"Yuuri! We're gonna be late! Late!"

Yuuri groans, refusing to open his eyes. "I'm not going, Phichit."

His friend obviously doesn't care about what he wants or not.

"Come on, Yuuri, we've practiced so much for this! The audience will be really upset if you don't show!"

Yuuri buries his face in his makeshift pillow and groans again, as if that's going to somehow vanquish Phichit and his too-early-too-loud voice.

"And besides, what if your Lost Prince happens to be among them! He'll be so impressed by your graceful performance that he'll—ouch! Mean, Yuuri, that's mean!" Phichit whines, throwing the weaponized shoe back at Yuuri's head. Yuuri doesn't care.

There are two things that Yuuri has loved above all else since he was a child.

The first one was the Lost Prince. It was his favorite story, and he'd always have his mother read it to him before he went to sleep. Even now that he's an adult and has long stopped living with his parents, he'll recite the story out loud on sleepless nights (Phichit overheard him once and earned himself a lifetime's worth of teasing material). And on every town he passes, he'll visit the street artists and use every penny he owns to buy beautiful paintings of the prince to bring back home. None of them live up to the beauty of the vision that lives in his dreams and imaginations, but they're better than nothing.

"You don't have to be so negative about it, you're the best winter dancer in the land, everyone knows it."

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm really not. Not even close."

The second thing he loves is winter dancing. Even if he's never been all that talented at it (no matter how much Phichit exaggerates about it), he loves the freedom he feels on the ice, his blades so sharp it's almost like flying but with music playing in his head. He only started doing it because the stories said the Lost Prince could entrance the whole realm with his dance, and a part of him still has those childish dreams of finding the Prince and dancing on the frozen lake with him, impressing him with his skills. It was said that everyone who saw the Prince dancing on the frozen lake would receive countless blessings, but Yuuri always thought getting to dance with the Prince would itself be the most wonderful blessing.

But he is well aware that his dream is indulgent and impossible, something that gave him solace in his childhood and to which he still clings for comfort from time to time, but nothing more. He has no real expectation of ever seeing that dream realized, and not just because of how unlikely it is that the Lost Prince would just somehow happen to watch their performance. Hearing Phichit talk about it makes him feel even less motivated to go out there, because there was no way a mediocre winter dancer like himself could ever impress the Prince whose dance enchanted the entire kingdom.

Phichit sighs and kneels by the bed, holding both of Yuuri's hands in his. "Yuuri, I know you're still hurt about Vicchan…"

Yuuri flinches and bites his lip. Vicchan was his childhood pet, a small brown poodle his parents got him for his eighth birthday. He was small and soft and loved to chase Yuuri around, sleep with him and lick his face to wake him up in the mornings and when Yuuri felt insecure or anxious, Vicchan would cuddle with him and make him feel warm and safe. Yuuri had loathed to leave him behind at his parents' inn five years ago, when he and Phichit formed their makeshift winter dancing troupe and started traveling, but he couldn't submit his beloved pup to the chaotic life of a traveling performer.

But Vicchan had passed away a month ago, and Yuuri hadn't been there with him. Old age, it was inevitable, his sister's letter said, he lived a happy and healthy life, he was so loved Yuuri and he loved you so much, his mother wrote, he was so lucky to have you, don't be sad, think of all the good times you had together, but none of it was as comforting as they seemed to think, nothing that really quelled the ache in his heart, the guilt of abandoning his beloved friend, of not being there for him at the end.

"And if you truly, honestly tell me you don't want to do this, then we won't, but dancing has always made you feel better, right? And Vicchan loved to see you dance so much, remember how he'd slip on the ice because he wanted to join you?"

Small tears pool at the corners of Yuuri's eyes, remembering how Vicchan shivered when his little paws touched the ice, how he'd run circles around Yuuri's feet until he slipped and Yuuri leaned down to scoop him into his arms and how he'd yip excitedly as Yuuri glided on the ice and spun them around laughing, or that time his father gave him a small wooden sledge so Vicchan could ride it and Yuuri would pull him along around the frozen lake beside their house. He squeezes his eyes, trying to will the tears away and looks down at Phichit's pleading face, how he softly rubs the back of his hands. He knows his friend is right and means well, but a part of him stubbornly wants to curl up in bed and never have to get up again.

There's a soft tap on the door and Chris's head pops inside the room.

"Are we ready yet? I need to start working on Yuuri's hair or we won't make it on time."

Yuuri's gaze shifts from Phichit, to Chris, who seems to understand the situation and smiles at him sympathetically, to his blades lying against the wall inside a pouch that his mother had embroidered with Vicchan's face.

He takes a deep breath and nods once, hoping he won't regret it later.

Oh, he regrets it.

The crowd's much bigger than Yuuri had expected and a lot of them seem to be looking at him intently. Probably wondering why a mediocre dancer like him is involved with people as talented as Chris and Phichit. The lake they've chosen is smaller than ideal, but the ice is hard and unusually smooth, and the weather is pleasant, only a minimum of snow crunching beneath their feet and making the scenery brighter. Chris pops out a canteen of suspicious smelling liquor and pushes it against Yuuri's lips.

"Liquid courage." He says simply, and Yuuri drinks without thinking –the taste is awful and it burns his throat, but it sets his blood on fire which is probably the point-, then tucks the canteen in his breast pocket, just in case he needs more before he takes the ice.

Phichit dances first and does a great job of getting the crowd excited. He's from a faraway kingdom and his dancing has an exotic quality that people adore. Yuuri himself loves Phichit's dance, it's joyful and lively and always brings a smile to his face. His red and gold costume is a stark contrast with the whiteness of the snow around them that makes it impossible to look away from him and the crowd is cheering and clapping by the time he finishes.

Chris goes next, and his style is drastically different from Phichit's. He exudes a mature sensuality that Yuuri thinks is probably unmatched among all the dancers he's met. Chris has an intimate relationship with his own body and that gives him the ability to seduce the defenseless spectators, who swoon and sigh and squeal. When he's done, they throw roses at him, screaming, their faces red with excitement.

Yuuri's not quite sure why he's the closing act, when either of his two friends would be way better fitted to put an end to it and leave the crowd satisfied and hopefully more eager to part with a coin or two. He's tense and nervous, and without his glasses, he can't even make up the audience's faces. Which is probably for the best, considering how likely it is that they're looking at him with disdain, maybe mocking him, maybe laughing, maybe wondering why is their time being wasted with someone so lame. The thought only makes him freeze up, his legs heavy. And it goes as expected, as he spirals down into panic while trying his best to keep himself standing he ends up falling once, twice, he spins and feels dizzy, he arches his back and loses his balance and crashes on the ice again, harder. His head is throbbing and people start screaming and Phichit is pulling him off the ice "Yuuri, it's the royal guard, we have to go!" he squeaks, eyes wide with terror.

Yuuri's vision focuses on a young man with golden hair and emerald eyes, all clad in pearl-white armor with the crest of the royal family on his chest, a sword on his hip.

"By order of the King Regent, all winter dancers are hereby under arrest. Surrender at once and His Highness could show you mercy. Resisting will only worsen your punishment."

Yuuri's mind turns to flight mode instinctively; he barely kicks off his blades and picks them up before he's running as fast as his legs will let him. The guard with the golden hair yells, but strangely, doesn't seem to be following him. But then again, it's hard to tell when his vision's so blurry, where did he leave his glasses? Phichit has them, he remembers, but he can't find Phichit, or Chris, or anyone really.

He stops running and looks around to find himself completely surrounded by trees and snow, not a single soul to be found.

"Chris! Phichit!" he calls, then runs again in case any guard is nearby. His hips are sore from the fall and his clothes are sticking to his body with sweat and every heavy breath freezes his lungs.

It's snowing now, he has no idea of where he is, no idea of where he came from –and even if he retraced his steps, he'd probably end up in the clutches of the royal guard and in jail- and has lost all track of his friends. What if they were caught, he wonders, panicking, dread creeping up his spine as he runs in random directions, calling their names. "Chris! Phichit!" He doesn't even have his glasses, just his incriminating dancing blades and these clothes that are too thin to really protect him from the weather.

Desperate, he treads through the forest, trying to find a way out, some sign of recognizable ground, but it's hard with the snow covering everything and getting thicker by the minute. The cold is starting to reach his bones and as the sky turns from blue to pink to red he starts to think he might actually die like this, either frozen by the snow and the winter chill or devoured by wild animals. An unexpectedly brutal end to an otherwise unremarkable life. As the sky turns completely dark and thick clouds cover the stars, he starts to lose all hopes of finding his way back. Suddenly, he remembers the liquor he got from Chris earlier and drinks it all down in one gulp. It tastes even worse than he remembers and his stomach immediately protests the burn, but if he's going to die like this, might as well make himself pass out so he doesn't feel any pain.

His head spins and his body feels incredibly hot and heavy as he stumbles through the blur that are his surroundings humming. Happily. He feels happy now, strangely. There's snow and more snow and trees and rocks and more snow and then a wall made of stone, and on top of it, there's a bright, bright light and he wonders why is the Moon hidden inside this stone wall. He chases the moon up, up, his hands hurt and his feet hurt but he's boiling up inside, excited that he'll get the moon, The Moon! He's always loved the Moon, always wanted to touch it.

The clouds clear as he reaches the top and there's another moon on the sky, but it's also inside the stones and it's strange but Yuuri wants to see it and when he reaches the Moon there's ice under his feet and he slips and falls and giggles. And when he looks up, the Moon is looking down at him and their eyes are stars and they talk and their voice is like music but Yuuri doesn't know what they're saying.

"You're so beautiful." Yuuri says, or thinks he says, and he holds the Moon's hand "Dance with me!" and he stumbles on the ice, pulling the Moon along, and there's music and laughter. "I'm Yuuri!" he chirps, remembering his mother's voice admonishing at the back of his head 'your manners, Yuuri.' And how rude it is to start dancing with the Moon without even introducing himself.

"I'm Victor!" The Moon says and they smile and squeeze Yuuri's hand.

Victor, Victor was Vicchan's name (why did he name Vicchan Victor?) Yuuri's always liked that name –Victor- such a beautiful name. Like the Moon. "So beautiful." And the Moon transforms in his arms as they dance and spin and suddenly he's dancing with the Lost Prince –so he's dreaming, because he always dreams of dancing with the Lost Prince, this can be nothing but a dream- but he's warmer and prettier and brighter than ever. Maybe the Lost Prince was always the Moon and that's why he disappeared. "Victor." Yuuri breathes the name, sings it, dances it. It's the best dream he's ever had, the happiest he's ever felt and Victor, the Moon, his prince, he's so beautiful and his laughter is the sweetest melody and just as he's about to ask for the Prince's hand –it's what he's always wanted isn't it? What he's always dreamed of, to dance with the Prince and love him and marry him and dance with him and make him smile- he's shoved hard and his head bursts in pain and the world around him fades to black.

To be continued

So this chapter turned out shorter than I expected because I had a last minute change of heart on how I wanted the whole drunkenness to happen and it's a little structurally weird, maybe, but I wanted to give off that chaotic feeling, both during the escape scene and Yuuri's drunk shenanigans. It was interesting to write and quite fun, once I started I couldn't stop lol. And I had a meeting with a friend and arrived horribly late because of this. And I was also very pumped to write after everything that went down on Yuri on Stage. I'm still death and deceased about it thx.

I'm sorry for not keeping Vicchan alive here. In canon, Vicchan's death is such an important part of Yuuri's emotional state –his anxious self-destruction at the GPF- when Victor irrupts into his life that I felt it would change him too much ): I'm sorry, Vicchan, I cried a little writing about it if that's any compensation.

I hope you enjoy this bizarre chapter, I'm really hyped about hearing your opinions. We haven't seen the last from Phichit and Chris, and a very important character appeared here too, I wonder if you've guessed who they are ;)