Sitting at the morgue, his head down, Mistoffelees glanced up when he heard footsteps approaching. He felt his spine tense when he found Tugger looking down at him. Silence stretched between the two teens for a long moment, and Tugger finally held something out to him. "Here," he said, a wad of money in his hand. "Cor, he had this when he died. I asked Doc, said they were his wages. He was goin' to take you away with them. I thought, well, that you might have them."

Mistoffelees blinked at him a long moment, before accepting the offering.

"Thought you might use it," Tugger continued. "Considerin'."

Swallowing, the smaller teen nodded. "Thank you, I think."

Tugger offered him a strained smile. "It ain't much."

"I," Mistoffelees finally forced himself to look back up at the other. "I'm sorry, for your loss too," he said, voice awkward and stumbling over the words. "For, for Mac. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well," Tugger said, looking back over at where some of the other Jets were waiting for him, Tumble still there. "I didn't lose everything."

Mistoffelees couldn't even deny that he had. The moment stretched between them and with another nod, Tugger turned and rejoined the Jets, leaving the smaller teen with his grief.

Mistoffelees met Coricopat's parents, going to their house the day after the funeral. They were aware enough of changes in their son right before his death to accept that Mistoffelees had wrought them. His mother offered Mistoffelees a box of Coricopat's belongings. It was too painful on both sides to keep in constant contact, but they continued to check in from time to time, reassured by the existence of the other side, reassured that someone else had loved Coricopat.

For a while the gangs stopped fighting, especially each other. But soon enough, other gangs started to appear, and both Jets and Sharks were fighting in other battles even as an uneasy truce remained between the two territories, long after the original members had passed through or along. But even if there was peace between them, there were always new enemies to fight.

It took several years, but Tumblebrutus was able to eventually talk Tugger out of the gang life, giving him a new crusade to fight for after street battles were no longer enough. Ricky joined up with the army fresh out of high school and was shipped overseas when the country entered Vietnam. He never made it home, dying on foreign soil three weeks before he was due to return home. Griddlebone made her way through life via a string of loveless marriages, culminating in one with no love, but much wealth. She never had the children she had hoped for.

Moving away from the neighborhood, and having never slept in that apartment again, Mistoffelees worked his way through college. Pounce followed him, and they split the rent of an apartment halfway between the school and Pounce's workplace. The Puerto Rican student achieved good grades, forcing himself past any dislike of English. Which was not to say it was easy, with being shoved in the hallways and being mocked by his very teachers but it hardly seemed the hardest trial of his life.

One day in the winter, Pounce held out a scarf to Mistoffelees as the smaller student was rushing for the door, trying to cram toast into his mouth while pulling his shoes on. Mistoffelees gave him a long, panicked look before shaking his head and slamming the door on the way out, leaving Pounce muttering something about disturbing the ghosts again.

But it was still years later when one day Mistoffelees looked up at Pounce one day, and said simply, as if it surprised him as much as anything, "I'm in love with you."

Pouncival looked up from the book he was reading and offered the other a bit of a smile, "I think I hoped that, but I'm glad to hear it."

"Oh," Mistoffelees blinked, offering the other a shaky smile.

"I've loved you for a while. As a friend, as a brother, as a love." He paused for a long moment, "Are you alright with this? With loving me I mean."

Mistoffelees considered him a moment with a small frown before stepping forward knocking the book away, and cupping Pounce's face he leaned down to kiss him. Pounce blinked rapidly at that before leaning up into the kiss, almost hesitant as his hand moved to rest on Mistoffelees' shoulder.

After another moment, Mistoffelees drew back. "I can't mourn forever," he said softly.

The other nodded very slightly, "I just don't want to be competing with ghosts forever."

Mistoffelees nodded. "Okay." He paused, biting his lip. "It's different," he said. "Which might make it better. A different sort of love, a different sort of person. It's hard to compare the two." Perhaps it was what Bomba had always implied was better: the non passionate love that didn't make you hurt so much. Not that he had actually spoken to Bombalurina in years-they had never been close again after his brother died.

Pounce paused for a long moment, "Alright. I just don't want to feel like I'm overshadowed by a ghost."

The smaller man nodded slightly. "We'll work on that then. I just, I can't live my entire life in the past either. It's never going away," Mistoffelees murmured, still resting their foreheads together. "But it doesn't have to be the only place I live."

"Thank you," Pounce murmured, "for letting me be part of the move forward."

Mistoffelees offered him a faint smile, stroking his cheekbones. "I'm sorry it took so long," he said faintly. "I feel like you've been waiting for me since I was sixteen."

Pouncival kissed the other very lightly and briefly, "I sort of have."

"I'm here now," Mistoffelees said, voice soft.

"I'm glad," he reached up to brush some of Mistoffelees' hair back a bit.

Ducking his head down, Mistoffelees didn't reply, only leaning down to kiss Pounce lightly again. Pounce leaned up, gently deepening the kiss, one hand combing through Mistoffelees hair while the other rested on Misto's shoulder. Swallowing, the smaller man started to return the kiss with more force, allowing himself to melt inch by inch into it.

The next day found Mistoffelees visiting the graveyard. He'd kept up three graves for the past several years, even though it meant walking from one side of the graveyard to the other. Occasionally he would run into Griddlebone at Macavity's grave, and any time he saw any former Sharks or Jets it felt more like a veteran's reunion than high school mates seeing each other again would.

Leaving the usual orange tiger lilies at Mac's grave, and purple tulips at Munkustrap's, Mistoffelees approached Coricopat's grave with a bundle of white roses, gently setting them at the base of the tombstone. He didn't make a habit of talking to gravestones, but this time he let his fingers trace over the name etched into the stone, before trailing along the top. "I love you," he said softly, the air cool and clear around him, and he shivered. He'd never been able to put on a scarf again, even though various people had tried handing one to him on cold days. "Forever."

Letting his fingers trail along the tombstone again, he adjusted the roses once again and turned away.


So we come to the end of this story. This epilogue was probably the hardest part of the story to actually write and edit. We shall have the last few commentary up soon if you have any interest in our methods or meltdowns and why.

Thank you all very much for reading this story, and we would love to hear what you thought.