34 | stay

STAY

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The ride back to Diana's apartment had been a blur. After the confrontation in the hallway, she'd only wanted to disappear. The bright lights of the ballroom, the thunder of applause, the endless hum of press chatter — it all felt like a different universe compared to the knot sitting in her chest.

She hadn't argued when Dani suggested that they should do a movie night to take her mind off everything. She didn't argue when Malachi said he would pick up food and bring it over. Honestly, Diana hadn't argued with anything.

Inside, the five of them spread out across her small but warm living room. Containers of takeout littered the coffee table, the smell of garlic bread and pasta filling the space. Diana had hardly touched her food, but she smiled when Nikita stole a breadstick from Pasha's box and scampered off like she'd pulled off the heist of the century.

The laughter that followed was exactly what Diana needed.

They talked about random things — nothing important, nothing heavy. Dani told a story about Pasha trying to fix the sink and flooding their kitchen. Malachi teased Pasha about it until Nikita, sensing an opportunity, started shouting "Uh oh, Papa!" and dissolved the group into fresh laughter.

For a little while, Diana forgot about the ballroom, about the fight, about the venom in Grayson's words. She let herself laugh, even if it felt fragile at first.

An hour later, the food was mostly gone, and they'd all curled into the couches to watch a movie.

Pasha sat in the armchair with Nikita on his chest, the toddler finally asleep, her tiny hand fisted in his shirt. Dani and Diana were on the couch, shoulders pressed together, the kind of easy closeness Diana had always loved about their friendship. Malachi sat at the other end, his long legs stretched out, his presence both quiet and grounding.

Diana's feet had naturally extended out, brushing lightly against Malachi's leg. She hadn't meant to do it, hadn't thought about it — but when she noticed, she didn't move them. And when she caught him glancing at her once, then again, she knew he hadn't minded either.

Every so often, she'd shift her gaze to him, watching the way the flickering light from the TV softened his features, the way his mouth twitched when something on screen was funny. And sometimes, when she wasn't looking, she could feel his eyes on her too.

The movie ended in quiet. Nikita was fully asleep, Pasha gently rocking her without even realizing it. Dani stretched, yawning.

"We should get her home," she whispered, nodding toward her daughter.

Diana sat up, immediately helping gather a few stray blankets and empty containers. She didn't want them to leave — the thought of the apartment going quiet again made her chest tighten — but she also knew it was late.

At the door, she hugged Pasha first, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Nikita's hair. "Goodnight, Keeks," she whispered, her heart softening at the toddler's peaceful face.

Then Dani pulled her in tightly. It wasn't a casual hug; it was grounding, strong, the kind of embrace that seemed to say I know you're not okay, but you're not alone.

Dani's voice dropped to a whisper against her ear. "Are you sure you'll be okay? I can stay tonight if you want. You don't have to be by yourself."

Diana pulled back, meeting her friend's searching gaze. She forced a small smile. "I'll be okay. Go home, get her to bed. You need rest too."

Dani's frown lingered, but she nodded, "Call me if you need anything. I mean it." Kissing Diana's cheek before stepping out into the hall with Pasha.

The door clicked shut.

The apartment was quiet after Daniella and Pasha left, the faint hum of the fridge filling the silence as Malachi helped Diana stack the last of the takeout containers into the recycling. The apartment still smelled faintly of garlic and sauce, the scent mingling with the faint floral candle she'd lit earlier to mask the stress of the night.

"Thanks for helping," Diana murmured as she wiped down the coffee table. Her voice was soft, almost tired.

"Of course," Malachi said simply. He offered her one of those small, grounding smiles, the kind that never felt forced. Then he bent down to grab his sneakers from by the door. "I should probably go."

Diana froze, cloth still in her hand. The thought of being alone again—after the chaos of the show, the confrontation with Grayson, the way his words had sliced through her confidence like glass—settled heavy in her chest. She didn't want the night to end. Didn't want to be left with her thoughts echoing in the dark.

Before she could overthink it, she reached out and gently caught his arm. "Wait," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He turned, brows furrowing as his eyes flicked to hers. "Yeah?"

Her heart thudded nervously against her ribs, but she forced the words out. "Will you... stay?"

For a beat, the world seemed to pause. His gaze softened, his lips parting in surprise before curving into the smallest, most tender smile. "Of course," he said, the two words so full of quiet certainty that it almost made her chest ache.

He moved to set his shoes down again, making his way toward the couch, but Diana stopped him with a nervous laugh. "Not there," she said quickly. Her pulse fluttered in her throat.

He froze mid-step, his eyes widening as he realized what she meant. "Are you sure?"

Diana nodded, clutching the cloth still in her hand like a lifeline. "Unless you don't want to."

His head shook immediately, his voice stumbling over itself. "No—I mean, yes, I do want to. I just... didn't want to assume."

Something about his flustered honesty made her lips twitch upward. She set the cloth down, leading him toward her bedroom.

"Make yourself comfortable," she said, ducking into the bathroom to wipe away her makeup and change. The cool water against her face did little to wash away the knot of emotions tangled in her chest. By the time she tugged on her softest sleep shirt and shorts, her reflection looked less like a girl ready for bed and more like someone still carrying the weight of the night.

When she returned, she stopped dead in the doorway. Malachi was already settled on her bed, leaning against the pillows, scrolling through his phone, shirtless. Her eyes betrayed her before she could help it, tracing the lines of his chest before darting away, heat rushing to her cheeks.

He looked up at her, sitting up slightly. "I—sorry," he said quickly. "It was hot. I can put it back on if it makes you uncomfortable."

Her blush deepened, but she shook her head. "No, it's fine," she said softly, slipping into the other side of the bed.

Something flickered in his eyes, but he just gave a small nod, leaning back.

For a while, silence settled between them, broken only by the occasional car passing outside. Diana lay on her side, her shoulder brushing the sheets, her breathing steady as she stared into the dim glow of the city lights leaking through the blinds.

"Thank you," she said suddenly, her voice quiet.

Malachi turned his head toward her, brow raised.

She met his gaze, her eyes earnest. "For standing up for me tonight. You didn't have to—but you did."

His jaw flexed, like the memory of Grayson's words still left a sour taste in his mouth. "You don't have to thank me. I'll always stand up for you."

The sincerity in his tone made her throat tighten. She smiled faintly, whispering, "I know. But still... thank you."

He gave her a small smile back, one that said everything words didn't.

"Goodnight, Mal," she whispered.

"Goodnight, Di."

She rolled over, turning her back to him, letting the dark cradle her. But as the minutes stretched, the weight of the evening pressed harder on her chest.

Grayson's voice echoed in her head, cruel and sharp. This is on you. You ruined us. Maybe if I had a better partner...I'd still be here.

Her throat tightened, her breaths shallow as she replayed the fight in painful detail. His glare, the venom in his tone, the way he made her feel small—like every bit of her hard work on this show was meaningless compared to fan wars and ship edits.

She tried to push it away, tried to focus on the steady rhythm of her own breathing. But her chest ached, and before she realized it, tears slipped silently down her cheeks, dampening her pillow.

She bit her lip hard, trying to keep quiet. The last thing she wanted was for Malachi to know. He had seen her cry enough tonight. Her shoulders shook slightly as she buried her face deeper into the pillow, muffling the sound.

But silence wasn't enough. She felt it—his presence shifting closer, the mattress dipping slightly. Then, without a word, a warm hand slid gently across her waist.

Her breath caught as Malachi pulled her back against him, his chest firm and steady against her spine. His arm wrapped around her, strong and protective, his touch careful but sure.

He didn't speak, didn't ask, didn't press. And somehow, that made her tears fall harder. Because he knew. He'd felt the trembling in her body, the way she tried to hide. And instead of calling her out, he just held her, grounding her in the quiet.

Her heart raced at the closeness, at the safety that radiated from him like warmth on a cold night. Each breath he took against her back made her own steady just a little more. Slowly, the storm inside her calmed, the sting of Grayson's words fading under the gentle strength of Malachi's arms.

Her tears eventually slowed, exhaustion creeping in. With her head tucked beneath his chin, his thumb drawing circles on her stomach, she let herself drift.

For the first time that night, Diana felt safe enough to close her eyes. Safe enough to sleep.

And she did—quietly, peacefully—wrapped in his arms.

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AHHHHHHI LOVE THEM

they're actually so adorable and next chapter they're even more adorable 😊