will do it only if we welcome a puppy or a kitten home!” she laughed.

“Alright. What did you plan for tomorrow?”

“Nothing.”

“Well, we'll see for a puppy or a kitten, then.”

“REALLY?”

“Actually, I wanted a pet too. It's so good to have the company of a pet, it's so faithful.”

Taylor screamed with joy and threw herself in John's arms, kissing him tenderly and stroking his face. John laughed and poked her nose, making her pull a face. She yawned, stretching her legs.

“Let's go to bed, sweetheart” John whispered at her.

“No, you told me you would read for me!”

“Alright. I'm taking the newspaper and we're reading in the bed. Mmh?”

She nodded and smiled, kissing John. She stood up and stretched her back, taking the wrap from the pastry to the kitchen, and threw it in the bin. John imitated her and kissed her shoulder.

“I have something to show you” he said. “Follow me.”

He took her hand and led her to a door, which they did not often open. Usually, John used this room to put his instruments or these of his bandmates when they came over. Knowing what kind of room it was, Taylor frowned and watched John opening the door. He switched on the light, and she took a look at the room.

Taylor gasped and covered her mouth with a hand. The room was empty, but many nails were planted in the walls, ready to welcome frames. The wallpaper had been changed, and it was the same one as this of her flat. As for the floor, it was the same too.

“When you move here, I want you to have your personal space, and I know how much you love your empty room, though now it's not that empty anymore.”

“John, this is wonderful! Thank you, honey, thank you.”

She stood on tip-toe and kissed him tenderly, stroking his face. He smiled and wrapped an arm around her hips, looking at the room to.

“I nailed the nails in the same layout, you see. And I did something else for you, but you're too tired to go down to the cave. I hired men to build you a very modern darkroom for your photographs. Freddie, Brian and Roger helped too, but Roger kept hitting his fingers with the hammer, so we made him paint the walls instead.”

Taylor burst out laughing, imagining Roger yelling in pain every time he would hit his fingers. She shook her head and stared at John with love in her eyes.

“Thank you so much, darling. You're the greatest man ever, you know that? We should invite Freddie, Bri and Rog one day, to thank them for their help.”

“Whenever you want.”

John smiled at her and switched off the light of the new empty room, closing the door too. They walked hand in hand to the bedroom, where Taylor opened a door of the wardrobe. As she usually stayed during weekends, John emptied the half of his wardrobe so she could put some clothes in it, so she would not need to bring her clothes every time. She grabbed a Queen t-shirt, which she had bought during the last tour, and put it on after she got undressed. She did not put on shorts, as the temperature in the room was quite warm. She kept her knickers and sneaked under the sheets, at the spot she usually slept on. John was holding the newspaper Brian gave him, and put it down on the bedside table, while he removed his socks, shirt and jeans. He lay down beside Taylor, and she snuggled against him, resting her head on his warm chest.

“Ready for the articles?” he whispered.

“Yay!”

“Alright! What kind of voice would you like me to use for the first one?”

“The cockney guy!”

He laughed and blushed. He usually was embarrassed to imitate the cockney guy, knowing that Taylor was a real cockney, who just got used to the typical London accent. He cleared his throat and read the first article out loud, using a very exaggerated cockney accent. Taylor was bursting out laughing, covering her eyes with a hand, and applauded him after each article. He read the four short articles on the first page, and Taylor pointed at a small one.

“You missed this one.”

“Alright, I'm reading it...”

John cleared his throat and started to read the article, making Taylor laugh again.

“Are mental health care services really efficient? That is the question that we could ask after the tragedy of the Cygnet Hospital of Harrow, Greater London. Yesterday, a patient suffering from schizophrenia committed suicide in the private hospital, after twelve years of internment in the Cygnet Health Care group. Elenore Taylor, 38, born in Manchester, had been sectioned after she tried to murder her then boyfriend, Terry Roth, now dead of drug abuse. She hung herself in her room with the sheets of her bed, after she tied them to the ceiling lamp. When asked if they noticed any change in her behaviour, the doctors only said that she was self-harming when in the centre, mentioning a long scar she had on her right arm. Despite a very strict observation, it seemed that Miss Taylor did not manage to deal with her problems, and still committed suicide. Therefore, one question can be asked: are those services really efficient for the good of their patients? Are the given treatments suitable for the diseases they are supposed to cure? An investigation will be lead to discover the reasons why Elenore Taylor committed suicide, and to determine whether her treatment was appropriate, along with her observation.”

John stopped reading and his jaw dropped. He felt Taylor's body shaking next to him, and he dared looking at her. Her face turned pale, as she was staring at the article. She slowly stood up, her legs shaking wildly. She shuffled out of the bedroom, disappearing in the corridor. John threw the newspaper on the bed and silently followed her.

Taylor went to the kitchen and grabbed a glass on the shelf, absent-mindedly filling it with water. She lifted it up, but did not bring it to her lips. Her hand was out of control, shaking as if she had a disease. She stared at the glass and pursed her lips. She suddenly threw it on the floor, breaking it into pieces. She screamed on top of her lungs, tears streaming down her face. She was punching the edge of the sink and the wall, making her knuckles bleed. John ran up to her and firmly held her arms, before pressing her against his chest. He sat on the floor, stroking her hair and rocking her. She was weeping loudly, screaming at the same time.

“It's my fault! It's my fault! It's me who injured her arm! It's me who gave her this awful scar!”

“It's not your fault, darling” John spoke in a reassuring voice “you just tried to defend yourself, you didn't mean to hurt her, I'm sure about that, love. Shh, it's alright, you're not guilty of anything.”

“A-Am I stupid for crying over the death of someone who deeply hated me and wanted me to die?”

“No, you're not. She was your sister, it's different.”

Taylor sniffed and tried to calm herself. She closed her eyes, letting herself being rocked by John, feeling better as he kissed the top of her head.

“I didn't know that Terry died...”

“You couldn't, dear.”

“Are you mad at me for the glass? I'm sorry I broke it, I'll pay you new ones, I promise.”

“It's only a glass, I have plenty more. Don't worry about that, Taylor. Go to bed, I'm cleaning this, alright? Rest a bit, treasure.”

She slowly nodded and wiped off her tears. She wrapped her arms around John's neck and kissed his lips, before standing up and walking back to the bedroom. Meanwhile, John grabbed a rag and soaked up the water on the tiles. Then, he took a broom and gathered the glass, throwing them in the bin. He switched off the light and joined Taylor, who was curled up under the sheets, sobbing.

John lay down next to her and tenderly wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him. She rested her head on his chest, sniffing. John switched off the light and kissed the top of her head endlessly.

“Sleep, my darling. You'll feel better tomorrow. We'll go to an animal husbandry and look for a puppy or a kitten. Alright? You'll choose the one that you want.”

“Okay... Thank you, John.”

“Don't thank me. I promised that I would never let you down.”

She nodded and closed her eyes, slowly falling asleep. John made sure that she was, before sleeping too.

Taylor slowly opened her eyes, and the room was still dark. She looked at the alarm clock and saw that she had slept only for two hours. Even in her sleep, she could not help but think about the fact that she was moving to John's house. She was incredibly happy, but she had the feeling that she would not be completely satisfied with the situation. She frowned and pondered about it.

What could make her feel complete? What could satisfy her if she moved to John's house?

She had an idea, but rejected it at first. “No, this cannot be” she told herself. After long minutes of reflection, she realised that it was not that bad. She plucked up courage and held her breath as she poked John's shoulder.

“John?” she whispered. “John?”

John did not move. She tapped on his shoulder a bit harder, still being gentle.

“John!”

This time, John slightly moved his head. He frowned and yawned, stretching his back. He moaned quietly and blinked slowly, turning to Taylor.

“Yes, love?” he said in a sleepy voice. “What's wrong?”

“I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Sure, what is it?”

John was a bit grumpy, but did not want to show it. After the shock of Elenore's death, he did not want to be rude towards Taylor. She had enough of bad things happening.

Taylor bit her lip and stared into his eyes.

“Are we going to be best friends forever?”

“What? Of course, sweetheart! We'll never stop being best friends.”

Taylor smiled briefly and bit her lip once again, glad that John could not see her blushing in the dark. As he was waiting for an answer or something, she lightly cleared her throat.

“Let's get married, John.”