✝ But without the dark,

we'd never see

 the stars.✝

--- *** ---

Shortly after the exorcism which could be rather interpreted as gruesome, naked fiasco, smoothly gliding through the sequence of the young man's demise due to an abrupt heart attack and the pious clergyman's faint and his direct transportation to the infirmary, the sole visitors which he earned through his senseless condition were Sister Mary Eunice and Sister Jude.

The progression of the nocturnal's daily episode was more obvious in the agitatedly inwardly ticking indication of the time, Sister Mary Eunice ventured to flee the infirmary within a quarter an hour later unlike her mentor.

The exceeding compassionate sides of the both pious women of the cloth haphazardly engulfed their time to supervise and yet disappointment inking their facial attributes roughly, factly, Timothy hasn't even moved a single muscle, nor his tongue forging opulent noises.

Little did the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer know what awaited her in every elapsing moment. What she was fearing of was losing one of the most outstandingly dearest person whom she shared a pearly close relationship even developing intensifying romantic feelings for him coalescing with impure thoughts, populating her stormy tempest of thoughts which was an exquisitely abstract sanctuary, incessantly functioning and gearing each thought which she was swimming through.

The Bostonian has almost no one whom she could dedicate her uniquely celestial trust which was solely remarkable and meant pearly to the closest people of her inner circle, shrunk to minimalistic scale such as Frank, Mother Claudia, Sister Mary Eunice and Timothy.

If one of her compact inner circle plummets with one more significantly precious person especially the love of her life, on the contrary the Bostonian would scarcely imagine the fresh death of her one of a kind friend even love interest to be suffocated by the insurmountable demise, succumbed in sore pain and agony.

The former sleazy nightclub singer was seating comfortably on the edge of the hospital bed, her fidgety, elvish hands viciously tugging in claws her conservatively rigid, dark wool habit's hem, attempting to compose her own seating posture, suffocated in disquietude.

"Mmm!" Humming the soft, velvety tunes in an indiscernible, quiet groan, dripping from the British compatriot's lusciously dry mouth caught off guard the older lady. Her heart leaped and skipped a beat in a dancing tandem. In the interval, his brittle eyelids blinked frequently in a humdrum choir until they registered wrenched widely opened, fixated on the vulnerability, roughly graining the former licentious nightclub singer's facial attributes. A vaguely prim, kind-hearted smile flashed sheepishly, boyishly upon his naturally nude pink, plumpish lips.

"My goodness! M-Monsignor," Elaborating the pattern of naked merriness and headstrong relief willingly jointed her breathy gasp once constricting her chest, grappling even mercilessly, ominously rougher her rigidly dark wool's habit hem, narrowing her pools of abysmally photogenic caramel brown at his youthfully fresh, parchment complexion. "T-Timothy, yar awake finally! It's a relief to see you still alive and staying strong!" The candidly emboldening caution, composed in a sheepish stutter rolled out of her strawberry-coloured, wet tongue promptly, faintly pitching the background in the desolated infirmary, where their very presences were prominently occupying the outskirts.

"Rare bird," After a resiliently brilliant doldrum suffocating the both pious members of the church in a small bubble of their formulated own miniature world, the British aristocrat's timid, hoarse timbre hardly synchronized rhythmically with the syllables and vowels almost dying on his tongue tip, whilst addressing with the extraordinarily friendly nickname and spurting out of his tongue tip forcefully, his pools of mistily abysmal coffee brown alight by her presence.

"It's not yar fault at all. Ya had an accident."

"W-What an accident?" The misty memories from the exorcism of the possessed teenager fogged the duo's hurricane of thoughts frequently and rendering the British aristocrat questioning the abrupt location's change in his case. The last thing Timothy could ever recall was accompanying the newly hired Dr. Thredson, Sister Jude and Sister Mary Eunice in the bleakly poor furnished ward whilst struggling to bash the demon out of his Jed's frail skeleton with prayers and tranquilization. The explicitly graphic recollected memories from the heinous exorcism still immersed his gearing cells and almost blanching, enervating perpetually, overthinking and reconsidering how in the final moments of Jed's life the vile essence dwelled out of his body and momentarily foreshadowed the sequence of the devotional clergyman's faint. Fortunately, he wasn't alone at all and the witnesses could confirm such explicit information, illustrating realistically, evocatively every fragment and every detail behind the gloomy spiritual possession's utter abolishment. "I remember so far he passed away from heart attack, if I'm not wrong."

"You aren't wrong, but ya fainted," Suddenly the younger man's breathing hitched and violently contracting his lungs until a refreshing, arcane groan jettisoned his brittle lungs, inhaling inwardly, furtively the pungent scent of heavy medicaments, human perspiration, human flesh and orthodoxly clean bed sheets. "I'm deadly worried about you, Timothy!" One of her elvish, creamily trembling hands manifested to reach for his well-carved, chubby cheek, consequently cupping it in the palm of her amusingly, soothingly warm hand, lowly droning a silver-tongued, tuneful hum under her breath, solely discernible for the pairing.

What it tore the former licentious nightclub singer's heart was how small, weak and vulnerable appeared to be the aspiring Monsignor especially after the ominously grueling exorcism of the young boy with the gliding sequence of a villainous blackout, swaddling frostily his muscles and bones even his consciousness, spellbinding him in a temporal slumber.

How a mere exorcism of a young man who was about to enter in the adulthood could pass away from a heart attack and thereafter the vile essence dwelling out of his figure shortly after his demise with crawling perkily into the revered ambitious Monsignor? How a conjuration could lead even a member of the clergy to have his utter figure violently commanded by a demon? The demons were commonly encountered in the Middle Ages even earlier when everything was just chaotically developing the world and the methods in general.

"Ya aren't alone at all. Ya deserve to rest instead of exhausting yarself with such fatiguing responsibilities as much as we have." Her swan thumb traced gingerly, featherly soft his well-sculptured cheekbone, admiring his ethereally stunning facial features as his facial expression snapped with unwavering concern and disquietude when the responsibilities and tasks were ongoing and his absence was critically compulsory.

Moreover, the man of the cloth could scarcely imagine anybody else being in charge of and replacing him during his severe recovery from the events, situated in the ward where the once spiritually possessed young man was exceedingly clashing mentally and physically even with the vehement aid of professionals, encircling him.

For his own relief, the thought of the fewest people that are genuinely, candidly caring about him and his condition in general were his last, vibrant hope nonetheless. Sister Jude, Sister Mary Eunice and you were the top people that could be even barely counted on a single hand's fingers and indicating your genuine care or at least altruistic sympathy you've for Timothy. His three of a kind or rather Holy Trinity were the only ones who encircled warmly, glowingly with your very presences or at least sheer optimism his hallowed spirit and could grace him with high-spirited hopes of quicker recover from the woeful conjuration.

--- *** ---

--- A Few Hours Later or So ---

The woeful Halloween party that you held in Dana's home slithered apocalyptically to your faint shortly after acknowledging the breaking radio news about the aspiring Monsignor's recent health condition and his faint when the infernally possessed young boy passed away from a heart attack after strong-willedly, bloodthirstily clashing with the demons physically and mentally under the strong influence of syringe, divinely sacred prayers, your friends conveyed you stealthily to the guests' room double bed after your incident and your senseless condition yet stifling your muscles and bones.

In first place Dana and Barb were pensively leaning to believe that you're allergic or at least having issues with drinking liquor unlike Frederic though who emerged to be slightly logical even overcome with speculations behind your blackout. Although your close group of buddies deeply know who's Timothy Howard and his altruistically humanitarian treatment towards you, compared to the rest of the madhouse when you were falsely imprisoned against your will, Frederic was the sole friend of yours who was potently, categorically thinking that you're somehow head over heels in love with nobody else than a holy man and just after the breaking news' announcement about Timothy's blackout and Jed's death even though at first the German-Canadian and Mexican compatriots were finely disagreeing with him on his rationally peculiar symptom of your insensibility.

When you came to your senses lastly with wrenching widely opened your {E/C} minerals to glimpse at every corner of the recent room which you were occupying with your very desolated presence, thick ebony mantle was clouding your vision, in spite of your doubts. Your cherub, chapped lips quivered under the antagonizing common chilly climate permeating in the expansive jet-black coated room until the sole vowels and syllables which awkwardly lurched on your tongue tip were impulsively expressive, scarcely brightening with your one of a kind, outstanding rationality and logic. Nonplus and uncertainness of your thoughts were crucially contaminating your numbness, shaking timidly, featherly soft your head to regenerate the cells and their youthful energy again.

All of a sudden, dim bright yellow gleam emanated from the bashfully opened door's gap as the older man peered, lowly humming absent-mindedly an elating tune, solely discernible for himself and his jade green gemstones vibrantly, kindheartedly alight by your current condition of dwelling out of your reverie's realm. A weak, benevolently mischievous smile permeated across his chapped, plumpish lips, wearing thousand patterns of childlike, naked optimism.

"{Y/N}, you're awake!" Huskiness passionately, prominently tugged his stutter, insecurely examining in a scrutiny the last hope of light that was gleaming in illumination your petite-frame. His pristinely masculine, stubborn fingers were dancing and bracing the askew opened guests' room door.

"Mhm!" Bobbing your head in solemn agreement urgently ushered him to step inside the expansive room by shutting the door behind him, in order to prevent any further, unwelcoming hostile figures to disturb your recently paired platonic duo.

"That's good, {Y/N}! I, Barb and Dana," After his fingers idly danced on the light switcher and manifested to saturating illuminate every outskirt of the guests' room, the light bulb erupted a saturating golden light, depicting your two of a kind illustrations with golden brush, painting you from head to toes. "You know, how much we were deadly concerned about your faint while the breaking radio news was ongoing."

"I-It's true, Frederic! I think I drank a bit too much or I had a food poisoning." Clearing softly your throat with a mere, coldblooded cough vibrated your throat, whereas the older man approached and subsequently participated in your amicable company, suffocating the loneliness with his delightfully comforting presence. "Or perhaps, I don't know what on earth is going on with me, but,"

"But what, dear?" In the interval, his mammoth, flabbergastingly warm, reassuring hand reached for your petite, parchment hand and throughout jointing it in a reassuringly kindhearted grasp, lowering the megawatt decibels of his husky voice, puncturing his fatalistic concerns about you and your condition in general.

"But it happens to almost every one of us." Even when you could scarcely formulate a rational response, nevertheless, anything that impulsively, fiercely pronged your hurricane of thoughts was subsequently composed and expelled from your mouth.

"It doesn't happen like that to faint while sitting on a table with your friends and the radio news are announcing about the person whose name imprinted in your head like tattoo."

"I-I don't know," The vibrantly soothing warmness, thickly spurting your petite-frame due to its emanation of its grasp, reconsidering your curtly slurs, you slammed your front ivory, firm teeth to nibble reccuringly the raw spot of your lower plump lip.

"How you don't know, {Y/N}? I know how much do you give a damn about a priest that you won't see ever again," The haphazardness of your friend's pauses were subtly sedating your cells even diminishing the chances of freshly reproducing another logical retaliation, limping in your throat and quirking your eyebrow with great deal of bewilderment. Unhealthily pale pigment blanched instantly your vulnerable flesh and electrifyingly silken goosebumps overally pricking your epidermis. "But that faint is quite weird. You can't just pass out after hearing on the news about a person that you don't know even his damn past."

"Frederic, you don't understand how much did cost him to grant me the freedom from that insane asylum where he was the only one that considered me perfectly sane."

Author's Note: I'd like to apologize for the delaying updates, besides this sloppy chapter, I opted to take a break from this book for a while and subsequently overcome with freshly new, creative ideas how to resume this book especially for Timothy's enthusiasts. I hope you liked and enjoyed this chapter as well! :))