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Yuuri doesn't expect it, which is why it affects him so strongly. It happens while he and Viktor are at the train station, traveling to Hakone for a long-needed luxury vacation. Viktor is handling their luggage, which leaves Yuuri to deal with the train ticket machines. He has just pushed the last button when he hears behind him, "Excuse me! Katsuki-senshu! Is it true you're sleeping with your coach, Viktor?"
Yuuri blanches, his fingers touching the edge of his tickets. Carefully, he takes the tickets and puts them in his pocket, then turns around. He stares blankly at the reporter, who has an actual cameraman with him and a microphone, which he shoves in Yuuri's face. Yuuri opens and closes his mouth, unable to process the question beyond, Did he really just ask that?
"I, um..."
"Is it true that you and your coach engaged in illicit activities at the Cup of China in Beijing? What do your parents think? Is this the first time you've engaged in sexual promiscuity with your coach? What does your former coach, Celestino Cialdini, think of this?"
"I'm sorry, but we're not taking questions at this time," says a smooth voice, charming and yet bitingly cold to his ears, and suddenly, Yuuri's vision is filled with the back of Viktor's coat.
"Coach Viktor!" the reporter says quickly, switching to English and thrusting the microphone toward Viktor. "Do you have any comment on the allegation that Katsuki-senshu's recent silver medal at the GPF was the result of inappropriate activ--"
Viktor cuts him off by holding up a hand. "That is extremely inappropriate," Viktor says coldly. "Such allegations are false, and our romantic relationship has not impacted our professional relationship. Besides, Yuuri also won gold at Nationals, and you're not asking about that. Enough. No more questions."
"But Coach Viktor --"
Yuuri has to give the reporter kudos for being so persistent with his invasive questions. He can't move or say anything; he hasn't been able to speak since the horrible questions started. Viktor gives the reporter and camera a glare and turns his back on them, gently wrapping an arm around Yuuri's shoulders.
"Do you have the train tickets?" Viktor whispers gently. Yuuri can only nod, a short, jerking motion. Viktor exhales and begins to escort them both away.
The reporter follows them. His questions get louder, and they switch back to Japanese. People are beginning to stare, and Yuuri is beginning to feel faint, nauseous. A response is building inside him, but he is afraid of all the people staring, all of the attention -- of Viktor whose reputation now rests on the words Yuuri wants to say.
He can't say it.
A few feet before they reach the turnstile, Viktor turns suddenly and glares at the reporter and the small crowd following them. "I will call the authorities if you continue to harass us," Viktor threatens, and the crowd quickly disperses. The reporter eyes them narrowly, but Viktor holds his ground, while Yuuri stares down at his feet.
Finally the reporter and his cameraman slink away, and Viktor sighs deeply. "Vultures," Viktor mutters, then says little more until they have tucked their suitcases away on the train and are sitting down. He rummages in the little bag of snacks and drinks that they bought at the station, then tucks them under the seat in front of Yuuri, still frowning.
"Okay?" Viktor asks Yuuri, who merely nods, staring at his hands resting uselessly on his knees. He's an embarrassment to Viktor. Because they kissed in Beijing, because of Barcelona, because Yuuri can't keep his hands to himself. He couldn't keep the relationship between them purely professional. Viktor must be ashamed of him; he might even leave Yuuri to avoid the public scrutiny.
His panic wells up, and Yuuri cannot stop it. He barely holds in his anxiety, roiling around in his head, as the train departs from the station.
Twenty minutes into the train departing, Yuuri finally finds his voice, as soft as it is. He tries not to disturb the other passengers; most of them are talking or listening to headphones. "I'm sorry," he whispers.
Viktor glances over at him in confusion. "Hmm? What are you sorry for, Yuuri?"
"F-for being shameful," Yuuri whispers. "That reporter's questions... if I wasn't... if I hadn't--"
Viktor reaches over to take Yuuri's hand, turning it over and gently prying it out of its clenched state. He touches Yuuri's ring, while gazing at Yuuri's face worriedly. "Yuuri, what's wrong? Talk to me, sweetheart."
The endearment makes Yuuri's heart break. He bows his head, then suddenly gets up and moves past Viktor, fleeing down the center aisle to where the restrooms are. He hears a noise behind him, and just as he reaches the restroom, Viktor puts a hand on his shoulder. Yuuri tries to pull away, but Viktor merely pushes him forward into the restroom, following him into the small space and locking the door. Yuuri whirls to stare at him, eyes wide, but the look on Viktor's face silences him.
His eyes are burning blue, focused with determined intent on Yuuri, who steps back. Viktor catches Yuuri's face in his hands and leans in, kissing him once. His ring is warm against Yuuri's cheek.
"Talk to me, sweetheart," Viktor says again, soft and worried, and Yuuri breaks apart.
"I'm so ashamed of the things that reporter asked," Yuuri gasps, his expression crumpling as the tears finally spill over. "He kept asking about us having s-sex, in the middle of the station, and he asked if, if you were the first coach I f-fucked, and -- it's humiliating! You don't deserve to have them talking about you like that, and people kept staring, listening to it, and it's probably already on social media, and... I'm so ashamed..."
Viktor's thumbs brush over his cheeks, wiping his tears away gently. "Yuuri, I'm so sorry you had to deal with that. I don't care what they say about me. They shouldn't have said those things to you. That was horrible of them, and you didn't deserve it. I know it's not true."
Yuuri nods once, determined that Viktor understand. He is so afraid of Viktor deciding he isn't worth it, that he should leave Yuuri after all -- and Viktor seems to read his mind, because he softens with sadness and leans in to kiss Yuuri's forehead.
"Sweetheart, I'm not going to leave you," Viktor murmurs against Yuuri's hair. "The media can set itself on fire for all I care. You are what is important to me. Nothing, no one, especially not a rude reporter and his rude questions, will ever come between us. We made a promise, didn't we?"
Yuuri nods slightly, unsure if he can manage speaking. He reaches up to wrap his arms around Viktor, and Viktor hugs him back tightly, tucking Yuuri's head under his chin. He runs his fingers over Yuuri's hair, his ring brushing Yuuri's ear, and it reminds him of that day in Barcelona, when Viktor's fingers trembled as Yuuri slid that ring onto his finger.
He relaxes, enough that his tears finally stop. He believes in Viktor.
"Let's go sit down and rest, okay?" Viktor offers gently, and Yuuri nods, content to let Viktor take control. Whatever the media believes, they know the truth, and that is all they need.