John stuck the last band of sticky tape on the purple gift wrap. With a satisfied grin, he admired the two presents, ready to be given. He put them both in a colourful plastic bag, before walking to his coat rack in the entrance of his flat. He put on his white blazer over his black and white shirt, tucked in his white trousers. Then, he sat on the floor to put his grey high-heeled boots. He stood up, grabbed his keys, the bag he prepared, and rushed out of his flat. He locked the door and ran outside, stopping next to his brand new car.

Queen's latest album, A Night At The Opera, had finally been released in November, and it was a huge success: Freddie's Bohemian Rhapsody was in the top ten, and John was surprised to see that You're My Best Friend was not far behind it. With all the money they earned for the album, John passed his driving license a second time and bought a new car, so he would not need Roger anymore to move anywhere or go to the studio.

The albumwas a great success, but not only in the United Kingdom: it was a worldwide success. Therefore, the band played some gigs everywhere, but their biggest events took place in Japan. Freddie got really excited to tour there a second time, as he was a huge Japan lover. The four musicians were pleased to travel and play there, knowing the important interest that the Japanese had for their music.

John had kept in touch with Taylor all this time, from September to April, and the more they saw each other, the better they got on well together. He invited her for dinner many times, at his own flat or at a restaurant, and every time his eyes landed on her, he fell in love deeper and deeper. However, he kept all his feelings for himself, especially after Taylor said that she was fine being single. At least, she was her friend. One of his best friends. They spent afternoons laughing in her empty room, among the empty frames nailed to the walls, writing stupid songs or imagining crazy stories, about dragons or slugs. They felt happy whenever they found themselves with the other, far from their everyday life and troubles. She even brought him to the airport when he left for Japan with the band, and stayed until she could not see the plane in the sky anymore.

John started up his car, after he carefully put the colourful bag on the seat next to him. He drove away from his street, with only one destination in mind: Whitechapel. He still had not called Taylor to tell her that he was back from Asia; he wanted his comeback to be a surprise.

He turned on the radio and heard You're My Best Friend. He sang along, with his window wide open. He was proud, proud that finally, he could sing to himself and to others, and that his bandmates now saw him as a good songwriter. He felt like he could do even better, and knew that he would prove everybody that he was a real artist.

A few minutes later, he parked his car in Whitechapel. He did not park it in front of Taylor's flat, fearing that she might guess that something was going on. He grabbed the bag on the passenger seat and got out of the car, looking at himself in the wing mirror, fixing his hair. He locked the car and ran eagerly to her flat, ringing her bell. Then, he stepped back, so she would see him through the window.

Taylor was sitting in her living room, her legs spread before her on her old couch. She was reading a book about Japan, which she bought at the airport when she brought John there. Knowing that Queen was leaving for Japan made her curious about this country, and she wanted to learn many things about its culture.

She raised her eyes from her book for a second, staring at all the postcards pinned everywhere in the tiny room. She sighed and imagined herself going to all those places she knew by heart thanks to the photographs. Her lips stretched into a warm smile when her eyes went from a Bengali postcard to a new picture she pinned there. It was not a postcard, quite the reverse: it was a picture of herself with John, which she took before he left for the tour. This was the only one of them two, and she hoped that it was not going to be the last.

For a minute, she considered slipping the photograph into one of the empty frames of the empty room. After all, John was the first thing she achieved in her life. She had a friend. A real friend, who was deeply interested in her, and so was she with him. They could tell each other everything, and they would still like each other a lot, without being judged.

The doorbell roared in the corridor, and she jumped, making the book fall on the floor. She grumbled and ran to the window of the empty room. She opened it and leant out of the window, closing one eye, as she was blinded by the sun. She caught a glimpse of a tall man holding a peculiar bag in his hand, wearing white. He had long wavy brown hair. It took her less than a second to recognise who this was.

Her face lit up with a wide grin, as she shouted.

“JOHN DEACON!”

When she ran out of the empty room, she did not even bother closing the window. She did not bother putting on shoes either, before scurrying off her flat, running down the stairs as fast as she could. She pushed the front door and ran to John, her arms outstretched. She jumped happily in his arms, shouting happily and feeling tears coming to her eyes. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, as he gently put his bag on the ground and hugged her back, stroking her hair with a wide grin. She was laughing uncontrollably, and some of her tears stained John's white blazer. He patted her back and made her land on the ground carefully.

She cupped his face with her hands, staring right into his eyes. As she was about to speak, her voice got stuck in her throat. She laughed again and closed her eyes, before pressing her lips against his for long seconds, tightening her embrace. With the emotion, she even accepted to deepen the kiss a little bit, simply moving her lips, so they could 'hug' his. John's cheeks were burning, and he joined her in this dance, wrapping his left arm around her waist, his right hand stroking her cheek and hair.

When they broke the kiss, Taylor was blushing heavily, her pretty eyes were shining. John dried her eyes and kissed her forehead.

“Good morning, Taylor Taylor.”

“Good morning, John Deacon. You really should be under arrest, you know.”

She snuggled against his chest, wrapping her arms around him. He laughed and wrapped his arms around her again, resting his chin on the top of her head.

“Oh, really? Why?”

“Because I missed you too much!”

“Oh, then I'm terribly sorry, Milady. What can I do to be forgiven?”

“Bring me home and tell me everything you know about Japan!”

He smiled, picked up the bag, which he carried across his shoulders, and picked her up. Surprised, she shouted and tilted her head back, laughing out loud. He carried her, bridal style, to the door of her flat, opened it with his shoulder and let her stand up in the corridor. She smiled widely and stood on tip toe to kiss him briefly on the lips. She took his hand and led him to the empty room, closing the window. She took his blazer, and walked out of the room. She hanged his coat to the octopus coat rack, to which John tied sunglasses one day. She went to the kitchen and poured hot water in two cups, putting tea bags in each of them. She grabbed two clean tea spoons, put the whole on a tray, which she brought to the empty room.

John was sitting on the floor, a wide smile pinned to his red cheeks. He was with her again. And she deepened the friendship kiss. However, he made no fuss about it. He knew that it was the only time she would cross the line with him. He heard footsteps coming and looked up. She was there, carrying a tray with cups of tea, which she put on the floor before him. Taylor sat down, getting closer to John. She handed him a cup, and he took it, thanking her.

“So...” she said. “What was it like?”

“It was awesome! The halls were full at every gig we played! I never thought we would gather so many people!”

“I told you!”

“And once again, you were right, my Taylor.”

She laughed and drank a gulp of tea, staring at him eagerly, waiting for him to keep telling her about the tour.

“I visited new places there, I had already told you about those I visited the first time I went to Japan. I saw new temples, and I saw new parks. I have the pictures with me, let me show you.”

John stretched out an arm on his left, grabbing the colourful bag. He took out a small pocket, full of pictures he took. He gave them to Taylor, who watched each of them with her jaw dropped. She could not believe all the things she saw. All the sun-drenched temples, the blossoming cherry trees, the green grass and the shiny rivers. John told her everything he learnt when he was there. He showed her pictures of the band wearing kimonos, and Taylor laughed.

John cleared his throat and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding the bag.

“This is for you.”

“What? No, John Deacon, don't tell me that you brought me something! No, no, no!”

“I did, and I don't care if you complain.”

Taylor's jaw dropped, and she took the bag with a trembling hand. She put it on her lap and opened it, seeing two presents inside. She grabbed the first one, the heavier, and stroked the purple gift wrap.

“John Deacon, you didn't do that...”

“Will you open it?”

He laughed and kissed her cheek. She opened it slowly, and discovered an old Japanese wooden box. Her jaw dropped.

“OH MY! John Deacon, this must cost an arm!”

“Open it.”

She nodded and opened it carefully. Inside the box were piled one hundred postcards from Japan. She took them and looked at them all.

“Are you serious?”

“Every time I walked by a postcard shop, I bought all the beautiful ones. And here they are.”

She put the box aside and threw herself in John's arms, kissing his cheek endlessly.

“Oh thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Hey, there's one present left!”

Taylor laughed and sighed with a grin, shaking her head. She grabbed the other present, weighing it in her hands. It was not that heavy, but it was really thick. She unwrapped what it contained and covered her mouth with her hands, gasping loudly. It was a kimono. A traditional kimono. She jumped on her feet and spread it before her eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks. John stood up and hugged her from behind, kissing her neck and resting his chin on her collar bone.

“John Deacon, you're definitely crazy.”

“No. I definitely like you, and I knew that you would love it. I couldn't go abroad and come back with nothing for you!”

“Thank you. With all my heart, thank you. Stay there, I'm going to put it on!”

She kissed his lips and ran to her bedroom. She got undressed, throwing her clothes across the room. Then, she wrapped herself in the lightest kimono. It almost looked like a dressing gown. Then, she covered her body with the two others, tightening them at her waist with a large obi, the special belt for kimonos. She tied a thick knot in her back, which gave her the impression that she was a maiko, a young geisha. She lifted up her pillow and grabbed her elastic band, before combing her hair into a very elegant bun at the top of her head, letting a long wavy lock of hair hanging on each side of her head, before her ears.

Taylor shyly walked out of her room and headed for the empty room. She stopped before she entered it, hesitating.

“Close your eyes, John Deacon.”

“They're closed.”

She took a look in the room to make sure that John really had his eyes closed. He did not lie, his hands were covering his eyes. She took a deep breath and walked in, going to him and stopping before him. She gently held his wrists, and removed his hands from his eyes. He blinked a bit and admired her. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped, as she spun round to show him what it looked like on her.

John shook his head and stared into her eyes.

“What can I say?” he whispered. “You're beautiful! You're gorgeous, just like the rising sun!”

“Thank you, John Deacon. But you made me look this way, today.”

As he was going to protest, she pressed her lips against his, cupping his face with her hands. This time, she did not deepen the kiss. Actually, John did not mind; he knew that if she did it once again, it would have given him false hopes. Surprisingly, he was quite grateful for the way she kissed him. However, the kiss was not short. They stayed there, snuggled against each other, their eyes closed and their lips resting against the other's.

When they broke the kiss, they hugged one last time, before sitting on the floor again. Whereas John sat just like he did before, Taylor carefully knelt down, holding her cup in the palm of her hand, the other wrapped around it, before taking it to her lips. Noticing John's look, she blushed.

“I saw geishas doing that in old films.”

“They actually do that, but not only geishas. When we went to Japan in 1974, we drank tea in a huge green park, with Japanese women who showed us how to drink it. They were dressed in traditional kimonos, just like this one I brought you.”

“Oh my... John Deacon, I will never leave this kimono, I swear! It's way too beautiful! I'm in love with it!”

John laughed and kissed her cheek, before sitting cross-legged, showing her how to drink tea like the Japanese. He did not remember everything, but they laughed a lot trying to imitate them. When the cups were empty, they pushed the tray aside, and lay on their back, hand in hand. They were staring at the ceiling, chatting about everything and nothing. They talked about Japanese traditions, flights in planes, touring... Every time silence fell, they quickly find a topic to break it.

After an hour of chatting, Taylor sighed and snuggled against John's chest, resting her hand on his opposite shoulder and closing her eyes, whilst he pulled her a bit closer, kissing her hair.

“You know, when you were in Japan, I heard You're My Best Friend on the radio. Many, many times.”

“Did you?”

“Oh, yes I did! Every time I heard one single note of it, I stopped and listened. I'm very proud of you, John Deacon. I told you that you had something.”

He smiled and gently squeezed her against him, pressing his right cheek on the top of her head, rocking her slowly, humming the song. After he did, a silence fell upon them, until Taylor sighed loudly and opened her eyes.

“You're really lucky to be able to travel everywhere...” she whispered. “I never left London.”

“I promise that you will leave it one day. Perhaps will it be sooner than you think. You'll see Japan, Australia, everything!”

“I want to see Brittany.”

“Why?”

“My mother was born there.”

“Oh, yes, you told me once. Sorry that it escaped from my memory. How come that she went to England? Where does she live, now?”

“She is dead.”

John's eyes widened. He blushed and started to sweat nervously. He tightened their embrace and kissed her hair endlessly.

“Oh, I'm terribly sorry, I didn't know... Pardon me!”

“You couldn't know!” she chuckled lightly. “Her name was Aanor Karadec, she was born in a city that's called... huh... Saint-Malo, I think. I don't look like her at all, but in my memory, she was pretty. She met my father, Roderick, during a trip to Manchester, where he was born. They dated, and got married not so long after that. They had my older sister, Elenore, and they moved to London. But I don't know, both were depressed, so they started to drink. Even more when my mother knew that she was pregnant, ten years after they got my sister. She was drunk the day I was born, that's why I'm called Taylor Taylor. They thought it was funny, and as I was unwanted, they took the blame on me. They died in a car crash when I was... thirteen, or something like that. My sister was twenty-three, so she raised me. But she was a drug addict, and still is.”

“Oh shit...”

“She spent all the money she had to buy drugs, so we were broke. I lived with her until I was fifteen. I met a guy, and I ran away.”

“Have you seen her since this day?”

“No. But I received some letters, and they were threatening. Luckily, she won't find me here.”

“Was the guy the one who was fond of Jack the Ripper?”

“Yeah... 'Twas 'im.”

“But it was ten years ago, how old was he?”

“He was about my sister's age. And he was really, really rich.”

John nodded and kissed her hair again.

“Don't worry, I won't hurt you like he did.”

“Come on, you're talking as though you were my newest boyfriend!” she giggled. “I know you won't hurt me. That's why I'm staying with you. We will never hurt each other.”

John smiled and stared at the ceiling. He was shaken by Taylor's story. He could not even imagine the pain she must have felt after her parents' death, though they did not seem to treat her right. He imagined her sister, Elenore, and what she did to her to make her decide to run away. He shook his head and hugged her tighter again.

“Don't worry, Taylor Taylor. One day, you'll see Brittany. You'll even see Saint-Malo.”

“Will I?”

“Oh, yes. And you will never see London ever again. All those postcards you own... You will be on them. At each monument, each landscape... You'll be there. And you will travel, and travel, and travel, until you'll get tired of it.”

“But I will never get tired of it.”

“In that case, you will do it until you draw your terminal breath. And I tell you: it's worthy.”