Star Wars Guys x Reader

How Much You're Loved: Cassian Andor x Reader

A/N: requested by sadstrarwarsfan14 <3

Warnings: suicide, swearing, self harm, blood, reader has to be admitted to a crisis centre

Word count: 1061

You find yourself locked in the bathroom again, razor blade in your hand. This time, you're determined to cut along the veins, not across. This time, you're determined to end yourself at last and dissolve away into nothing so no one will have to worry about you, no one will have to constantly keep an eye on you. You're tired of the concern in their eyes whenever they look at you, tired of the covert glances at your wrists, tired of the way they all dance around you. They shouldn't have to carry your burden - it's something that should be yours alone, and if you buckle under it, so be it.

Taking a deep breath, you lower the blade to your skin, barely flinching at the sting of it because all you can feel right now is the will to end it in your veins, the sheer determination to get rid of yourself because no one else will.

'Sweetheart? Are you in there?'

You freeze, head snapping up at the sound of Cassian's voice. The doorknob turns, and when he finds that the door is locked, panic seeps into his tone as he knocks frantically, calling your name again and again, begging you to open up and let him know that you're alright. And that's something you can't do. So you keep the door locked.

'If you don't open the door I'm picking the lock,' he warns.

You sigh, knowing that he's going to carry through, and you don't want the door to be broken again. Slipping the razor blade into the drawer - not that it will matter, he'll see the beginnings of the cut on your forearm - you unlock the door, stumbling backwards when he practically flies through and grabs you in his arms, holding you to his chest and squeezing you tight. After a few seconds, he realises that you aren't hugging back, and he pulls back, quick eyes flicking down your frame as he searches for injuries.

His gaze pauses immediately on your arm, where you haven't even bothered to pull your sleeve down, and he falters, glancing back up to your face. Gently, he catches your forearm and inspects the cut you made, his expression getting more and more grim as he grabs the medkit from under the sink, noticing the blade in the drawer and throwing it in the bin before he begins to get out gauze and antibacterial wipes.

'There's no point bandaging it,' you say. Because you'll just cut again. And again and again until one day it all stops.

He shrugs, clenching his jaw before swiping the wipe over your cut, pressing it down to stop the bleeding. You watch him, no words left as he cleans you up as methodically as the first time, and you find yourself wondering why he even bothers doing this every single time when you both know he's perfectly aware of what you want.

'Why do you do this to yourself?' He asks suddenly.
'I don't want to live any more,' you answer bluntly. 'That's why I do it, Cass, but you're always there, trying to stop me. One day, you won't be, and then maybe I'll be able to finish myself off.'
He shakes his head. 'Don't say that, my love. Please don't say that.'
'Why not?' You ask. 'You don't need me, you - '
'But I love you.'
You sigh. 'You know, Cass, I love you too, but I'm just weighing you down. You should be out there, toppling the Empire, not trying to stop the death of someone who wants to die.'
'No,' he says. 'No, I do need you. You're the one I fight for, you're the one I live for.'
You shrug. 'I don't doubt for a moment that you don't love me, but I think you're lying to yourself, Cass. You never will need me, and you never have.'

Cassian ties off your bandages and stands up, his face twisted into an expression you've never seen before. It's a turmoil of emotions, hurt, worry, pain, frustration, but mostly just deep, deep sadness. He turns his soulful eyes on you, grabbing your hand and squeezing your fingers.

'I'm taking you to the Crisis Centre.'
You shake your head. 'No. No. You are not taking me there.'
'Why?' He demands. 'Or do you just know that if I take you there they'll make sure you don't kill yourself?'

You don't try and deny his words, because you know they're true. Turning away, you turn to walk out of the bathroom, but he grabs your arm and pulls you to him, holding you close to his chest and burying his face in your hair. You feel his fingers trail down your collarbone until they're pressed over your pulse, your stupid, insistent heartbeat pushing rebelliously against his palm.

'I can't lose you,' he chokes, and you feel him begin to tremble. 'I can't bear the thought of you gone, I - I - '

You look up and see that he's crying, tears streaking down his face as he clutches you to him, eyes squeezed shut as he keeps you in a tight embrace. And then he's picking you up, wiping his face and holding you in an unbreakable grip as he unlocks his speeder. You know where he's taking you, you know that he's doing this for you, but even then, you struggle when he sets you down in the passenger seat. You glance over the side of the speeder, and he looks over and locks the door on your side with the push of a button.

'Don't try it,' he says, his voice raw. 'I'm taking you there, whether you like it or not, because I don't think you know how much you're needed. How much you'd be - be missed.'

His voice cracks, and he falls silent, clenching his jaw and keeping his eyes on the road until he arrives at the Crisis Centre. Firmly holding your hand, he helps you out of the speeder and leads you in. Wrapping an arm around you, he grips you tight, and you find yourself leaning into his touch, trusting his words when he tells you that you're going to be okay.

And as one of the droids leads you away to get your arm checked, he squeezes your hand three times, says,

'You don't know how much you're loved.'

i'm sorry tbh i dont really know what happens in a crisis centre so if there's stuff which makes no sense please let me know so i can change it (and also sorry i couldnt figure out how to end it)