Chapter Text
“And the winner is Yuuri Katsuki! You’ve just won an invitation to the most exclusive and sought-out Halloween event of the year! That’s right, we’re talking about Viktor Nikiforov’s annual two week long Halloween extravaganza!”
There has to be some mistake. Yuuri had only entered the contest because Phichit had practically demanded that he do so. He never thought he would win.
“Yuuri, you have to go!” Phichit insists. “You’ve been in love with Viktor Nikiforov since before he was even discovered in America! Can you honestly say you don’t want to meet him?”
No, Yuuri cannot honestly say that at all.
Viktor Nikiforov is one of the world’s most famous actors. Originally from Russia, he played a minor role in an American movie when he was 17, and the American film industry went wild, seemingly overnight. He’s a household name these days, but Yuuri had admired him long before he had become an actor. Viktor had once skated competitively in the Junior division, and Yuuri, already interested in the sport, had fallen for his skills with a single glance. It’s hardly a stretch to say that Viktor is the reason Yuuri started skating competitively.
Unfortunately, his skating career hasn’t been going that great lately. After a disastrous sixth place finish at last season’s Grand Prix Final, followed by an even worse performance at Nationals that resulted in him not even qualifying for Worlds, Yuuri knows that many people are speculating about his retirement.
But Yuuri isn’t ready to give up the only dream he’s ever had. That’s why, even though he couldn’t bring himself to skate this season, he hasn’t announced his retirement, either. Celestino had said it was okay, that he could take off a season and come back, that it didn’t have to be the end of the road for him, but… Nevertheless, the anxiety eats at him. Can he really come back? Will he have the strength to do it? Maybe it would have been better to retire after all?
Yuuri had thought about going back to his family in Hasetsu, but one fear had stopped him. If he surrounded himself with his family and childhood friends, would he ever be able to leave them again? Or would he fade into the background noise of his hometown and let the rest of the world forget him? He doesn’t know the answer, which is enough to make him wary. And that’s why he had decided, instead, to stay in Detroit with Phichit.
So, with Yuuri being in America but not competing this season, he really has no excuse to justify him refusing to go to the Nikiforov Halloween Extravaganza.
“But what if I go and embarrass myself?” Yuuri asks Phichit. “I don’t hang around these kinds of circles! There’s going to be all these celebrities, and I’m just…”
“The top figure skater in Japan?” Phichit suggests. But before Yuuri can protest that it doesn’t count, Phichit continues. “Besides, it’s supposed to be anonymous, anyway. Everyone has to wear a costume that hides their identity, right?”
“Viktor wants his guests to have a good time instead of worrying about networking,” Yuuri says automatically, immediately recalling the interview from earlier in the month in which Viktor announced his intention to do something special this year. Yuuri’s heart had clenched when he saw it, because how can any one man be so wonderful? Viktor has always been exceedingly kind to his fans and fellow stars alike (it’s one of the many things Yuuri admires about him). He always goes all-out to excite his audience, whether that be filmgoers at the theater or guests at his party. Yuuri is confident that this year’s party will be amazing,
“Soooo,” Phichit drawls, “nobody will even know it’s you. It’ll be like your own Cinderella story!”
Yuuri cracks a small smile at the joke (even though Phichit’s got it all wrong), and for the moment, he thinks that maybe things really will work out okay. What’s the worst that can happen? It’s not like he’s going to end up spending any time with Viktor, anyway; he’ll surely be busy with his duties as host. But maybe, just maybe, Yuuri will be able to catch a glimpse of him in person. That alone would make Yuuri’s decision to sit this season out more than worth it.
In the end, they come up with a pretty basic costume modelled after the costume Viktor had won the Junior Grand Prix Final with. It’s a little embarrassing, but then, Yuuri has always wanted to wear something like it, and as Phichit points out, this might be his only chance to get away with wearing it anonymously, and besides, Viktor probably doesn’t remember it anyway. It’s not like Yuuri can remember what he himself wore back in Juniors (though perhaps that’s because he tries his best to forget everything about his dark skating past).
“It looks great on you, Yuuri!” Phichit insists appreciatively. “You pull it off better than Viktor did, even.”
“Nobody pulls anything off better than Viktor,” Yuuri retorts. But even he can’t deny that the costume flatters him. With the addition of the black mask covering his face, he doesn’t look anything like Yuuri Katsuki, local figure skating flop. He doesn’t look like the nervous wreck he usually is, either. In this costume, in this mask, nobody will be able to tell that Yuuri isn’t anyone special, that he doesn’t belong among celebrities.
Nevertheless, when he arrives at Viktor Nikiforov’s mansion, Yuuri can’t help but feel out of place. It’s not like his costume was cheap, but compared to all the other guests, he feels…
Well, he feels as he often does: weak, insignificant, wrong.
It’s not like he can talk to anyone like this. Even if he weren’t feeling so out of place, he wouldn’t know what to talk to any of these people about. The only thing he knows is skating, while the other guests live the glamorous lives of the rich and famous. They have nothing in common, surely.
Yuuri awkwardly hugs the wall for several minutes before the lights suddenly go out.
He can hear other people shuffle about nervously, but Yuuri, luckily, has his secure wall to brace himself against. Nobody bumps into him, and the lights turn back on. The incident passes, but then, oh…
Viktor Nikiforov is standing in front of the room, at the very top of the staircase. And he’s beautiful.
Yuuri recognizes his costume as the Phantom of the Opera. Viktor’s dark cape hangs regally from his shoulders, and half of his face is covered by a white mask.
For a second, Yuuri imagines that he sees Viktor’s eyes flicker to him (but that’s ridiculous, of course; Viktor is too far away to observe clearly, anyway), and his lips quirk upwards before he opens his mouth to address the crowd.
“Bonsoir,” he says in a French accent, though he quickly switches to his usual well-practiced American accent as he continues. “And welcome to this year’s spooktacular event.”
Yuuri has to bite his lip to hide a smile. Other people in the crowd groan at the pun, but Viktor just waves his hand dismissively.
“I know many of you have attended this event before, but for the sake of our wonderful newcomers—” Here, Yuuri could swear that Viktor’s eyes flicker back towards him, but again, that is surely ridiculous, and Yuuri wishes he would stop assuming such self-centered things. “—I’ll explain the rules,” Viktor finishes, grinning.
Yuuri feels stirrings of nervousness bubble up inside him. Why would they need rules? Just what did Yuuri sign himself up for?
“As always, we’ll be playing a little game to keep the next two weeks exciting,” Viktor says. “Some of you might remember last year’s murder mystery?”
A few members of the audience cheer. Viktor flashes them a charming smile.
“This year we’re spicing it up a bit,” Viktor continues. “You’ll all be split into groups of four and given tasks to complete. You’ll be given points based on how you do, and the team with the most points at the end wins!”
The crowd remains silent.
The smile on Viktor’s face dims, but he still lets out a laugh.
“No enthusiasm?” he teases.
“What do we win?” someone yells from the crowd.
“The honor of being this year’s champions, of course!” Viktor answers cheerfully.
The crowd groans, and Yuuri overhears several angry mutters.
Yuuri feels a sudden flash of irritation. Aren’t the guests being a little ungrateful? This is Viktor’s party, and he doesn’t owe them anything. They should be happy to have been invited at all!
“I’m kidding!” Viktor insists, holding his hands up. “We do have amazing prizes, but they’re a surprise!”
The crowd’s mutterings turn hopeful.
“We’ve redecorated the mansion to make it fit the Halloween theme and cater to the tasks. There are also secret passages, but please leave those to the servants! If you go down them, it could be a week before we find you! And speaking of things you shouldn’t do, it’s absolutely mandatory that you don’t reveal your identity until after Halloween. It’s so thrilling to interact with people who don’t know who you are!”
“Thrilling” is not the word Yuuri would use. “Relieving” is much more accurate. But at any rate, he’s grateful that he won’t be expected to take off his mask any time soon.
“I think that’s it—” Viktor starts.
“Hey, how are we being put into groups? Do we decide?” someone demands.
Viktor chuckles.
“Oops, I forgot to mention that! The groups have already been randomly selected. When you return to your rooms tonight, you’ll find a dossier with all the details you need,” he explains. “Any other questions?”
The guests whisper among themselves, but nobody else speaks up.
“Great! That wraps up the formalities, so mingle~” Viktor says cheerfully. The lights cut out on his very last word, and when they turn on again, Viktor is gone.
“Ugh, what a drama queen,” somebody mutters.
Yuuri clenches his fists. What’s wrong with Viktor being dramatic? And if you don’t like it, why would you come to Viktor’s party in the first place?
But ultimately, he has no choice but to let the comment go. The most he can do is desperately hope that he doesn’t get put on the same team as the jerk.
Yuuri stumbles a little farther down the wall, eventually settling into a nice, uncrowded corner where he can watch everyone else chatter. He figures that nobody will bother him here.
He figures wrong.
“Well, hello there,” purrs a deep, silky voice in a thick Russian accent. Yuuri’s eyes snap up only to meet deep red irises. It’s clear that the man in front of him is dressed as a vampire. His long hair is tied back in a ponytail, and oh, that silver color is so bright that it reminds Yuuri of…
“The Count from Midnight Whirlpool, Yuuri blurts out. Midnight Whirlpool is one of Viktor’s earlier movies, back from when he was only 18, where he starred as a vampire who falls in love with a merman. Yuuri loves that movie (yes, okay, he loves all of Viktor’s movies, but this one is particularly excellent). “Wow, that’s… You look just like him...”
The Count narrows his eyes for a second before letting out an awkward chuckle.
“Yes, I’ve spent a lot of time perfecting the image,” he says. His lips quirk upwards. “But it seems I’m not the only one who took inspiration from Viktor’s past. Viktor the figure skating champion, not a character you see every day.”
Yuuri sorely wishes that he had chosen a mask that concealed his entire face; maybe then the Count wouldn’t be able to see his cheeks flushing redder than a beet.
“You, uh, you recognize it,” he mutters.
“Indeed. I’m his biggest fan,” the Count says. Leaning forward, he smirks. “Unless you’d like to fight me for that title?”
“O-Oh,” Yuuri mumbles. He probably could. He’s been keeping up with Viktor news for longer than most. But it’s not like he knows everything. This guy has obviously studied Viktor enough to emulate him almost perfectly (the only difference is his voice, but then, not everyone can change their accent at the drop of a hat like Viktor can; Yuuri’s not going to fault him for something like that. Visually, he looks just like Yuuri imagines Viktor would if he’d decided to keep his hair long instead of cutting it short seven years ago). “No, no, I believe you.”
The Count seems a little disappointed, but he pulls back.
“That’s fine. I didn’t come over here to talk about me, anyway,” he continues, straightening back up. “I’m much more interested in you. What’s a magnificent beauty like yourself doing all alone?”
“Eh?” Yuuri blurts dumbly.
“Do you not want to socialize? Are you feeling unwell?” the Count asks in concern. “You ought to be the life of the party, not stuck in a lonely corner by yourself.”
“Oh, uh, no,” Yuuri mutters. “I’m not really the partying type. Or, uh, the talking type, either. I’m in this corner by choice.”
“Is that so?” the Count murmurs. He regards Yuuri with such an intense look that Yuuri has to suppress a shudder. “Should I leave you be?”
“No!” Yuuri says a bit too quickly. “I mean, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to. It’s a public space and everything, and I, uh, don’t really mind you being here.”
He doesn’t know why, but there’s something about this man that draws Yuuri to him. It’s completely stupid, because Yuuri has absolutely no idea what he’s supposed to even talk about with him, but he doesn’t really want the Count to walk away just yet.
The Count glances at his pocketwatch with a grimace.
“Unfortunately, I don’t have a choice,” he says, sighing. “But if I did, I would gladly pass the rest of the evening by your side.”
Yuuri tries to quash the disappointment welling up inside him.
“Oh, that’s fine. You’re busy,” he says. “I won’t keep you, then.”
“I’m very sorry,” the Count says, and he really does sound sad. “But I hope we’ll be able to spend more time together over the next two weeks.”
“Right,” Yuuri murmurs. He’s staring too much at the Count, he’s sure, but he just can’t bring himself to look away. “I’d… I’d like that.”
The Count smiles softly at him, a look much too gentle for his monstrous costume, before he disappears into the crowd.
Yuuri’s heart pounds in his chest, and he places a hand over it to steady himself.
A few moments later sees another man approaching him. This one is dressed as a mummy, only… he seems to have gone for a sexy mummy. Bandages wrap around his face enough to conceal his identity, but blond hair still peeks through. The bandages continue down his body, but they only cover just enough to remain decent. Most of his chest and stomach is uncovered, revealing finely toned muscles. Yuuri figures he’s probably some kind of model or something.
“Hello there,” the mummy says with an accent Yuuri can’t quite place. “I couldn’t help but notice you catching the attention of a certain vampire,” he says, a teasing glint in his eyes.
“Ah, uh, yes,” Yuuri says. “Were you looking for him? He had to go off in a rush, and, uh, I don’t exactly know where he went, but if you’re trying to find him—”
“Oh, no,” the mummy says with a chuckle. “I’ll see him later. I’m interested in seeing you right now.”
Yuuri lets out a surprised squeak as the mummy brushes a little too close to his backside.
“Adorable,” the mummy says appreciatively.
“I-I’m sorry?” Yuuri asks in utter confusion.
“No wonder my vampire friend wants to suck you dry.” The mummy winks suggestively.
“I didn’t realize that this was that kind of party,” Yuuri says, his eyes widening. Oh, sure, he’s been to sexy Halloween parties before (in a truly regrettable decision based on a drunken dare, he and Phichit had once gone as “sexy figure skaters” in outfits that definitely weren’t ISU-approved, but Yuuri tries to block that particular embarrassing memory from his mind), but he wasn’t prepared for a masquerade party to be like this!
“It’s always that kind of party when I’m around,” the mummy says with a smirk. “Though it’s unusual for my friend to feel… thirsty.”
Yuuri averts his eyes, a blush rising to his cheeks.
“He was only over here for a few minutes before he left, anyway,” Yuuri says. Certainly not enough time for anything to happen. “I think he was trying to be nice, since I was alone and all.”
The mummy is quiet for a few seconds before he shakes his head.
“I don’t pretend to understand what’s going through my friend’s head,” he says, “but I can say for certain he would not have approached you if you didn’t interest him.”
Yuuri doesn’t know how he could have possibly interested the Count, but he supposes he has to take the mummy’s word for it.
“Now, I’m afraid I really should run after my dearest vampire. He gets so gloomy when he’s all alone,” the mummy continues. “But it was delightful to meet you. Tell me, what do I call you?”
Just when Yuuri’s face has finally cooled down, he’s back to blushing again. None of the guests had been allowed to pick their own aliases; instead, they had been assigned a name to use over the course of the event. Yuuri’s assigned name was questionable enough, but given the way this particular conversation had gone, it suddenly feels even more embarrassing.
“Eros,” he mutters.
“The god of love. How fitting,” the mummy says with a laugh. “I look forward to seeing you again, Eros.”
Yuuri breathes a sigh of relief as the mummy leaves. He was nice enough, and Yuuri wouldn’t mind talking to him again,, but he’s not used to having to speak to people without having the topic of skating to fall back on as a crutch.
In the back of his mind, he wonders how much the Count knows about skating. He apparently recognizes Viktor’s Junior Worlds-winning costume, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he knows anything about the sport itself. Of course, even if he knows a lot about skating, Yuuri can’t just talk about the sport, since it might accidentally lead to his identity being revealed, which is the last thing he wants. Yuuri just wonders; that’s all.
As the party starts to wind down, Yuuri begins to make his way back to his room at long last. Before he can get there, though, he runs quite literally into someone as he rounds the corner.
“Can you watch where the fuck you’re going?” a wolf-suited boy asks irritably from the ground. There’s something familiar about his Russian-accented tone that tugs at Yuuri’s memory.
“I’m sorry,” Yuuri says quickly. “I wasn’t paying that much attention. I should have been more careful.”
“Obviously, moron,” the wolf grumbles, picking himself up and totally rejecting Yuuri’s offered hand.
It’s the word “moron” that does it, and Yuuri gasps as he suddenly remembers who the voice belongs to.
Yuri Plisetsky, last year’s Junior Grand Prix gold medalist, unfortunately sitting out this season’s Grand Prix series due to an injury he sustained while practicing quads (oh, now Yuuri feels even worse about knocking him to the ground). In particular, Yuuri remembers him because the teenager had yelled at him in the bathroom after his disastrous Sochi performance.
Now that he thinks about it, he’s pretty sure Viktor Nikiforov sponsors Yuri. That’s probably why he got an invitation. Normally, of course, he wouldn’t be able to take two weeks in October to come fool around in America, but since he’s not making his senior debut this season anymore, the timing isn’t a problem.
Yuuri thinks it’s very nice of Viktor to have invited him. Yuuri’s never suffered any injury serious enough to force him to miss any competitions, but he has suffered minor ones that have kept him off the ice for short periods of time, and even that felt like torture. It’s good for Yuri to have something to distract him.
“Hello? Earth to… whatever the hell you are,” Yuri snaps. “No, seriously, what are you wearing? Is that some kind of half-dress, half-suit thing? Could you not decide what to wear?”
Yuri obviously doesn’t recognize him, and Yuuri would really prefer to keep it that way.
“I’m Eros, the god of love,” Yuuri says, trying to keep his nervousness out of his voice.
Yuri glares at him, clearly unimpressed.
“Okay, gross,” he says with a snort. “I hate all of you here. Your costumes are all stupid. My costume is stupid, too, and not what I fucking ordered. Get out of my way and go have your midnight rendezvous or whatever. I’m trying to get the fuck to bed.”
“I-I’m not having… It’s not even midnight… I’m trying to go to bed, too!” Yuuri splutters, but he moves to the side of the hallway to let Yuri pass.
“I literally do not give a single damn,” Yuri mutters as he goes by.
When Yuuri finally reaches his room, the first thing he does is slump onto the bed with a sigh. So it looks like Yuri hates him and his hidden identity. A hidden identity that it’s now more important than ever to keep.
Great.
Yuuri can’t even contact Phichit for moral support, because all the guests had to hand over their phones to the servants before they left. “So nobody can cheat,” apparently. As if Yuuri knows anyone who could possibly help him cheat.
As he continues to wallow on the bed, his hand brushes against paper, and Yuuri grabs what turns out to be a file.
Oh, right. His teammates. Yuuri had almost forgotten.
The first page he pulls out has a picture of the mummy on it. “Mr. Bandages,” it says his name is. His occupation is listed as “model” (so Yuuri was right) and his skills include “flirtation,” “speed changing,” “lip reading,” and “chemistry.” Interesting.
Wait, wait, occupation and skills? Oh no, what does Yuuri’s page say? He flips to the page with his picture, but breathes a sigh of relief when all it says for both is “unknown.” He does feel a little bad that his teammates get only his picture and the name “Eros,” but, well, the alternative is too horrifying to think of. Yuuri doesn’t want anyone to know he’s a nobody, after all.
As his heartbeat begins to return to its normal pace, Yuuri pulls out the next page. He can’t help but smile when he sees that it’s the Count he met earlier. Apparently, he’s an actor (Yuuri wonders if he’s ever been asked to do impersonations for a movie. There’s probably a thousand directors who would give their entire life savings to get someone who so closely resembles Viktor Nikiforov.). His skills are “ice skating” (interesting, so he does know something about skating), “negotiating,” “speed changing” (is that why he knows Mr. Bandages?), and “dog whispering.”
There’s a pang in his chest as he reads the Count’s last skill. If only Yuuri had been a dog whisperer, had been able to talk to Vicchan and figure out that something was wrong before it was too late…
He shuts his eyes for a moment. Vicchan’s death still hurts him, but he can’t afford to think about that now. Yuuri’s already ruined one performance because of his weak mind; he doesn’t want to let his teammates here down, too.
With a sigh, he pulls out the final paper, only to immediately groan. It’s Yuri, or, rather, “Mr. Wolf.” Occupation: figure skater (yeah, it’s definitely Yuri). His skills are “ballet,” “intimidation,” “cooking,” and “cat whispering.”
Yuuri snickers. A cat whisperer and a dog whisperer, huh? He wonders how well they’re going to get along.
In all honesty, Yuuri’s a little afraid that their team might be doomed from the start, what with him around. Mr. Bandages and the Count probably already make a good team, and Yuuri thinks he could get along with them alright. But Yuri, who already hates Yuuri’s guts, and who Yuuri has to try extra hard to avoid revealing his identity to? He’s not going to be easy to deal with.
Well, Yuuri will just have to try his best. This is supposed to be a party. It’s supposed to be fun. Even he can’t screw it up too badly, can he? There’s nothing at stake (except for mysterious “amazing prizes” that Viktor referred to, which, okay, probably are great if Viktor planned them), and even though the thought of competition is making Yuuri’s insistent desperation to win rear its ugly head, the most important thing is to have fun. Probably.
At any rate, he’s going to need his rest for tomorrow. His racing thoughts make it difficult for him to fall asleep, but in the end, there’s a smile on his face as he drifts off.
He’s excited for the weeks ahead.