☢ Big cheese make me
Message? what is it?  ☢

--- *** ---
--- End of Flashback ---
--- Later that Day ---

"Mmmm!" In the meantime, your constricted pink mouth purred silver-tongued plea of relishing pearly the mouth-watering flavor of the saucy noodles manifested to dawdle on your wet, strawberry-coloured tongue, whereas darting your E/C embers to the former ambitious Monsignor who seated against you on the dining table in the sufficiently expansive, cozy kitchen. Manipulating the monotonously obdurate grind of your pearly-white teeth to munch unceasingly the crispy noodles, the stable maintenance of an eye contact glazing your E/C and Timothy's cocoa brown optics abraded ferociously firm, whereas his virginally long fingers grasped the silver fork and entwining a forkful of thin tissues waltzing around the combs.

"I didn't know you would enjoy the saucy noodles," At the moment, shortly after manipulating his jaw's chatter to grind bluntly sinister his pearly-white teeth to munch perpetually the dinner meal swathing his wet, strawberry-coloured tongue's fat to endure its light-heavy weight of food chunks responding in the swig in a quarter a minute, the British compatriot managed a docile whisper escaping his tongue's fat and surveying you in a sharp scrutiny during the dinner process. Spaghetti's sauce greased lips of the British compatriot almost curled in the process of offering you an angelically benevolent, celestial smile sprawling across his nude, plumpish lips. "Rare bird!"

A wryly nonchalant, lukewarm smile bloomed to buff your naturally roseate, cherub lips at the friendly nickname, emitting a girlishly coy, wry chuckle tickling your jaw as you have endured the process of masticating its countless bite of the dinner meal, trying to obscure beneath your maskless complexion the sheer woe donning your in its thin veil your youthful, gorgeous facial attributes, due to the fact, on one hand you couldn't be more smug to confront your ex-manager, whilst on other hand, you sensed the genuine epitome of patchy bleakness painting with its large brush every ounce of your sentiments and your conscience even the vividly scintillating, explicit reverie scenarios hauled from the reverie realm.

The realm of the purely intoxicating unrealistic realm bestowed you myriad of medleys. The medley of the unnatural ecstasy, purely unconditional consolation and the childlike tranquility chasing you down. Or otherwise, the medley of unnaturally morbid over thinking mission even when it was the least worth it, besides tremendous melancholy and ruthless restlessness rumbling up through your very veins and lacquering your muscles' delicate epidermis armoring promisingly its fleshy layer.

A long day, a handful of prominently ambigous events formatted your entire day's dynamic roller coaster. Certain nobodies would interpret your day as a whole adventurous journey from the doctor's office to rescue Timothy up to home sweet home trading a couple of hours as untouchable bonus with him shortly after no longer obtaining your position in the cafeteria. Whereas the other mass of the nobodies wouldn't deem your day as a divinely complacent nirvana for you at all.

The wee hours of the evening's authentically majestic twilight loomed the small city of Massachusetts accompanying the monunentally roundish pale moon mounting up the starless horizon, whereas a flock of grandiosely translucent hoary clouds outnumbered the palish moon. The luxuriously dark waterfall of darkness pestiferiously pierced the shut window. The eerily tranquil crickets' songs coherently perforated the façade's architecture.

As soon as you left your former work place, consequently you didn't bother to return back at home and accomplishing a few things until the current moment. A briefly relaxing catnap. Spending a few hours in rationally logical and abysmal discussions with the former ambitious Monsignor. Taking a freshly refreshing shower.

"You are a fantastic cook, Tim! Never distrust yourself for whatever your hands and abilities are capable of!" The haphazardness of the hoarsely sardonic giggles you traded as they chattered the kitchen's coherent background for a split second didn't vanish into the thin air. "There are people that always doubt themselves for their abilities or they haven't practiced it for so long, nevertheless, they end up doing them fantastically." Once the infernally emboldening mutter almost died on your tongue, subsequently the former holy priest's smile rabidly rapid broadened and embellishingly dearly his parchment, yet young-looking complexion as your spidery S/C fingers toyed starkly childish the small entity grasped by your fingertips.

"You are so vibrant and optimistic, Y/N!" Manifesting to shake your head in solemn disagreement, thereafter you darted your E/C jewels to the kitchen's window, embracing altruistically sympathetic the vista of the medley of dazzling golden artificial light and the nocturnal's rigidly thick mantle of morbid pitch-black darkness streaming through the window's very glasses. "Isn't that true, is it?"

"Not exactly, Tim! I am just objective and a simple realist." Meanwhile, you shot a mischievously jovial wink at him, lingering your E/C roundish cabochons draining every photogenic ounce of his ghostly pale, vibrantly youthful façade. The starkly truthful tone dancing rhythmically to each word whose vowels and syllables were exquisitely constructed foamed your flexed jaw savagely emphatic. The barbarically crude honesty cocooned cozily each word of yours that sloppily lodged your greasy-stained mouth. The ounce encumbering hypodermically your dainty shoulders no longer transgressed invincibly cordial and the ounce fantastically brilliant whisked with the patchy hollow's waterfall flowing into the thin air, bearing a semblance of the valley of the sable crystalline evanescence. "I can't halt my thoughts to flow into the valley of my overwhelmedness!"

"Hey, it's not your fault you have taken me to the doctor earlier this morning! Your ex-boss isn't even worth an ounce of respect and obedience!"

"You have the right to say it! I don't believe on my eyes there are seamlessly selfish people that care about their bums to be ideally clean after the others soiled their hands for their sake."

"Absolutely! No wonder why you aren't supposed to worry about your manager that has no mercy for somebody that barely arrives late just because they sacrificed their time to save a valuable life!"

"Yeah! Per se," Suddenly you muffled with the palm of your solely free petite, creamy hand the gruffly dry, cold-blooded cough crudely fanning the unblemishedly tender skin as your naturally roseate, cherubic lip twitched humdrum as you cleared your throat momentarily. The British aristocrat's inexorably infectiously worrying his front ivory teeth nipping at the delicate skin of his fleshy bottom lip while razor-edgedly headstrong honing his ears to bloodthirstily hair-rising eavesdrop every adequately constructed utterance of yours formatting your eventual revelation surging through your oral cavern, bearing a semblance of the high-pitchedly despondent tiger's roar. "I'll make my mind what to work next where my boss won't gnaw on me every time whenever I'm late as if it's a mankind's big-shot issue at the moment and doesn't think low of me just because I haven't arrived in time like a few times at least."

"You are actually doing the right thing!"

"I know it matters that I should be always punctual without missing any single opportunity to not disappoint the one who hired me to give me a hand to strive for my survival," The pause's unwelcomingly nonchalance stung your tongue once you channelized your gray fork to yank a forkful of tiny, wavy tissues entwining circa the tines recklessly, whilst the former devotional member of the clergy retrieved his glass of starkly translucent, relentlessly crystal liquid as his pristinely long, dexterous fingers cradled the compact entity and taking a meekly promising sip hydrating his oral caverns and berry-coloured tongue once he dumped the fork in the plate. A heavy, jaded sigh snorted through your tiny, flexible nostrils at the very thought of your ex-manager and his rawly stringent methods of treating his employees and solemnly oathing to stabilize his business with a handful of unhallowedly spine-chilling, unimaginable compromises he has gifted everyone who served him. "But I may contact either of my friends to work for them even if takes me months to get employeed again."

"Take your time! When you get the job, you will quickly forget about your former boss and his stringent attitude, you know!"

"That's correct!"

The heavenly soothing tone spotlighting the British aristocrat's British lilt in his emboldening utterances leaking the absolute reality's austerely unwelcoming, unpromising domino masking its wicked façade and plastering the true frontage of the crudely unforgiving, sporadic tribulations agitatedly participating to stumble every courageously obdurate individual to fulfill their ultimate felicity and peace at last. Little did you know how serpahically calm enveloped in divinely versatile wisdom timbres of the former pious clergyman can cast its bewitchingly mesmerizing hex on you as if you were his recent prey of his wonderfully blowminding charm and incredible charisma.

--- *** ---

--- A Couple of Hours Later or So ---

--- 22nd of December, 1964 ---

Once Boston's common frigid early wintery evening became a victim of the midnight's lull or rather transgressing into the very wee hours of the morning formulating the new day's eve indubitably hasty. Shortly after solemnly vowing one another with the former aspiring Monsignor a good night and crawling back in your beds in two of kind rooms you were separately kipping,

Drowning in the hazily inebriating abysmal ocean of the daydream's realm of its beehive of unnaturally nirvanic dreams it benevolently graced you to sup graciously each coherently trancing wave, you couldn't help once you came to your senses and your groggy E/C cabochons landed on the clock on your left nightstand nonetheless. Perusing approximately a quarter of three o'clock in the morning instantaneously dinged recklessly blunt into your vortex of thoughts.

The insomnia's invincibly invisible spectral furrowed eagerly persistent your very being to deprive you from the beauty coma that graced you with perpetually generating energy and nutrients through the night, bedaubing your tender, fleshy muscles to glide whenever you altered your positions as you flipped your frail skeleton on the other side, in order to articulate its fleetly coveted comfort swaddling your frail skeleton. Notwithstanding the circumstances, the convenient king-sized bed bestowed you with myriad of unconditional warmness, in spite of the icily solitude casting its shadows and demons in the darkest corners of the site and haunting you during your kipping mission.

Seating subconsciously on the edge of the bed and ushering to fashion into balled fists your petite, femininely feather-soft hands into balled fists to rub the infectiously groggy layer of your eyes, subsequently a blatantly blunt yawn bubbled up from your throat and muffling it with the palm of your hand humbly until your E/C roundish bijous didn't land on the partly opened velvet curtains leaking its nocturnal light piercing the window beamingly and petering out the chances the site to fade into the pitch-black's oblivion. The evanescence of midnight's ambience gingerly amiable conducted the phenomenally breathtaking tranquility pitching the background, formulating its rich flock of angels and devils boldly daredevil grumbling its inner voices inside your mind and eavesdropping the lethal numbness of the recent episode's time. Each promisingly welcoming second ticked unnervingly.

In the interim, the series of conjugated steps trancing into nefariously resilient, surreptitious murmurs against the floor on your expedition to the imminent destination to dart out of the guests' room and descend the stairway, in case to hydrate yourself just moments before assimilating its alternatives to drift off asleep unthinkably quicker than your vortex of thoughts could articulate the fantastically ideal idea as well. A straight line remarkably adorned your full profile and your virginally dainty, nimble fingers ghostwriting the railing of the elegantly polished stairway until you skittering stealthily inside the kitchen, lingering its recurring reminder to not disturb the former aspiring Monsignor in three o'clock in the morning.

When you stepped inside the kitchen and resuming the pretty guiltless destination for a glass of water during the insomnia's episode jumpcutting to its celestially precious apogee suffusing its accent to the protagonist, thus the solitude embraced the landscape of your pools of profoundly jaded E/C glazing each detail painting the illustration as you maneuvred your front pearly-white teeth to nibble your upper lip uneasily and approaching the counter in a long stride. Meantime, your petite hand's virginally smooth fingers managed to retrieve a brilliantly clean, unused yet glass from the kitchen's cabinet, whereas your only free hand's tissues worked on the faucets' turned and moderating the jetting water's temperature splashing against the marbled surface of the kitchen sink, articulating its restlessly dull symphony tingling alarming tones into your ears.

Arid oblivion conveniently settled in your hurricane of thoughts at the very thought of Timothy's stealthy sneak ghosting the site's ambience eerily self-conscious built its fat bricks of icy shivers paradoxally ticklish razzing your spine. The reassuringly seductive, yet otherworldly doldrum waltzed in the site and amicably chaperones you nonetheless. There was always something enigmatically mesmerizing about the tranquility in the very wee hours of the morning, regardless if you shared a roof with your pet, a pearly precious one of a kind relative of yours or otherwise yourself. The reassuringly calm ode of the loneliness can be interpreted in various of versions even when the huge assemble of different perspectives analyze each uniquely meaningful fragment of the isolation's pluses, minuses and genuine sentiments' surfing the coherent waves of the stormy tempest inundating the area.

As soon as an opulent mass of liquid cozily rectified to the rim of the flimsy glass and your fingers worked on turning off the faucets immediately, consequently pair of familiar arms snaked circa your waist. Creamily muscular, masculinely strong. The arms' owner robbed you from the adequate breathing and mobility of your abdomen, sensing its tight bind invitingly granting its oddly unconditional warmness and enticing love suffising ambiguously contagious to apocalyptically assault your worries and loneliness even the glaciers relentlessly villainous buffing the untouched areas.

Little did you know what the former pious man of the cloth was doing during the insomnia's bloodthirstily morbid episode as well. What you could solely format as a response subconsciously emphatic riposting to the ferociously fiery impulse coursing through your very veins and pulsating into your figure was being caught off guard and timidly flinching at the protectively consoling, doting touch grazing your tissue. Stifling the series of blatantly ruthless, categorically straightforward gasps and indistinctive noises bleated in the thin air and subconsciously chiming into your blizzard of thoughts for eventually unpredictable scenarios if they emerged in the crudely cold world at such bone-chillingly embarrassing moments, a childlikely mousy, contently weak grin curved upon your brim mouth and pursuing boldly for the older gentleman's ogle impaling your full profile instantly as if his pools of profoundly poetic, warm coffee brown hoodooed each timidly twinkle dancing beneath your optics and the ogle of the wizard, himself, manipulated everything to motion and quiver depending on his bewitching ogle's hex nuzzling the target.

"Goodness, Timothy! What are you even doing at this time of the morning?"

"I can't sleep," All of a sudden, the gracefully warm breath faintly fanned the nape of your breath once dozens of feather-soft affectionate kisses peppered the back of your skull and sensing the heavenly sluggish nuzzle of Timothy's nose tip brushing the nape of your expanse, admiring the crispy softness of your bare flesh contacting his soft nose. The fiercely wild acceleration of your heart pulses sheepishly severe thumped into your brittle ribcage and syncing its throb into your vulnerable ears. The strong-willed attempts of your fingers grasping firmly the compact entity with transparent liquid ebbed off as you left it aloof on top of the counter and molted candidly into the heartwarmingly affectionate nuzzles and loving kisses, followed by the sensually humble confession almost dying on Timothy's tongue. "Again, Y/N!"

"What makes you struggling to drift off asleep, darling?"

"It's just my insomnia that re-appears quite often." At the moment, the British aristocrat subconsciously ushered you to adjust your posture as your E/C round embers kindled to embrace the vista of the pretty bleakness of the kitchen table except for the sheet of paper glimmering past your eyesight. Bare nonplus at the vista glinted severely luminous into your stare transfixed on the desolated sheet of paper settled on top of the table as well, whereas the delicately pristine, orthodoxy creamy fingertips traced gingerly the very curves of your abdomen and burying his nose tip to inhale solemnly meaningful its authentically deluxe fragrance of the recently used shampoo lubricating every lock of your satin halo ringlet. "Moreover, I wrote something different than just a message. It's a short poem."

"What kind of a poem?" A sharp exhale fiery scorched haughtily the older gentleman's frail lungs at your inquiry, begging for its an immediate response and its childishly innocuous inquisitiveness highlighting the very timbre of your Maryland lilt.

"Aw, it's better for you to discover it on your own! It's a surprise, my rara avis!" Pressing his naturally baby-pinkish, brim lips to the top of your head to elaborate its cherubically nirvanic peck, afterwards you channelized to approach the dining table categorically and your digits working on yanking the blank as your E/C rotund minerals examined in a studiously wary scrutiny every detail and its prominently ebony ink etching every letter of the wee poem paged up.

Big Cheese

I didn't know what the life's destiny has cooked for me

Except the life is full of surprises

Whether raw or freshly prepared!

I was questioning myself yet once I joined the church

That no girl will ever dare to apparoch me

Or at least making my own efforts

To keep in touch with her!

The big cheese is the one

That has landed her beautifully diamond eyes

On that work and currently reading

My thoughts flowing in its brilliantly crystalline

Waterfall of my fantasies tantalizing me brutally!

I don't know how incredibly lucky can I be

Especially right now!

Her beautifully diamond eyes scanning

Each letter etching the word

Of my very thoughts!

Her brilliantly sparkling smile casted at me

As if the demon has plans for me

But she is the purest angel of God!

Her majestically comforting voice

Touched prominently by the heavenly

Nirvana of her angelic very being!

I feel like I'm the big cheese's forbidden fruit

Beneath the Eden's green highlands

Being her favorite and only fruit!

Her glossy lion mane of H/C flawless strands

Framing elegantly her stunning profile!

Her voice

Her smile

Her altruistically sympathetic nature

Are the very reasons of my glee!

The big cheese of my glee

She's the one of a kind angel

I have never found anywhere else in my life

It felt like a missed opportunity

Until she just appeared in my life

Or somehow God reunited us

Like his prominent God Messengers!

A poem for my lovely rara avis Y/N

"Timothy," Opting to catch your breath per a couple of seconds as a helplessly broad, huge grin embroidered on your face crinkled your youthful lower eyelids and turning to face him instanteously once you pursued courageously for his very reaction at your initial enthralled impression at the beatifically impressive poem he has poured his entire heart and train of thoughts to delight you. Unimaginable euphoria meaningfully marvelous cloaked your facial features at the breathtakingly poetic, encouraging words and shifting your utter attention to the former holy priest as you threw your satin arms to brace him in an amicable, tight hug sealing the very space you traded with one another. "That's really splendid! I genuinely love that poem. I just don't have the words to describe your exquisite talent poured in every verse!"

"It's only for you, my rare bird! You are the true reason why I'm still awake and it forced me to write it for you!"

Author's Note: Since we are slowly but surely descending to the sweetest moments awaiting Timothy and the female reader, of course, as a writer I know what I'm actually doing with the story and what surprises are awaiting my dear readers! 

What are your thoughts on the chemistry and the relationship bonded together Timothy and the female reader trade with each other? Do you think the female reader is going to work for one of her friends or she will be employed somewhere else? 

Don't forget once you have read this chapter and you have truly enjoyed it to leave a feedback! I'd like to hear your thoughts! I hope you like and enjoy this chapter as well! Stay tuned for the forthcoming updates! :)) <3