By a beaten-down frame of an old Volkswagen, six male cats held conversation quickly, the words flowing from mouth to tongue in such swift moments each one himself had a rough time following the conversation. A lone she-cat accompanied them, perched atop the highest part of the car's frame. She spoke rarely, an unfocused gaze clouding her eyes. This female was Tantomile, a psychic feline and twin of her slightly taller brother, Coricopat, who also possessed the same powers. Tantomile kept to herself and let the men go on. She had no reason to join in on the completely unnecessary conversation. Plus, the males had managed to make themselves look like the kittens by now with this gossiping. Rolling her eyes, Tantomile turned her ears slightly towards the conversation. She tuned in just as Alonzo muttered,

"So what? It doesn't apply to us. Who gives a shit?"

Tumblebrutus, a patchy brown and white tom, crouched to his right and interrupted with caution. "Maybe so, but Pouncival is right…it is strange.." It cut off mid sentence, Alonzo's death glare hinting for him to be quite. Looking down upon Tumblebrutus, he snorted once more and growled his next words:

"He hasn't changed. He'll go back to his old self. It doesn't apply to us, I said."

It was Pouncival who spoke next. From his spot on the dusty dirt floor, he argued, "Yeah. We know, Alonzo. Why can't we still talk about it? It ain't hurting anybody to gossip a little!"

The oldest tom, Asparagus, rolled his eyes. "You're making us sound like Queens…."

Coricopat nudged the older tom in the shoulder. "Give him your support," He guided quietly.

With a sigh, Alonzo gave in to the war and kept quiet in his fur. Satisfied, Tumblebrutus began again, "I just don't understand!" He spoke with astonishment as his eyes flicked to each cat in the circle. "It's not like him at all…I mean, it is, but it hasn't been for awhile. Not since you-know-who showed up. Haven't you noticed he's been odd since then? It's as though all his old ways just went up in smoke!"

"That's not necessarily true."

"What do you mean, Plato?" The last of the six had remained quiet for the entire conversation, not even contributing his words when the argument had broken out. He was a built cat, height wise as well as muscle, and his grace was unlike any of the other toms. Well, not including Mistoffelees. But he was magical, so they said he didn't count. However, Plato was nearly the best at his dance…it wooed the females and made their hearts spin with romance. Some would say Plato was the true gentlecat of the Jellicles: his manners never failed him.

"I mean that his ways haven't completely changed. He's still the same show-off, attention-needy sex-addict we've all known, but it's just focused more towards one cat now," Plato paused for a moment, looking down at his paws awkwardly. "Uh…" His head rose slowly, making brief eye contact with Tumblebrutus as he finished, "Does that make any sense?"

The group all nodded, too his surprise. Even Tantomile expressed her agreement with a small mhmm from her high position.

Meanwhile, Pouncival sat with a confused expression, his eyebrow twisted up as he seemed to try and think. "I understand.." he began, a dumbfounded look still plastered to his lips. "But…well…gee, I didn't know Tugger was gay!"

"Sometimes, people change when others open a door for them. When they realize that there's someone else inside them…when they realize they aren't who they really want to be yet. Or, well, when they realize they're in love." Plato chuckled briefly with a grin. "Love can do some crazy thing to ya. Or, it's possible that he's always been that way and just never came out of the closet."

"Huh.." Pouncival seemed to get it now. His jaw dropped, and he said with a gleeful laugh, "Who wouldda thought! The Rum Tum Tugger- in love!" Coricopat shook his head at the comment, saying,

"I think that's why we all found it odd when we saw him with Bombalurina…it's been forever since they spoke to one another. She was pretty upset at his lack of attention to her, and I also don't think she realized what was truly happening. If you ask me, I still don't think she understands, but that's beside the point. I just think that were so use to concluding that Tugger has changed that seeing him with Bombi took us off guard."

"Think it took someone else off guard too?" Alonzo said, his ears raised curiously. The other Jellicles sat confused, looking to Alonzo for answers. "Look there; behind Old Deuteronomy's tire!"

Mumbles of shock and worry fluttered from the group. For there, sitting in the darkness of a shadow, curled in a ball and whimpering to himself, was Quaxo…crying his heart out?

Alonzo snorted and shook his head. "Told ya Tugger didn't really change. He's still breaking hearts and hurting the ones closest to him, like he always has!"

Seconds turned to minutes, and those minutes grew. Quaxo still didn't move, and the group still watched him. They assumed his face had to be sodden by now from the amount of time that had passed and was still passing, leaving the cats with further questions.

"Should I go talk to him?" Alonzo asked with a sigh. It seemed as though he really didn't want to, but was trying to force himself to be polite.

"No, I really don't think we should-"

"Plato," It was Pouncival who cut Plato's response to Alonzo's question short. "I'll go do it. The poor tom's gonna cry himself dry at this rate!"

"But, Pouncival, like I was saying, I really don't think we-"

The tom shook his head and held up a paw. "It's the least I can do for the guy. I'll be back before you know it!"

"Pouncival, I don't know if we…" But the male was gone, walking swiftly on his paws to where Quaxo sat in tears. Pouncival had always been a person to look on the bright side, but maybe now wasn't the time. There was no wrong in having a desire to lift Quaxo's spirits, but Plato fell as though his friend would fall short in trying. In fact, he thought that they all would should they try. Tugger would be the only one to come to Quaxo's side in his time of need and fix what he had broken, but who knew when or if that would happen? The Rum Tum Tugger was simply an attention-needy sex-addict. Why should he care if he hurt Mistoffelees? After all, generous Mistoffelees was probably just his toy to play with when he got bored, and nothing more.

Giving a spat of disapproval into the dirt, Plato placed a paw to his forehead and massaged in gently. The thought of someone using Misto in such ways sickened him, nearly as much as it hurt to see the tuxedo tom cry. Tugger's image appeared faintly in his mind, the tom's face holding a sneer of amusement. Plato figured this is what Tugger must be doing now. Or maybe he doesn't know or care. Either way, Plato's eyebrows furrowed in anger and he muttered to himself,

"I've never met a cat as low as The Rum Tum Tugger."

Pouncival's careful and quiet paw steps lead him closer to Quaxo inch by inch. He took his time, careful not to startle Mistoffelees or anger him in any manner. The sun was setting quickly on the far side of the boggy city sky, but all was silent. All except that of the whimper's of Misto, and the low murmur of discussion coming from the group Pouncival had left behind. He shot a glance back in their direction, hoping it would make them hush down, though their volume barely dropped. Pouncival wasted no further time on his friends and once again started towards Quaxo, who was only a tail length away now. The magic cat had still yet to notice him. His whimpers were muffled by his white-palmed paws, which covered his sodden face and tear-filled eyes. Pouncival, using all the tenderness he could draw from his body, extended his forepaw, resting it with care on Misto's shoulder.

The black tom did not look up. He gave no greeting, no acknowledgement that Pounival was there, comforting his pain. They sat in the silence of Quaxo's cries, neither cat saying nothing. Pouncival let his hand continue to rest where he had placed it, gripping his friends' shoulder and letting his words flow through his touch:

I'm here for you, Buddy. Whatever you need, I'm here.

And, as though Qauxo had actually heard those words, he leaned into the touch. He laid his head on Pouncivals shoulder and wrapped his small paws around his body, burying his face into his fellow tom's white shoulder-fur and letting the tears run slowly down his cheeks. Quaxo's cries were silent now, but the ceased to stop. They sat in silence once again for some time; letting15 minutes or so pass without a meow from either cat.

It was Pouncival who broke the silence.

"I don't think he meant to hurt you, Mistoffelees."

There was no response. Pouncival tried to soothe him again as he spoke his mind.

"I mean that. I wouldn't say it, Qauxo, if I didn't think it was true. Tugger's changed since he met you…and, though I don't know what he did to hurt you so badly, I don't think he meant it intentionally. As far as I can tell, Tugger loves you." He paused, then changed his words and spoke again, "No, he's in love with you, Qauxo. I just…it doesn't add up to me, and so I don't believe he meant it. I honestly do not."

Pouncival had hoped his words would soothe. But suddenly, he felt Misto tense against his chest, and the arms wrapped around him grew tighter as well. A sharp pain pricked his torso, and he quickly came to realize it was the pain of unsheathed claws. They were digging ever so slightly into his body. Pouncival then noticed something else: the whimpers had ceased. Shocked, Pouncival ducked his head down to gaze at Misto. He couldn't meet the young tom's eyes, they were still tucked in his shoulder, but something surely felt odd.

"Mistoffe-"

"Are you on his side, Pouncival?" Misto's head suddenly shot up, his pale white face pink with anger. Pouncival jumped back in surprise, his hand fleeing from Mistoffelee's shoulder.

"No! I was simply trying to look on the positive side…!"

"Don't try that on me! I'm sick of lies!" The brim of his eyes began to form tears once more, but as they slid down his face: he refused to whimper. Qauxo's face deepend in its angry red color, his eyes squinted with anger as well.

But the anger quickly faded to a deep sadness again. His words came quietly, whimpers trailing after every other sentence. "You're betraying me, Pouncival! He has you here, spying on me…because he's not only with Bombi. He's with you, too, isn't he?"

Pouncival's face fell in shock. "No, Misto! You know it's not like that all I just wanted to be here for you…I really think that Tugg-"

"I don't care for your lies!" His cry rang in the air. Then, finally he murmured with the hurt heavy in his voice, "He doesn't love me…and you don't care for me either. You're just a two-timing, selfish, lying best friend! What kind of friendship is that?"

"But, Misto! I-"

However, the magic cat was gone. His talents had transported him away from his troubles in the blink of an eye. Frantic, Pouncival looked around. He searched the yard, even, but couldn't find Mistoffelees no matter how hard he tried. There wasn't a slightest clue to where he had gone, and Pouncival just simply had no clue.

Little did he know that Qauxo was in the same state of mind. His magic had brought him to an unknown alley. And with the darkness seeping further over the sky, changing from blue to orange to red to black, Misto was finding it difficult to find how. The junkyard's scent hung in the air, but the alley he had ended in was dead center of the city. He would have to work hard to get back home, or wait the night in this cold, lonely place till morning, when he would be strong enough again to try his magic spells.

Dogs barked, both big and small, from the tiny apartments they were kept in. Most windows were open wide, allowing the night air to roll in and the dog's barks to fly out. All the humans he passed seemed to take no mind to it, but each roaring sound set Misto's fur on-end. Everything in the city was twice his side or larger, each creature and thing towering over him. Due to this frightening fact, Qauxo attempted to stick to the alleys and back roads, where less "things" were. He was scared straight through his skin, but he tried not to show it. He simply thought of the positive side: the Jellicle's junkyard scent was growing nearer, and soon he would be home…

And then you'll simply have to avoid Tugger for…well, for forever.

He shook off the thought, trying to keep it in the back of his mind as he went on. Another pollicle roofed from it's cracked window, and a yappier peke responded. He tried to ignore their conversation as he moved on, leaping over a beaten white fence and into yet another dirty alley. This ones broken concrete floor was coated with ripped plastic bags, spills of…some liquid that both smelled horrible, and felt disgusting when smothered on ones' paws, and, of course, rat droppings. Grumbling to himself, Misto attempted to shake the nasty thick liquid from his pad. He was so focused on it, though, he didn't hear the rattle of an empty aluminum can as it fell to it's side. Nor did he hear the maniacal subdued laughter, or the heavy breathing of some clearly large animal, or the threatening words till they were directly in his ear, or see the red fur as it came up beside him…

Qauxo turned, but he hadn't noticed quickly enough. His distractions had taken away his one chance to run, and now it was too late. With one swing of a massive paw which hit him square upside the head, a dark blackness, darker then the midnight sky, swelled over his eyes. It was quickly followed by a foggy cloud that took over his thoughts, and sent him into a deep state of unconsciousness…