I found this little story on my computer back in June; apparently I wrote it back in 2020? I remembered back then wanting to write a story for Timothy Scott's (Original Broadway Mistoffelees) birthday (which is today, September 15th! :D) and this is what I came up with. Of course I never posted it that year. Anyway, it was initially supposed to be longer, but it's been so long since I first started that I can no longer remember how to continue. I've decided it's okay the way it is and I hope you guys think so, too. Happy Birthday, Tim!

It had been awhile since the Magical Mr. Mistoffelees had paid a visit to the Jellicle Junkyard. He missed seeing the faces of his many friends, but with the new chapter of his life came new priorities: He had been happily living with his mate for a while now, wanting to make sure he spent as much time as he could with his tomfriend before it was inevitably taken away.

It was becoming more evident as time went on that this would be his only life. The magician didn't seem very distressed over the matter, however. Of course he had been hoping for a cure, like the rest of his friends had- perhaps he'd even live to see the next Jellicle Ball and be given a new life-but if it should be that the Everlasting Cat had other plans for him, he supposed that was okay, too. He'd hate to leave all of his friends, especially his beloved mate, yet he'd be glad to keep the memories; memories he'd bring with him when the Everlasting Cat finally took him home.

How he'd love to have the strength to go visit them all now. He'd scarcely make it there; the journey was just too far.

Norman had been bustling around as of late, taking care of his mate's needs, be it a bite of food, a lap of water, or simply his company as he stayed faithfully by Mistoffelees' bedside. Thankfully, to Misto's relief, his tomfriend had help with all this: Jenny or Jelly would come by on occasion to lend an extra paw or two, which was especially helpful on the magician's worse days. Even so he wished none of his friends or his beloved mate would have to endure seeing him in such a state. But Norman had made a promise. He would never leave Mistoffelees, no matter how bad of a turn things took.

Right now they were just comfortably nestled side by side in their nest in silence, thankful for every little moment the Everlasting Cat had given them so far. It had occurred to Norman that, despite all the time they shared together, he didn't know when Mistoffelees was born.

"Hey, Quaxo?" Norman preffered to call Mr. Mistoffelees by his first name, instead of his flashy stage/surname. It was more personable.

"Yes, Norman?"

"When is your birthday?"

The tux gazed up to the ceiling in contemplation. "Sometime in the fall, I think, or close to it."

Norman's eyes widened in surprise. "Well, Everlasting, the fall is upon us already!" He smiled slyly at his tomfriend. "Anything you want?"

Mistoffelees returned a tired smile. "Well, right now I'm sort of thirsty..."

Norman playfully but gently batted him. "You know I didn't mean right now, silly." He

"But I'm curious, Quax. What do you want for your birthday? Surely it must be something."

The tuxedo closed his weary eyes. "Go up to the Heaviside Layer," he answered with a sigh.

He honestly didn't think anything of his words, but when he opened his eyes and saw the obvious hurt on Norman's face, he immediately regretted saying them. He scrambled out of his bed despite his weakened state, tripping over the sheets and himself as his mate turned away. The room spun as if he had performed a pirouette or two, but he shook it off.

"Norman, I...I'm sorry." He wrapped his arms around the tom. "I didn't mean...Oh, Bast, I..."

How could he have said something so stupid? And what hurt further was that his mate didn't even look at him.

"I should have known that wasn't the right thing to say. I'm sorry, Nommie."

"It's okay," Norman replied, in a tone that might have suggested otherwise. "I understand."

The toms finally met eyes, Norman looking right into Mistoffelees' beautiful blues, and suddenly felt just the way they did when they first met. He cracked a small smile, to which Misto was pleased to see as he smiled back.

"I understand," Norman repeated. "I really do."

His mate's smile dissapeared, blue eyes averting to the floor in shame. "Yeah, but it was still a stupid thing to say."

"No, it wasn't. It was a genuine wish."

"But I hurt your feelings, Nommie..." the magician said kittenishly.

Norman had to smile again, though this one was bittersweet.

Misto felt a gentle paw touch his shoulder as he gazed upward, met with Norman's warm, reassuring smile.

"You didn't mean to hurt my feelings, Quax. And things like that happen sometimes. You know the drill."

Mistoffelees grinned. "As the humans say?"

Norman's heart swelled with love upon seeing that grin. Beaming; bright; beautiful. Just like Mistoffelees. Norman nodded. "As the humans say."

Misto placed both paws on Norman's shoulders, letting out a contented sigh. That dorky grin was still plastered onto his face.

"So are we good?"

Norman smiled. "We're good," he confided with a nod.

Mistoffelees gave his mate a chaste, affectionate lick on his cheek before they both nuzzled heads. "I love you, Norman."

I love you too, so much, Norman replied silently. That's why it hurt when you said...

"You should get back in bed," he said when they parted. "You must be freezing."

Mistoffelees smirked playfully, a look that said 'you worry too much'. "I'm fine, Nommie. It's really not so bad at the moment." His eyelids drooped. "Although I am pretty tired, come to think of it."

"My point exactly. Come on, let's get you in bed."

Norman led the tuxedo to their warm, cozy nest and helped him settle in. Misto looked up at his mate with a hopeful smile.

"Join me?"

Norman didn't hesitate and readily climbed in beside him; purrs and nuzzles were fondly exchanged.

The title of this fanfic (as well as elements of the story itself, not counting the birthday stuff. :) ) comes from an Instagram post from Norman Buckley—Tim's partner—made some years ago, speaking about moving on after his death:

"I felt my life was over that day with his. But of course that wasn't the case—my life continues and I've gone on.

"But the most amazing thing is I feel as though Tim has gone on with me. I cannot explain this, nor do I mean this in some magical or superstitious sense, but I have always felt Tim's presence around me, for these 32 years, a force of love lifting me up. And years later when I met Davyd, the love I felt with Tim became absorbed into the love I felt with Davyd; one took nothing away from the other.

"What I learned in both of those profound relationships is that love is not something measured in quantity; it is a state of being—it is the thing that endures, that continues, that survives. I feel that love from both of them still."

Rest in peace forever, Timothy. Happy birthday.