Masquerading Like It’s 1802
“I look ridiculous,” Yuuri whined softly, his shoulders slumped and his eyes downcast.
Phichit slapped him on the back roughly, “Come on, you look amazing, Yuuri.”
Yuuri looked up at Phichit with a pout, “Phichit…”
“No,” Phichit gave a firm shake of his head, “Nah-ah, no, no way. You’re no getting out of this. You skipped out last year but this year you promised.”
Yuuri’s pout faded into a soft frown. With a soft sigh, he straightened up, looking himself up and down in the mirror. “Isn’t there something else I can wear? This is just so…tight.”
“That’s what they wore, Yuuri, men’s ball-wear in the eighteenth century was all about showing off the tightest of buttocks.” Phichit spun on his heel, gesture to his own ass as an example.
Meanwhile, Yuuri was still scrutinizing himself in this…outfit. His hair had been left alone, but his glasses were replaced with blue-colored contacts that meshed well with the coat that was sapphire blue with gold trim which went all the down to his knees. Underneath his coat was a similarly colored button-up with more gold trim going down the middle. The shirt went down to about mid-thigh and met the tight, blue pants that only had gold trim on the bottom.
That was all fine, he supposed it was the other parts he felt made it a bit extra. His sleeves were finished off with off-white ruffles that had gold sparkles sewn in and it matched perfectly with the handkerchief thing Phichit had stuffed into his collar(God, that was scratchy.) and, to top it all off, instead of where black shoes like a normal person, whoever Yuuri had been styled after had decided to wear pure white socks with pure white shoes with strange buckles on them.
Yuuri looked like a train wreck, in his humble opinion. A complicated trainwreck. He didn’t even pull it off well! Not like Phichit, anyway, who looked like he belonged in the 18th century in his similarly-styled maroon ensemble which he topped off with a large feather hat.
“Macaroni!” Phichit exclaimed, doing an extravagant bow.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yuuri asked.
Phichit gasped dramatically, “You mean you don’t know? Come Yuuri, we must go, but I will serenade you with the most important song you have ever heard! Grab your mask and let us be going.”
Phichit grabbed his maroon mask and skipped out. With the millionth sigh of the night, Yuuri grabbed his own, strapping it onto his head and jogging after the brunette, “Wait, Phichit! I don’t know where we’re going!”
“…Stuck a feather in his hat and called it macaroni!” Phichit had been skipping along the streets and singing that song for the last ten minutes and Yuuri had honestly never wanted to get to a place he didn’t want to go more than he did at that moment. The song didn’t even help, either, he still didn’t know why this Yankee Doodle was calling things macaroni! Macaroni was a delicacy of soft pasta and creamy cheese, not a fashion disaster.
“Phichit, are we almost there?” Yuuri asked in an almost-moan. “These pants are riding up my butt.”
Phichit paused in his singing to grin at Yuuri, “It’s right around the corner, my friend, worry not.”
Phichi seemed to be telling the truth because, just as he said, when they turned the corner, the street lit up. There were cars driving past them and dropping their keys with he six vales standing at their podiums outside, men and women stepping out of them in extravagant dresses, suits, and masks.
“Mask on, buddy,” Phichit said, slipping his own onto his face to tie around the back.
Yuuri on his own, tying it at the back with stumbling fingers. He could barely keep himself from taking a step to walk behind Phichit as they blended with the crowd.
Even though he couldn’t tell even if he wanted because of the masks, Yuuri felt like he was being stared at and looked down upon by everyone they passed. They just looked so much better than he did.
Phichit grabbed his wrist and dragged him forward to get him to move faster.
Yuuri had never felt smaller than he did the second he stepped into the gorgeous ballroom that looked like it had come straight out of a movie.
High ceilings, gold and white coloring with blue accents, and a giant chandelier hanging overhead made this place the most expensive building Yuuri had ever looked bad in.
Phichit lightly elbowed him in the side, “You match the ballroom, buddy.”
Yuuri rolled his eyes, “Don’t say that, that’s weird.”
Phichit laughed. “I’m going to go check out the buffet, go mingle my shy little turtle.”
Yuuri’s hand flung out, trying to keep Phichit from leaving him, but his friend had already waded through the crowd, moving further and further away from him. There went his plan to stick by the only person he actually knew in this place.
Nervously, he started walking with the crowd, dodging groups of people chatting and standing around. He gave the dance floor a wide birth, heading straight towards the wall on the far end in hopes of avoiding any unnecessary interaction.
But apparently, some higher power didn’t want him to stay in his comfort zone.
It was like it had come straight out of a movie. He was walking, barely paying attention, when someone ran into him, splashing wine all over his attire. “Oh, dear, I wasn’t watching where I was going, I’m so sorry!” the person gasped.
Yuuri looked up, ‘It’s okay’ on his tongue, but all he managed to do was gape at the man towering over him worriedly.
Damn, did everybody have to look so much better than he did? This man was the epitome of beauty and grace, god he pulled off his outfit so well, and Yuuri was just…Yuuri. It was a little disappointing. To him, at least.
“I ruined your costume, I’m so sorry,” The stranger said. Though he sounded genuinely sorry, Yuuri felt like he was mocking him. The other man’s costume was clearly better and he probably knew it.
“It’s fine,” Yuuri said softly.
“No, it isn’t!” The stranger declared. He took a startled Yuuri by the hands and started dragging him off into a random direction. “I’m sure there was a bathroom in this direction…”
Yuuri stumbled after the determined stranger and soon they were both inside of a one-person bathroom.
“Here,” The man unraveled some tissue and try to pat Yuuri’s chest dry.
“I-it’s really fine..” Yuuri said slowly, trying to gently push the man’s hands away.
The man stopped, meeting Yuuri’s gaze and suddenly Yuuri was trapped in an intense ocean of blue. He wondered, briefly, if this man was also wearing contacts. There was just no way that eyes actually came in that color, was there? “Let me make it up to you.”
“Okay?” Yuuri aid questioningly.
The man straightened and reached his hands behind his head. He’s taking his mask off, Yuuri realized faintly.
The mask was off in a second and Yuuri was overwhelmed with the beauty of this man. Soft, pale skin with a charming smile and vivid blue eyes and long, silvery hair tied with a ribbon lying about his shoulders and framing his face. He stuck a hand out, “I’m Viktor Nikiforov and, if you’d allow me, I’d like to pay for your dry cleaning.”
Yuuri took his hand, saying, “I’m Yuuri…Katsuki.”
The man pouted and Yuuri didn’t think he could have ever found something like that cute in anybody else, but wow. “What? No dramatic face reveal? did all of that for nothing?”
Yuuri giggled, untying his mask, too, “I-I guess it’s only…fair.”
There was no response and Yuuri looked at the man who had frozen, “Uh…Nikiforov…sir?”
The man seemed to shake himself out of the stupor he was in and the charming smile was back, “I’m sorry, your beauty just overwhelmed me. Perhaps he can turn that dry cleaning offer into a coffee date offer?”
Yuuri could do nothing but nod numbly as the man got a pen out of his pocket and wrote his name and number on Yuuri’s hand. “Well, I look forward to your call.”
And, as if it had happened before, Yuuri had lost Viktor’s number come morning
