In which Victor skates for Yuuri

…o…

The Grand Prix Final.

Or, to be more specific, Victor's fifth consecutive Grand Prix Final.

It was no surprise to anyone when the silver-haired idol had placed in first rankings to make it to the final, and they certainly wouldn't be surprised if he won again. In fact, one could say that it was even expected.

That was the issue.

Victor skated through all his performances with the goal of surprising people. But after so many years of skating like that, everyone weren't surprised anymore. They expected new records. They expected new themes. They expected perfection.

But Victor wasn't sure he could give that to them anymore.

He wanted to skate because he liked—no, because he loved to. But the ever foreboding pressure of pleasing his fans and the media were starting to get to his head. He couldn't surprise them anymore. He couldn't surprise himself.

"Vitya."

Victor blinked, realizing that he was holding on to the rim of the rink a bit too tightly. His knuckles were beginning to turn white, so he released and glanced up at his coach.

Yakov looked concerned, to say the least. His eyebrows were knitted in worry and his mouth was turned in a grim frown. He didn't say anything more, just looking at Victor, which communicated a lot. The skater sighed and made his way to the exit as a voice came over the speakers.

"First is Yuuri Katsuki, the sixth place qualifier for the final. Katsuki hails from Japan, where he is—"

Victor's eyes widened, and he nearly tripped as he pushed past Yakov to get closer to the rink. His coach yelled at him, waving his skate guards in the air. Victor absentmindedly grabbed them, but his eyes remained focused on the figure in the middle of the rink.

That had to be him.

His face was knit in concentration, his black locks pushed out of the way of his beautiful dark brown eyes. His outfit was a soft blue, shimmering slightly in the rink's lights. It took all of Victor's willpower to look away and turn to his confused coach.

"Vitya, what are you doing?"

"Yakov," Victor murmured, suddenly grasping the older man by the shoulders. "Yakov, that's him."

The stone-faced man grumbled a few words after processing what Victor meant, before heading back to the bleachers. Victor, however, remained amongst all the cameramen, leaning as close to the rink as possible. Standing next to him was a tanned man with bushy hair, who Victor assumed was Yuuri's coach. He also seemed a bit anxious, his eyes flitting from the cameras, to Yuuri, to the bleachers.

And then the music started.

But Yuuri didn't.

He only moved when the man next to Victor yelled something, but his movements were stiff and jerky. Victor frowned. He had heard of Yuuri's skating before, but only as "the qualifier from Japan," as he didn't interact with other foreign skaters that much. But even then, this was not at all the skating that Victor had heard about. Yuuri was known for being a graceful performer, even if his technical scores were a bit lackluster. That was how he had even managed to qualify for the final.

Right now, he looked like a newborn duckling that had yet to learn how to walk.

He touched the ice on most of his turns, and two of his loops turned into singles. His fell at least two times, struggling to get up quickly as well. His only emotion he expressed was nervousness, his entire body shaking as if he had been dunked in a pool full of cold water.

He collapsed on the ice as soon as the music finished, his body still shaking, but this time it was clear to see that it was because of the sobs racking his body. After a minute, he stumbled to the exit, ignoring the murmurs of the crowd. He pushed past his coach, he had run to meet him, and headed immediately to the Kiss and Cry.

Victor winced as he heard the score.

The other performances passed by in a blur, and all Victor could do was applaud politely and watch the rankings shift and change. Yakov nudged him as Christophe entered the Kiss and Cry, and Victor began to prepare to enter the ice.

Victor waved at the crowd, a smile gracing his features as he skated to the center. Yakov stared at him from the sidelines, standing next to another one of his students – the junior's gold medalist, Yuri Plisetsky. Yakov had his arms crossed and a neutral expression on his face, as per usual. Yuri had his hood pulled off, but the expression on his face was no less intense.

Victor hadn't seen Yuuri since the Kiss and Cry moment, but all he could do was hope that his soulmate was just being interviewed somewhere, still by a television where he could see what Victor was about to do.

The song began.

For so many years, Victor skated for others. He skated for his friends, his family. He skated for his fans and supporters. But never had he never truly skated for himself.

Triple Salchow.

That was the only thing, he imagined, that was left to surprise anyone. For once, to just let everything go. His worries, his aspirations, his being. All that was left was to skate. To dance. To be. That had been his goal all along with the short program, but until seeing Yuuri, he hadn't been able to execute that.

Quadruple Flip. The crowd cheered, but Victor didn't hear.

The rest of the program went by in a haze, Victor's mind only focused on one thing, or rather, one person. He landed his jumps perfectly, and when he passed by Yakov during the step sequence, he glanced a look of shock. He allowed himself a small smile, before being pulled back into the song.

Yakov hugged him at the Kiss and Cry as his score was revealed. He had achieved a new personal best, and therefore, a new world record. Even Yuri, who had barely talked to before, congratulated him. Immediately after the medal ceremony, the press attempted to swarmed him, bombarding him with questions. He smiled and attempted to answer, but his words were muddled and his tone exhausted. Yakov took notice, and pulled him away with some made-up excuse.

"Have you seen him?" Victor blurted out the second they stepped into the green room. Yakov shook his head.

"He wasn't in the stands with the other skaters, and he wasn't with Celestino."

"Celestino?'

"His coach."

"Oh."

Yakov patted him on the back, a sympathetic frown on his face, as if recalling the love that he had once held with his own soulmate. "I'm sorry, Vitya. But you'll see him again soon. There's still the exhibition and banquet, after all."

…o…

The exhibition was a bust. The banquet, however, was not.

…o…

Ohgoshohgoshohgosh

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Thank you so so so much for the overwhelming support! I wish I could respond to all the reviews but I've lost track of them all. XD

But it means so much to me that you all like this fic! I honestly can't believe that I'm getting this much support omg.

QOTD: Thoughts on the last episode? Respond in a review!

Answer: Oh gosh, it was amazing! The face that Yuri wanted to get gold at the very end so that Yuuri wouldn't quit…that character development. And I can't wait for season 2! On another note, Kubo-sensei's Instagram is so cute. I die every time I go through it.

Friendly reminder: I'm looking for a beta reader to help me improve my chapters! I'd really prefer if you'd be able to use Google Drive, though.

Review goal: 25?

…o…