'39 - A John Deacon FanFiction

Chapter 1 - A Mysterious Visitor

Notes: cover image by notthatgoodoflockscreens on tumblr.

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I was relaxing on my couch, just watching some television. I liked living on my own. It allowed me to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. There wasn't anything wrong with living alone except the fact that I felt lonely...a lot. I was a bit of an introvert and living alone didn't give me much of a reason to go out. If I had a roommate, maybe she would want to go out and do things and I would tag along. But, there wasn't any of that because whenever I would get a thought to go out and do something, I would think 'or I could just stay here and do nothing'. And that side of my brain always won.

My parents didn't like that their 21-year-old daughter was living alone without a boyfriend. They wanted me to be in a much better spot in life. They wanted me to marry a doctor or a lawyer and they were starting to lower their standards already. Telling me they might settle for someone else, like a dentist. Either way, they wanted me to marry someone successful who I could live off of and be a nice housewife. But, they were old fashioned. Other than feeling depressingly lonely some nights, I quite liked being single. The fact that I was willing to have infatuations on people whenever I wanted without feeling guilty was something I liked. But, my parents' words rang through my head practically every day, 'A man isn't going to just show up at your door, Amy."

Oh, how wrong they were.

I heard some hurried footsteps outside my door. I lived on the second floor of a two-story building. The walls were pretty thin, so I could hear any talking or walking outside of my door. I raised an eyebrow as I turned off my TV to go investigate. Living in New York made you constantly wary of a robber or criminal of some kind. I grabbed a Louisville Slugger baseball bat that I kept by the front door, just in case someone was trying to pull something on me.

I looked through the peephole of my door to see a man hastily knocking on my neighbor's door. I couldn't make out what he was saying, but it sounded harsh and a bit whiny. He kept looking around. His long brown hair flowing behind him as he turned his head. I looked at his outfit. Bell bottom jeans, high-heeled light brown boots, and a black long-sleeved top. He was rocking onto the balls of his feet, as much as he could with the high-heels. Clearly perturbed by his surroundings. I put down the bat, knowing that if this was a robber, they were a great actor. I opened the door and stood in the doorway. He heard my door open.

"Is everything okay?" I asked. He rushed over to me.

"No, it's not," he said in a thick English accent that I never heard before. Well, actually I had heard it once before. It was John Deacon's accent. I looked the man over one more time before realizing that the man in front of me was a spitting image of John. Like too much of a lookalike. I squinted my eyes at him.

"Do I know you?" I asked. It couldn't be who I thought it was. There was no possible way. I figured he must have just looked like John.

"I don't think so," he replied, still hasty. "I really need help. I'm afraid I'm lost."

"Strange place to get lost. How did you get here?" I asked, hoping that knowing where he came from would help me figure out how he got lost.

"I don't know. I don't have the slightest idea." He replied. He was shaking a little and he looked genuinely scared of what was happening.

"Um, okay. Come in. I'll try to help you," I said in a softened tone of voice. I gestured inside and closed the door behind him. He walked in, admiring the apartment around him. He sat down on the couch and stared up at the TV, now completely dark. "Do you want some water?" I asked.

"That would be lovely," he replied, never taking his eyes off the TV. "What's this?" he asked. Pointing up at the black rectangle. I scrunched my face up at his question.