Yuuri loves skating. It's his passion. He's had ups and downs in his career so far, more downs than ups really, but it never takes away his deep emotional satisfaction when he skates. He isn't known for his technical perfection, he isn't flawless. But his routines make his audience feel, and that's what matters most to him.
He wants to skate well for his audience. He wants to show everybody that he can perform the jumps, that he's not just a bundle of raw emotion.
What he doesn't understand is that, when he skates, he can't seem to focus on the audience. He has so much support, he knows that. He wants to show everybody what he's capable of, but in the heat of the moment, he can't bring himself to think of them. And then he trips, falls, fails, again and again and again. He always blames himself. Too clumsy, not motivated enough. He'll never win anything.
The Grand Prix is no different. He skates for the audience again. Phichit, Yuri, everyone back home. He skates for them until he messes up and they slip his mind. Sure, his technique is better now. Sure, he scores insanely high scores. But he still misses jumps and he's still so nervous. Why can't he skate for his audience? Why can't he show everyone how grateful he is to them?
It's not until the very last skate that he finally clears his mind. Instead of thinking of the people back home waiting for him, instead of thinking of the fans in the crowd, he focusses on one person. Someone who means much more to him than anyone else ever could. Someone who can't disappear from his mind no matter how hard he tries.
Viktor.
Suddenly, he's confident. He lands every jump. He even pushes himself to land the same jumps Viktor used to do. Viktor...
He can skate like Viktor if it means he'll stay with him forever- no, for another year. And he doesn't care if it's selfish or rude but he needs this, he needs to know it's okay to stop Viktor from fully returning to the competitive scene.
At the end of his routine, he's shattered, completely drained of all energy. But he can tell by the noises from the crowd that he's finally managed to get the message across. Viktor...Viktor has helped him in ways Yuuri could never imagine.
He rushes towards him at the kiss and cry, heart pounding, sweat pouring down his cheeks. Viktor looks ready to cry as Yuuri leaps into his arms.
"Did you get it?" Yuuri asks. He needs to know whether Viktor could feel it, feel the love and the passion Yuuri feels. He can't live without the silver-haired Russian. He needs him.
Viktor doesn't say anything, instead breaking the embrace so he can look Yuuri in the eyes. He really is crying.
Yuuri can't comprehend what happens next. One minute he's hugging the man and the next his lips are pressed firmly against Viktor's and it is bliss.
Finally.
Finally, the man he's wanted to impress most has noticed him. He's overjoyed, completely consumed by the kiss, so much so that he can't hear the roar of the crowd cheering them on.
Yuuri loves skating, yes. But there isn't a doubt in his mind that he loves Viktor a whole lot more.