27 | late night confessions

LATE NIGHT CONFESSIONS

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The ride home after the show had been a blur. Diana couldn't remember the drive, couldn't remember slipping her bag off her shoulder and kicking off her shoes by the door. All she could remember was the feeling of Grayson's hand squeezing hers on live television, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable, and then the way her stomach had twisted when they were called safe. Relief should've been the only emotion she felt. Instead, something sharper had lingered underneath — a tiny, shameful whisper in her chest that had wished it was all over.

Now, hours later, her apartment was wrapped in silence. The city lights poured in through the half-closed blinds, painting strips of gold across the hardwood floor. Diana sat curled up on her couch, knees pulled against her chest, still wearing the oversized sweatshirt she'd tugged on once the show ended.

She should've been replaying the audience's cheers in her head, the applause, the safety of being called through another week. She should've been texting Aspen back with the celebratory emojis her best friend had sent, or posting photos on instagram. Instead, all she could hear was the echo of Carrie Ann's critique about their connection being gone. All she could see was Grayson's face in the moments after they'd finished dancing, his frustration hidden behind a press-ready smile.

Her chest tightened.

How had things unraveled so fast?

Just a week ago, she'd been on top of the world. Two 10s, nearly perfect scores, the kind of praise a new pro dreamed of. She remembered the rush of it — the lights, the music, the crowd. But tonight... tonight had been different. Tonight, all she felt was dread.

She let out a long sigh and pushed herself up from the couch, padding barefoot into the kitchen. The hum of the refrigerator was the only sound. She pulled a glass of water from the cabinet, her hands shaking slightly as she set it down on the counter. Her body was exhausted, but her mind refused to quiet.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Grayson — the way he'd looked at her when she told him she wouldn't cut off Malachi. His scoff, his sharp "fine, but if it goes wrong, it's on you." That look in his eyes right before he turned away.

She took a sip of water, leaning her elbows on the counter. The apartment felt too big, too quiet.

A knock at the door made her jump.

Her brows furrowed, heart skipping. It was nearly one — who would be here at this hour?

She padded toward the door cautiously, pulling her sweatshirt tighter around herself. Another knock, lighter this time. She hesitated, then unlocked the door and cracked it open.

And there he was.

Malachi. Standing in the hallway, dressed in a hoodie and sweats, his hair a little messy from the night air. In his hand was a familiar white cup with a red palm-tree logo and a domed lid — In-N-Out.

Specifically, a chocolate shake.

Diana blinked, confusion flickering across her face. "What are you doing here?" she asked softly, her voice rough from holding in too much all night.

Malachi lifted the cup with a small, almost sheepish smile. "You ran off before I could talk to you. Figured you could use a pick-me-up."

For a moment, Diana just stared at him, the words refusing to leave her mouth. The gesture was so... Malachi. Thoughtful, simple, but carrying far more weight than he realized. She swallowed, finally letting a small smile pull at her lips.

"A chocolate shake?" she asked, her voice softer now.

"Your favorite," he said, holding it out.

Diana shook her head quickly and took it from his hand, fingers brushing against his for half a second longer than necessary. Her chest tightened at the realization. He always remembered.

She stepped back, opening the door wider. "Come in."

Malachi followed her inside, closing the door gently behind him. He looked around the apartment, casual and comfortable. Diana curled back onto the couch, tucking her legs under her as she poked the straw through the shake's lid.

Malachi dropped onto the cushion beside her, not too close, but close enough that the warmth of his presence immediately softened the tight knot in her stomach.

She took a long sip, the cool chocolate easing her throat, and sighed. "Thank you. Seriously. You didn't have to..."

"I wanted to," he cut in gently. His tone was simple, sure, like it wasn't even a question.

Diana looked down at the cup, swirling the straw absently. "I really needed this," she admitted.

Malachi leaned back, resting his arm along the top of the couch. He wasn't looking at her directly, but his attention was steady. "That's why I came," he said. "Don't worry about what happened tonight. You'll kill it next week. You and Grayson always figure it out."

The mention of Grayson made Diana's stomach twist again. Her fingers tightened around the cup. She forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I don't know about that," she muttered before she could stop herself.

Malachi's head turned instantly, his brows drawing together. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing," she said quickly, shaking her head. She tried to cover it with another sip of her shake, but the words still lingered in the air between them.

Malachi didn't buy it. His gaze was steady, gentle but unrelenting. "Diana," he said quietly. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

Her heart picked up speed. She stared at the cup in her hands, watching condensation bead against the plastic. "It's nothing," she said again, but even she could hear the thinness in her voice.

Malachi leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. "It's clearly not nothing. You can tell me."

The earnestness in his tone cracked something in her. She let out a shaky sigh, setting the shake down on the coffee table. Her hands lingered in her lap, fidgeting with the edge of her sweatshirt sleeve.

"I don't even know where to start," she whispered.

"Start anywhere," Malachi said. His brows softened, his voice steady, patient.

Her throat tightened. For days she'd been holding it all in, trying to carry the weight of it because she didn't want to be seen as unprofessional or weak. But Malachi's presence, the quiet steadiness he offered, was like a dam breaking.

"Okay," she said finally.

And when she looked up, Malachi nodded once, silently promising he'd listen.

She closed her eyes for a moment and took another deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. "Things with Grayson have been... so hard," she started, her voice trembling. "Whenever you're mentioned—whether it's in conversation, in a photo, or you physically being there—he... he gets mad. I don't know why he can't just... let it go." Her hands trembled lightly.

Malachi's eyes widened slightly, but he remained quiet, waiting for her to continue.

"And we fight. We argue. Sometimes it's small, sometimes it's... intense," she continued, her voice cracking as she spoke. "And then there was last week... after the show. You hugged me, and you... you wiped that tear away, and he saw it. He... he looked so pissed."

Malachi's jaw tightened, his brows furrowing. He opened his mouth to speak, but Diana pressed on, not wanting to pause, wanting to get it all out.

"And then... camera blocking," she whispered, looking down at her lap. "We argued about you being there. And he acted like it was a personal attack. And on top of that... when we ran through our rehearsal, it was awful. And he—he blamed me for that too. For everything that went wrong. And then today... today, he told me I shouldn't even be friends with you. That I need to focus on dancing with him and stop talking to you until the show's over."

Malachi's eyes went wide, the shock clear on his face. "He... he said that?" he asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and anger.

Diana nodded, a small, bitter laugh escaping her. "I told him no. That's not happening. That you're my friend and it's not going to change."

Malachi's lip curled into a small scoff, a mix of frustration and protectiveness. "Good," he said firmly. "He doesn't get to control your life. No one does."

Diana nodded slowly, tears threatening to spill again. "I know... I know that."

"Diana, how long has this been going on?" Malachi asks.

"A couple of weeks now..." she trails off for a moment before letting out a sigh. "I'm just... exhausted. I can't... I can't even enjoy rehearsals anymore without wondering if he's going to snap."

Her hands shook, and a tear rolled down her cheek. She sniffled, trying to steady herself, but the emotions were too strong. "And there's... there's a part of me," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, "that wished we'd been eliminated tonight. That maybe it would've been easier that way."

Malachi's chest tightened, a pang of heartbreak shooting through him. Without a word, he reached out and pulled her into him, holding her as if he could shield her from all the pain in the world. Diana buried her face into his chest, letting the tears fall freely now, and she could feel him rocking her gently, his arms tight around her.

"I'm not... I'm not an awful person for saying that, am I?" she whispered, voice muffled against his sweatshirt.

"No," Malachi said firmly, his voice low and certain. "No. Absolutely not. You are human. You are allowed to feel. And he... he doesn't deserve a partner like you. Not you. Never you."

Diana sniffled, curling even closer into him, letting herself feel safe for the first time in weeks. Her hands clutched at his sweatshirt, anchoring herself, trying to slow the chaos inside her.

Malachi exhaled slowly, anger and protectiveness simmering in every line of his body. He gritted his teeth slightly, his hands tightening around her, almost unconsciously. "Next time I see him," he muttered, his voice low, trembling with restrained fury, "I swear... I'm gonna—"

Diana's head shot up at his words, her tear-streaked face looking into his, panic mingled with awe. "Malachi..." she whispered, placing her hands over his.

He looked down at her, his eyes dark, almost stormy. "I'm not saying I'll do anything stupid. I'm just... I hate seeing him treat you like this. You don't deserve it, Diana. And if he tries to hurt you, even emotionally, I... I won't just stand by."

Diana's heart ached at the raw intensity in his voice. She leaned into him again, resting her forehead against his chest, letting herself breathe in the safety of his presence. "I... I don't want you to do anything," she whispered. "Please. I can't have drama, not with it being my first year as a pro. I... I'll handle it. I promise."

Malachi's eyes softened, but the concern remained. "Diana..."

"I mean it," she insisted, looking up at him, holding his face gently in her hands. "I can't afford this right now. Not with the show, not with everything. Please, just let it go."

Malachi sighed deeply, the tension in his shoulders slowly releasing, though his protective energy remained like a shield around her. "Fine," he said, voice still low but calmer. "But you promise me... if he crosses a line again, if things get worse... you call me. No excuses."

Diana nodded immediately, tears still spilling down her cheeks. "I promise," she whispered, resting her head back against his chest.

Malachi pressed a kiss to the top of her head, holding her even tighter. "Good," he murmured. "Because you shouldn't have to deal with this alone. You shouldn't have to feel trapped or scared or... or unloved. And anyone who makes you feel that way... they're the problem, not you."

Diana curled into him, letting herself finally relax, the storm of fear, anxiety, and heartbreak easing slightly. The weight of everything, the exhaustion from fights, from walking on eggshells, from being blamed for things she didn't do... it lifted, if only in this moment.

They stayed there, locked in the cocoon of each other's arms, for what felt like hours. Malachi's chin rested on the top of her head, his hands moving soothingly along her back, grounding her. Diana's tears continued to fall, her body trembling as she exhaled shakily, finding strength in his unwavering presence.

For a long time, the only sound was their quiet breathing, the subtle shuffle of their clothes as they adjusted for comfort, the muted hum of the city outside. In that apartment, in that embrace, Diana finally felt a fraction of the peace she had been craving. Malachi didn't need to say anything else. His presence, his protectiveness, his fierce dedication to her well-being... it spoke louder than any words ever could.

And in that quiet, shared stillness, Diana finally allowed herself to rest. She wasn't alone. She wasn't broken. And for the first time in weeks, she felt like she could breathe again.

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ahhh they're so cute 🥰

malachi officially knows!!now she has dani and malachi watching out for her

next chapter we'll get a little more malachi moments... and unfortunately more grayson moments toosorry

side note, i just bought my dwts tour tickets and i am sooo excited!!😊