First in a collection of one-shots based on colors.
If you want to request a color and pairing or singular cat, go ahead. I'm completely and totally open to incest, slash, and femslash. Warnings for such will be given accordingly. I'm going in a random order, not rainbow.
Human elements.
"Beauty, to me, is about being comfortable in your own skin. That, or a kick-ass red lipstick."
-Gwyneth Paltrow
When she was little, Bombalurina would go through her mother's makeup when she left to work and smear it all over her face—to her, it was attractive, but that was really all it looked like. Purple lipstick daubed on her mouth, sticking in the white fur on her face. Bright blue nail polish covered the majority of the tips of her fingers, and eye shadow stuck to her eyelashes. Blush covered her nose, forehead, cheeks, and chin. She wouldn't touch the mascara, because she didn't really know what it was. Momma didn't really like it when Bombalurina wasted her makeup, though—it was designer stuff. She needed it, needed to look good for her clients.
Sometimes, though, mom had a bad night and came home early. Demeter would giggle at Bombalurina's misfortune, the red kit trying to get the stuff off with hot water and a white towel. Bombalurina would soon realize some makeup was supposed to last for long periods of time. The Glamour Cat would stare at Bombalurina with narrowed eyes—lips puffy from rubbing, faded lipstick covering the area around her mouth, a stained towel in her tiny, nail polish covered fingers (Bombalurina didn't now how to get nail polish off, and she couldn't pick off all of it in two minutes). And for the rest of the night, Bombalurina would be seated on the edge of the porcelain bathtub, tears in her eyes, as Grizabella-mommy-dearest washed her face clean with a scalding water-soaked towel. An especially scratchy one.
When she became a tween, Bombalurina asked if she could have her own makeup. It annoyed her that Demeter, who had actually been offered makeup by their mother, didn't wear any at all and still looked gorgeous, while Bombalurina was stuck with a "plain," unpainted face. It took weeks of whining, but eventually the red queen won the battle.
And that was two months before mom left.
/
There was no tearful goodbye. Just kisses on the cheek and unanswered questions, and finally the click of the back door. Bombalurina woke to not the smell of a cheap McDonald's breakfast, but to the faint sound of Demeter crying in the bed next to hers and the faint like of her lamp.
"Momma's gone," Demeter said when Bombalurina sat next to her, a wrinkled letter in her shaking hands. In a jerky movement, Bombalurina tore the note out of Demeter's hands, scraping yellow nail polish off of her thumb with her teeth.
Grizabella had pretty handwriting. Half cursive, half print. I's dotted with dashes, not dots, and Y's with fancy loops. And in that special handwriting, Grizabella wrote,
Dear Demeter&Bombalurina,
Mommy has a lot of stuff she needs to take care of. I'm just so tired.
I love you girls more than anything. I'm just a crappy mom.
Auntie Jenny will pick you up from school. Hope she's not mad.
So much love,
Momma.
Bombalurina and Demeter skipped school that day.
/
It was all about them now. Demeter and Bombalurina against the world. They'd survive no matter what it took. They ran away, Bombalurina's heels clicking against the pavement. They can't find a place to say, so they camp out in an alley, and Bombalurina finds herself glad that it's summer.
That night, when Demeter is finally sleeping, Bombalurina grabs her purse with trembling hands and scampers away. They needed money. They needed a home. (If she had a cell phone, Bombalurina would have thirty voice mails.)
She puts on a tiny, sparkly dress she stole from her mom's still-full closet and walks the street nonchalantly. She doesn't care that she's still a virgin. She doesn't care that she's barely fourteen. She's tall and she's pretty and she's desperate.
She chokes back tears as a car stops next to her.
/
When Demeter finds out, her punch leaves a bruise on Bombalurina's cheek.
/
Bombalurina told her not to get involved, but she did. The red queen didn't realize Demeter was faking sleep when she got up and left their nook. She didn't realize her client would react that way when she broke them up. She didn't know if she was supposed to be angered or relieved when Demeter pulled took her by the wrist and dragged her out of the car.
She decided she'd be thankful. She ignored that they never went back to get their stuff from the alley, and that her last sentimental possession of her mother's was a ring.
"I can't believe you, Bombalurina." Said the gold queen, the two sitting in a booth at some dive, greasy French fries in the middle of the table.
"What else was I supposed to do, Demeter?" Bombalurina hissed, grabbing the bottle of ketchup.
"Get an actual job, that's what!" Bombalurina squeezes the ketchup bottle so hard that the poor French fries drown in the condiment.
"What job could I get, Dem?" She asks, ignoring the street urchins listening to their every word. "I'm fucking sixteen!"
The two are quiet, tears silently streaming down Bombalurina's face.
/
On a clammy August night, Munkustrap, Alonzo, and the Rum Tum Tugger see the two on the street. Bombalurina wants to run and hide—she can't look the Tugger in the face—but Demeter runs into Munkustrap's arms, burying her face in his chest.
"Where were you two?" asks the Tugger, stepping towards Bombalurina. She wants to crawl into a hole, forget what she did to survive, or at least live the way a teenager is supposed to (and pray she doesn't have any diseases).
"A lot of places," Bombalurina tries to joke, but her voice cracks.
No one asks any more questions, but the air is tense, and Bombalurina's hand itches to hold the Tugger's.
/
When she's old enough (she's still not mated even if Demeter is, and she has no kids, and she doesn't totally mind because "married" is just another way to say "bound"), Bombalurina has almost forgotten about her past. But it's hard to forget when the very embodiment of all your bad memories comes back.
How dare she sing about her days in the sun.
How dare she ask for forgiveness.
Bombalurina wants to punch her so bad. She almost feels guilty when the other cats accept her and she just stays back, black nails digging into her palms, so she eventually steps forward, and taps her mother's hand so as not to contract whatever disease caused her to leave her innocent daughters on their own.
Afterwards, she ignores her mother like the plague. She puts on her jacket and her highest heels, smears on a fresh coat of bright red lip stick (with shine) and drinks her brains out.
She knows she was a bad girl because she wakes up in a hotel room, alone, and naked.
/
When she's a little older, Bombalurina gives birth to the Rum Tum Tugger's child. It's not a little girl, it's a little maned boy that they name Drell.
She can see the regret in the Tugger's eyes as she helps their kitten take his first few steps, waddling over to a brightly wrapped Christmas present. She can see the way he covers it up when Drell goes over to him, happily thrusting a tiny little box into his crotch. Everyone laughs when the Maine coon keels over, and Bombalurina decides that maybe marriage isn't just a prison.
/
She dies at the grand old age of thirty-six.
It's funny because when she got hit, the girl driving was putting on lipstick.
Yay! Happy ending, right?
…Why do I kill my favorite characters?
I really don't know what this had to do with red besides some obvious things.