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Not even a second after Tugger had entered the Heaviside Layer, Mistoffelees already ached for him—grief settling into his bone marrow, burrowing into his fur, suffocating and heavy in the air around him. That night, Mistoffelees, refusing to be hugged or pitied by others in the junkyard—no matter how well-meaning—had stolen away into the night to return to his den and curl up into a ball on his bed. With no one around to interrupt him, pity him, or try to touch him, he allowed himself to cry as much as he needed, wracking sobs shaking his whole body, tail hanging limp over the side of his bed. He hated how cold it felt without Tugger nearby, without his body wrapped around him, soft mane tickling the back of Mistoffelees’ head. The night wasn’t cold, but without Tugger, it seemed an Antarctic winter had settled in the room.
He didn’t care. He didn’t want to be warm right now, afraid it would only hurt. That it would only remind him of the absence of Tugger, always so warm, no matter the weather outside.
Mistoffelees curled up tighter, paws over his eyes, tail curled around him as the dawn broke, too bright, too cheery, and the humans downstairs too noisy and loud (though they were no louder than usual). All he wanted were the constellations of night, the sombre shine of the waning moon, and the humans out of the house to leave him in the silence and solitude he sought.
Only when the noon sun needled weak light through the windows, did Mistoffelees uncurl, whole body numb, throat and eyes stinging, shaky from not having eaten for so many hours. Opening his eyes as he pulled his heavy body to a sitting position, the first thing he spotted were bowls of food and water next to his bed. Evidently, even the humans had seen he hadn’t been eating, perhaps sensing his grief for Tugger, and brought his meal to him so he didn’t have to walk all the way back down into the kitchen.
Miserable as he felt, head aching from all the tears, Mistoffelees used his magic to pull the food and water within reach of his mouth. Sniffing at the water, he turned up his nose at its smell, pushing it away again, nibbling instead at the food. He ate only a few mouthfuls, but nevertheless, he felt somewhat less woozy and shaky now he had some food in his belly.
Deciding he may as well just walk for a little bit, even if just down the stairs and then back up into his room, Mistoffelees forced himself to his feet and padded out. Walking through the corridor to the stairs, the house seemed now too quiet for him, and he yearned for the sound of Tugger singing, racing through the house, or getting up into mischief in the pantry. He ached to hear his purrs one more time, to lock eyes with him one more time and see that unconditional love in his gaze, to hear his cheering as Mistoffelees danced for him (he was sure he’d never dance again now he was gone), or just have one more nuzzle into his thick mane.
Just one more time.
Really.
As soon as he walked into the kitchen, on instinct, he turned his head toward Tugger’s food and water dishes in a corner.
Now he wished he hadn’t.
They were empty, cleaned and left where they’d always been, which wasn’t the worst part.
The worst part was when he then spotted Tugger’s old spiky collar on the floor next to the dishes.
His collar.
His spiky collar, his pride and joy.
The collar Tugger was always so extra-careful to ensure he didn’t poke Mistoffelees with when they cuddled together.
It was wrong to see that collar apart from Tugger.
It didn’t feel…right.
Mistoffelees approached the collar at a pace not exceeding a quiet tip-toe in absolute darkness with no stars or moon. Crouching down, ears drooping, tail tucking between his back legs, he sniffed at the spikes.
Tugger’s scent overwhelmed him at once, so strong it seemed he might have returned.
Alas, the collar was the only reminder of him left.
A sudden fear caught Mistoffelees—what if the humans took it and washed it? And then it would not smell like Tugger, but like…nothing. Like just another collar waiting for a new owner. Tugger’s scent would be stolen from him forever.
He couldn’t let that happen.
He wouldn’t let that happen.
Taking the collar, Mistoffelees cradled it to his chest, stealing away back up the stairs, straight back into his bed, now curling up again, not caring when the spikes poked him several times as he hugged it tight. He closed his eyes, wrapping his paws protectively around Tugger’s collar, letting himself sink into the last sensory reminder of him.
I miss you. I want you. I need you.
He must’ve fallen asleep again, as a tugging at the collar awoke him with a start. One of the humans had found him, and was currently trying to pry the collar from his paws. Mistoffelees held on tighter, claws unsheathing as he hissed at the human, who drew their hand back in surprise.
Don’t take it.
But the human recovered from their surprise and extended that hand again, going straight for the collar. Mistoffelees hissed, ears flattening as he swiped at the back of the human’s hand. They yelped, holding their hand, staring at where Mistoffelees had scratched them.
Another human rushed up to them and put a hand on the first one’s shoulder, whispering something in their ear with a glance and nod at Mistoffelees. The first human frowned a little, still cradling their hand, but allowed their companion to lead them back out of the room, leaving Mistoffelees alone again. He stared at the door, waiting for them to come back in and try and steal the collar again, but in the end, it seemed they had taken the hint and were leaving him be.
Curling around again, closing his eyes, Mistoffelees again tugged the collar up against himself, desperate to keep this one last reminder of Tugger close against his heart for as long as he could.
For the rest of his life.