Allright, so I'm pretty sure this would be called a oneshot, though I'm not all that familiar with the terms. xD
I got this idea while watching "Elizabeth," like, the Cate Blanchett movie, you know? And I don't know. I just got this picture in my head of this.
Anyways, I don't own CATS. So, have fun.
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The face of the moon shone down upon the Jellicle cats as they danced lightly across the junkyard, each involved seemingly in their own little world as they softly touched their paws to the ground, only to leap into the air once again. Each seemed happy and pleased with themselves, particularly our dearest friend (or mine), the tuxedo cat known as Magical Mr. Mistoffelees. Or just Misto, that worked too.
The black cat spun and pranced, more confident on the dance floor than he was off it as he flitted eagerly around and between the assorted cats parading about him. They were all in slow motion to him, all of them moving slowly and cautiously in comparison to his swift yet dexterous movements. He flicked his tail as he danced past Jemima, barely seeing the calico as she turned lightly on one paw.
Though he had not spotted her, she had spotted him. Mistoffelees. The timid young tom who had stolen her heart.
Meekly, she danced after him, having trouble keeping up. She was nothing compared to him. It was so difficult just to keep up, just to follow him with her eyes, let alone her feet. It seemed as soon as she was close enough to speak to him (though she'd no idea what she'd say) he'd be gone again, gone amidst the mass of cats, writhing and twisting before her, ever-changing.
And even as he was pursued, unbeknownst to Mistoffelees, he had caught the eye of another.
A tom, black and white and older than the younger tuxedo cat, but still fascinated with his graceful movements, following him with his eyes. Alonzo moved away from Cassandra to trail him, a smile gracing the second-in-command Jellicle Protector's smooth features, but even he had difficulty keeping up with the agile Mistoffelees. He was larger than Jemima, and so it was more difficult to clear crowds, though in the end he was much faster, often getting close enough to nearly call out to Misto before he was once again out of earshot and out of sight.
And, though he was hunted by two lovers, still Mistoffelees jumped lightly through the air, poetry in motion. He was the handsome black stag and Alonzo and Jemima were his hunters, the wolf and the fox weaving through the woods after him.
The young calico queen wasn't entirely sure what she was doing. This was stupid. She would never catch up to him. Even if she did, what would she say? Most likely nothing; she'd be too nervous to speak, even if she got the chance. What would she say to him, Mistoffelees, so breathtaking as he was, so shy as he was away from his dancing? "I love you"? Too plain. And so, hopelessly, she gave up the chase, sinking back into the crowd.
Alonzo soon resorted to the same; he watched the young black tom spin away as he paused, hopeless and tired. What was the use? He was stronger than Mistoffelees, yet he'd never catch him.
And Mistoffelees danced, danced until the sun turned the sky rosy, and then he stopped and once again withdrew into himself, becoming shyer and aloof as was his mannerism. As he quietly swept off towards his den in the pipe, he was watched by two pairs of eyes.
Two regretful pairs of eyes.