It has, and always will be Munkustrap. He was the first cat I ever laid eyes on, barely older than I was. The Queens thought I would be an outlier, a late addition to the Jellicle litter, but the other kittens warmed up quickly. Everyone knew Bustopher was my father, he was who brought me, but he never would say who my mother was. I have a feeling it was someone he wasn't supposed to be around or that would lower his status. He never claimed me as a son, but everyone knew. I was a low street cat, living and dying by the tribe and getting into fights. I never let him forget that I was his, that I was better than what he thought of me. I have no bitter thoughts towards him, that's just how we are. But all I have is pride, and he didn't get to ruin that when he was trying to save his own. Raised by Jellylorum, I kept to myself for most of the younger of my days. I was so young that I don't remember much, but I remember Munkustrap. He was who I opened my eyes too, one of the other kittens born earlier into the season than I. He'd been seeing for weeks, maybe months. Even then Demeter wasn't far behind him, Bombalurina running off to tell Jellylorum that I'd finally opened my eyes. From then on, it was always the four of us. Bombalurina, Demeter, Munkustrap and I were inseparable. Jenny was there a lot, looking after us while Jelly dealt with the other growing toms. Jenny was probably the only one who could stand to take care of the terrors that Bom and I were as kits. I rarely left Munkustrap's side, only apart when his family called to him. Then he had less responsibility, Macavity was still some semblance of sane and in line to be the next leader. Macavity, that graceless asshole. I always hated Macavity. Before all the fire, the kidnapping, I hated him for picking on Munkustrap. When you were around someone as much as I was around Munkustrap, you can't help but notice when things start to change, when the playful dancing between the four of us turned to three and a single audience member. And Demeter, I hated Macavity because she loved him. The only thing I will ever give him is he wasn't afraid to show interest in toms, but even then, it was tainted with immorality. I was always a little in love with Demeter, but back then Munkustrap had stars in his eyes whenever he looked at her. He deserved her, truly, not in the backwards way they fell together in the end. Tugger came along soon after, a small bundle of joy that all the queens fawned over. We were terrible by then, Bom already drawing attention from the other toms. Cassandra had slunk out of her hiding, raised by one of the older queens that passed on before the Jellicle Ball we all know now. She never liked me as an adolescent, I was too wild, I had too much energy and too many hormones forming. That stage was when I realized that I loved Munkustrap the way Jelly loved Gus, that was the best idea of love that I had. Gus was more spry then, he still was doing Pekes and Pollicles at the ball.
I was barely an adult when we had the first ball, the ball Macavity chose Demeter to be his mate. A lot of it was a blur, though, not entirely from the excitement. I think most of us blocked out that time, the time where Macavity was the shining star of the tribe. Munk barely danced, he couldn't, it was already that bad. He stayed in the sidelines, sitting at his father's side and watching over the bubbling almost kitten that was Tugger. I do remember the fire behind Macavity's eyes when Munk did the Invitation to the Ball at his father's request, I was at his feet ready to rush to Munk's side in excitement. He did so well, he'd always had that voice, the one sweet and soft as snow but powerful enough to silence the junkyard. I forgot about Macavity soon after, too caught up in the magic that came from the Jellicle Moon and the prospects of dancing with my family. That year we did Growltiger's Last Stand with Jelly and Gus for the first time, Munkustrap had nearly bounced with excitement at the idea, but honestly, he stole the show from the two of them. He has always truly been "a proper thespian".
The next ball didn't happen. I don't remember much of Macavity's treachery, but it stopped the tribe for a year. Demeter fell into shambles, newly mated and left alone, her love leaving behind a trail of ashes and bloodshed. Munkustrap was quickly taken under his father's wing, and the longer we were apart, the more it haunted me that I wasn't going to be happy with anyone but him. Munkustrap emerged a new cat, a leader, dutifully watching after his brother and the rest of the tribe. How could I be so selfish as to force myself onto him at that point? How could I burden him with my feelings, with the scandal of two males mating? I couldn't, I couldn't do anything but take any burden from him, help him in any way that I could. He was, he is, my closest friend. He is the light in my life, all things good. I had stars in my eyes every time he graced me with his presence. I'd not seen him for weeks, maybe months during his time spent with his father. I'd made friends with Cassandra, Plato, George, all of them by then. Tugger was growing fast and joining the group of toms. Rumpleteazer and Mungojerrie were already causing trouble. Munkustrap came back, and it was like the world stopped spinning. He was beautiful, he was always beautiful, but he was grown up. Now bigger than I was, if that was possible, and unbelievably hansom. Everyone noticed, all the queens, all the kittens. The small shining star of the tribe had grown into the sun, bringing light back into our dark days.
When things got better, Bom and I took it upon ourselves to help him with dancing. He was leader now; he was going to have to lead the Jellicle ball. His wounds now healed, it was less about the pain and more about working around the damage. Munkustrap had every ounce of grace a Jellicle should, he caught on fast to the basics. Even if he couldn't do as much as we could, anything was better than letting that graceless asshole ruin him for life. We never pressured him; we had all the patience in the world for our kind friend. Besides, it was an easy excuse to get him alone and away from the queens. I think Bom knew, that I was in love with Munk, she insisted we do couple dances together so that she could watch. I don't think Munk ever danced with anyone anyway, other than the small playful exchanges with the kittens. I didn't mind, it allowed me to get close to him, in ways other than just out friendly affection.
I might hold Munkustrap in a minorly unhealthy high regard, but can you really blame me? He's…ineffable. Like you took all the beauty of the Jellicle moon and the sweetness of late summer sunrise over the countryside and put it into a cat. That's Munkustrap. He's the only thing in my life that's ever mattered outside of my duty to the tribe. I would do anything for my family, I love them deeply. But if anyone in the tribe ever hurt Munkustrap, I wouldn't hesitate. Not for a second.
Tugger became rowdy with age, strutting across the yard and getting on everyone's nerves. Quaxo came late in the year, one of two tiny kittens that appeared in Jelly's care nearly overnight. He and Victoria, Victoria, I may have fallen in love with her if I'd been left to my devices for too long. Mistoffelees remembers so little of his life, probably because of the pain that caused his passing, I wonder what his mate remembers of their life before the Jellicle Ball where Mistoffelees got his name. Soon after their appearance, Demeter was stolen. It all happened so fast, none of us saw it coming. We'd not heard a word from Macavity since his disappearance. And as soon as she was gone, she was back, and she was different. She was no longer my Demeter, not then at least, he'd ruined the headstrong lightning bolt of a queen that was my friend. She never stopped shaking; every noise hit her like a strike across her back.
I'd never wanted to kill a cat more than I wanted to kill Macavity the first time I saw Demeter when she returned.
And then there was Jemima.
Jemima.
Our Jemima.
My Jemima.
She was in no doubt Macavity's daughter, a spitfire from birth, but she grew into the spitting image of her mother with each passing day, and in her eyes was Munkustrap. I knew no greater honor than being her godfather, her caretaker if anything should ever happen. The real pain started then, when Demeter and Munkustrap became public as mates. Even though I had resigned myself to a life of loving him from a distance, seeing him with another was an entirely different story. Everyone talked about it, it was all anyone talked about. How perfect they were, how good he was for her, how much better he was than Macavity, how sweet it was that they had received a kit so soon. No one knew, but it tore me apart.
That was when I became the flirt I'm now known as, instead of just the attractive but dutiful tom I'd always been.
Cassandra was the obvious choice, our mating done in secret after the Jellicle Ball we all know, but even though she was my mate, she was not the only one I sought comfort in. It was before their relationship, Plato and Victoria, Plato more so. Both of us were eventually mated, after which he became completely devoted to Victoria, but he wasn't shy about his attraction to toms. He didn't have the place in the tribe that I did, that we did, nor did he have the fear of being outcast and innocent blindness Mistoffelees did. I made myself forget every affection Munkustrap ever showed me, every lingering glance, every time we curled up together, everything. I remembered it periodically, but I made myself forget as soon as I could. I never wanted him to know that I loved him as deeply as I did, I played my part as the loyal second and best friend.
I'll skip the ball, you know what happens at the ball.
When Tugger died, I don't think anyone expected it. Teazer was who came to me, bloodshot eyes and sore throat, fumbling through her words and dragging me to the scene of the crime. I'd never heard Munkustrap scream before, and it was too much to bear. Demeter and I had to all but carry him back to his den, leaving him to Jenny for comfort. I wanted to stay with him, more than anything, but as second in command I had to do what he couldn't. What I could never ask him to do.
I was who told Mistoffelees.
He'd been practicing, alone in the night as he often was. Tugger was his only true friend, Victoria spent most of her time with Plato after their mating. Coricopat and Tantomile were stalking the edges of his stage, watching in silence. They were the only other Cats who saw his utter break. I don't know how it's possible to scream in silence, but maybe that was because of the deafening roar that came with his magic. I don't blame him, I don't think he had any control in that moment. Mistoffelees had never shown such an emotion, I'd never seen him shed a tear or show sorrow, and I only think he's shown that in small part to you since. He was there, he was crying, and then he was gone. All that was left was the split down the center of the stump in the yard and the singe marks on the floor. We didn't see him again until the ball, we heard rumors, the weird twins would occasionally have news of him. He appeared in true form during the ball, sparkles and all, and sent the tribe running from the floor in respect and surprise. His eyes were bloodshot, his coat uncared for, thin as a rail, the once proud and proper tom an utter mess. Deuteronomy and he shared a gaze for a long time before Mistoffelees fell into a dance that can only be described as lonely, a duet without a partner, a true telling of his heart. I felt for that dance, it stirred up old feelings that I worked so hard to repress. His magic was not the same, it was unsteady, weak. It fizzled as soon as it appeared, the once brilliant sparks and dazzling lights dim against the night sky.
His message was clear.
He wasn't the same without Tugger.
It was bittersweet to watch him go, Jemima and Victoria cried for what felt like days. It was for the best, everyone knew it. Mistoffelees knew it. His emotional state made him unstable, his magic wasn't the same, he was more of a danger to the tribe than the hero he once was, and it was killing him.
Time passed; life went on.
And then mine ended.
There was a threat to the yard, I've said that I don't remember if it was Macavity related or if it was just other cats getting too close to our borders and threatening the tribe, but it was Macavity. A roar in the silence that had fallen over the tribe, Jemima was getting older and we were on high alert. She looked just like him, he was going to figure it out. His henchmen, two of them, jumped me on a patrol. Plato, bless his beautiful dumb heart, tried to help me, but I called him off. I told him to stay put in case there were more, get the others. They knew me, by name, taunting me. Macavity had always seen a threat in me, even more so after the ball, but even then, he used magic to stun me for a reason. "The shadow" he'd called me before, always at Munkustrap side, never straying from the tribe, never taking a family. The tribe was my life, and he knew. He learned to take Mungojerrie and I more seriously after the happenings at the Ball that you know. I was run into a work yard, steel, that had a rather nasty Peke guarding the equipment. Another cat jumped me from the top of the fence, cornering me. All I could hear was that damned dog, barking and snarling like the uncivilized mutt he was. It was an entirely unfair fight, three against one, but I couldn't back down. I didn't want to die here; I couldn't leave the tribe alone. But, it didn't matter. I wasn't as young as I used to be, and it was three younger cats against me. The fight felt like it lasted forever, all I could think about was Munkustrap, getting home to him. I was bitten, badly on the neck, and another scratch caught the soft underside of my stomach. I took one of their eyes out, I think, I'm sure I broke a leg in the scramble to get way. I re-grouped with Plato and the other toms who took off after them, I was dragged to Munkustrap and Demeter's den after nearly fainting halfway through the report. Three days I spent laying on their floor, bleeding all over Munkustrap's fur and having to hear poor Jemima scream questions at the queens who wouldn't allow her in. I was infected, I remember Cassandra saying along with some foul words towards the other cat. Demeter held my head in her lap, trying to keep me awake while they did all they could to help me. It was pathetic, I was pathetic, crying into Munkustrap's shoulder while fumbling through apologies. He was the first and last person I saw, who my eyes opened to as a kitten, and who they closed on as an adult. My everything, my entire life bookended by love I could never have. The last thing I remember is the sound of his voice, I was too weak to keep my eyes open, humming softly as shaking hands gently pet my fur.