#cassian lives as a bastard but dies a hero

[loveoaths]

wrote an entire post to figure out how cassian/din could work as a hypothetical, but now i’m really attached to the idea and i want to blow myself up

[theladyofdeath]

V O I D { T W E L V E }

Chapter 12. An ACOTAR fanfiction.

Nessian. Elriel. Feysand.

Previous chapters:  Fanfic Masterlist

 “It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart.” – Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins

Cassian hadn’t been to church since he was a child, and the moment he stepped into the sanctuary he literally thought that he might burst into flames.

He didn’t.

He did, however, sit in a pew in the middle of the large room and stared at the stained-glass cross behind the pulpit. It was empty, no one in sight. He preferred it that way. He didn’t want to be preached at, just wanted to observe, reflect in the quiet. It was a small church, unable to hold hardly any more than a hundred people, if that. When he was young, Cassian thought it was huge, though.

And he had always admired the ancient stained-glass windows. 

He heard the door open and close behind him, then the footsteps of whoever it was stopped.

A quiet curse filled the room.

Cassian glanced over his shoulder. “You know, you’re not supposed to curse in a church.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Obviously, I didn’t know anyone was here. I’ll go.”

Cassian turned back around and faced the cross. “You don’t have to.”

At first, he thought she hadn’t heard him, or that she had simply walked away. But, a moment later, she sat across the aisle in the same row as he.

For a minute, no one talked. Then, Cassian said, “I’m sorry for what I said yesterday. I don’t know you, and I shouldn’t have said what I did about you.”

She gave him a curt nod. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t, but Cassian nodded, anyway. “I couldn’t sleep last night. Your words kept replaying in my mind. Maybe that’s why fate sent you here, to give me another kick in the ass.”

“You’re not supposed to curse in a church,” Nesta muttered, copying his earlier words.

Cassian chuckled.

“And it wasn’t fate,” Nesta went on. “I live around the corner. I come here sometimes. I like the glass. And the quiet. The solitude.”

Cassian nodded, looking around at the stained-glass windows. “My mom used to take me and my sister here when we were little. I think she came to pray for my father. We all used to pray for him. But they were never answered. Instead, my mom died leaving us alone with him.”

Nesta didn’t say anything at first, but he knew she was watching him. “And you think that was God’s fault?”

Cassian cleared his throat, rubbing his sweaty palms against his jeans, as he did in uncomfortable situations. “I want to believe in God. I want to believe He’s there, watching over us...I used to lie awake at night, praying for a better life. But, I’m an underage alcoholic with rage issues, no parents, and a little sister that I can’t set a good example for if my life depended on it.”

Nesta shifted in the pew across the aisle. “My mom used to say that God doesn’t control our lives or the people in it, but he’s there when we need him. When we want to talk, to vent. I don’t know why he works in mysterious ways, but mom always said that he does. I’ve been questioning it a lot, too, lately...if there is a God, and if there is, why am I in so much pain? Why do I not want to live, why do I hate who I am...I wish I had all the answers, but I don’t. I wish I understood life and all its struggles and obstacles, but I don’t. But, I do know that I feel better today than I did yesterday, and I do believe that people are sent into our lives to give us the little bit of light that we need to keep on going.”

Cassian understood her meaning. “Hale?”

Nesta looked at him, and for the first time, their eyes connected. “I wanted to die. I was ready. And he saved me. Literally. He stopped me, and talked to me, and heard me out. I understand that you have hard feelings against him, and I’m not telling you not to. But, personally, Hale gave me the light that I needed when I needed it.” 

Cassian looked back up to the cross, just as the sun shone through the glass, brightening its colors and the sanctuary around them. “I don’t like who I am.”

Nesta nodded, then quietly said, “Look for the light. Don’t push it away.”

~~~

Rhysand hated the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach as he knocked on the door of his own home. When no one answered, he pushed it open. “Hello? Anyone home?” 

“Rhys?”

He spun around, almost losing his balance.

Reina was walking toward him, eyes wide and red-rimmed.

“You okay?” He asked, but she was running to him, arms wide as she wrapped him in a hug.

“I’ve missed you,” she sobbed, wiping her eyes against the front of his shirt. 

“I’ve missed you, too,” he said, holding her near. “Where’s mom?”

A crash came from down the hall, and Reina winced.

Rhysand didn’t wait for an explanation. He hurried down the hall until he found himself standing in the doorway of the study. His mother was lying on the floor, clutching her face, his father standing above her. 

He wanted to say something. He wanted to scream, wanted to yell, but nothing came out. His body shook as his mind reeled.

“Rhysand?” his father crooned, as if the scene he had laid out wasn’t atrocious. “What a nice surprise.” He surveyed Rhysand’s current state before adding, “Ah, yes, I heard you had gotten yourself into some trouble.”

Rhysand blinked. “Are...I…”

Alastair clicked his tongue. “You never could get your words out. A weakness.”

Rhysand’s mother pushed herself up, locking eyes with Rhysand for the first time since he entered. Her eyes, the same eyes that reflected his own, were lined with tears.

“Come on, mom,” Rhysand said. “We’re leaving.” 

She didn’t move.

“Rhys,” Reina whispered. “Come on.”

“No,” Rhys snapped. “No, I’m not going anywhere. Not without you and mom.”

Rhysand’s father looked as if nothing was amiss as he took a step forward. Rhysand did not move, did not retract his gaze. 

“Your mom and sister aren’t going anywhere,” his father began. “The only one going anywhere is you. You don’t live here anymore. You’re not welcome here anymore. Go, Rhysand.”

“Go?” Rhysand repeated. “Who the fuck do you think you a-”

His father reached forward and grabbed Rhysand’s collar with one tight fist. Rhysand’s mouth snapped shut, quickly.

“You will leave, and you will go home, and you will leave us alone. Is that understood?” he asked, his voice quiet but brutal. 

Rhysand said nothing. A word didn’t leave his mouth until his father let go of his collar and took a step back. 

Rhysand’s mother quickly lowered her gaze, as did Reina.

They lived in fear. Fear of the man before them.

Rhysand took a step back toward the doorway, but before he left, he stopped and shook his head. “You know, when I was little, I wanted to be just like you. You were my hero. Now, the thought of me ending up like my father is a nightmare. You’re cruel, a monster. You don’t deserve all of this, the life people believe you have. You don’t deserve any of it. You don’t deserve anything.”

A conniving smile twisted his father’s mouth. “Spoken like a true bastard.”

Rhysand laughed - a low, shaky, humorless laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Leave,” his father repeated. “Go home.”

“We’re okay,” his mother smiled, still from her place on the floor. “Really. Go home. We’re okay.”

Reina hesitated, but then she nodded in agreement.

Rhysand looked back to his father, jaw locked. “You’re going to get what you deserve. Soon.”

He simply smiled. “It was good to see you, son.”

“Burn in Hell,” Rhysand spat through gritted teeth. 

His father’s grinned widened. “I’ll see you there.”

With that, he pushed Rhysand out of the study and slammed the door shut behind him, his sister and mother inside alongside him. Rhysand stared at the dark slab of wood before pounding his fist against it. And when that did no good, he left.

~~~~

Nesta exited onto the back porch to find Feyre and Elain already huddled together on top of a blanket in the grass beyond.

“It’s about time!” Elain hollered. “We were missing a sister!”

With a sigh, Nesta meandered down the porch stairs, onto the soft Autumn grass. She had always loved the feeling of grass between her bare toes, even if the night chill was growing colder.

She plopped down next to Feyre, resting her folded hands behind her head.

The Velaris starlight was breathtaking. Nesta could believe that there was no other night sky in the world like it.

“Is dad home yet?” Feyre asked.

Nesta shook her head. “Not yet.”

“I’ll take that as a good sign,” Elain grinned.

It was his first night out on a date in years. He had only gone on a handful since their mother’s death, and he had hated all of them, without hesitation. But, a waitress at the diner he liked to eat breakfast at kept asking him for a dinner, and he had eventually said yes, leaving the girls to have a night to themselves.

“How’s Rhysand?” Nesta asked, glancing sideways at Feyre.

“He’s doing well,” she said, thoughtfully. “Itching to be more active, but he’s getting stronger.”

“Azriel says the same,” Elain said. “He finds Rhys doing squats every morning when he wakes.”

Feyre chuckled. “Sounds right. And what of you and Azriel?”

“We have settled on tomorrow night for our date,” she crooned. “He’ll pick me up at seven and I’ll look fabulous.”

Nesta was almost surprised by the chuckle that shook her frail body. “Of course. And then what? A goodnight kiss?”

Elain made a noise that was half embarrassment, half pure joy. “Maybe. Maybe something more.”

Feyre howled, shoving on Elain’s shoulder as Nesta grinned.

It had been so long since Nesta had felt such joy. They had been through their hardships together, but there was nothing like spending alone time with her sisters.

They fell into a humored silence as they watched the stars twinkle above. 

Nesta almost felt at peace. At least, until Elain asked, “Have you talked to Tomas since you’ve been home?”

She must have known it was a fragile topic because the question was quiet, hesitant.

But Nesta closed her eyes as she said, “No. He texted for the first few days after I left, but I never replied. It seems he took the hint.” I hope, she added, silently.

“You can talk to us,” Feyre said. “You do know that, right?”

Nesta did know that, but it wasn’t that easy. She had never talked about Tomas, about who he truly was, to anyone. Not even Hale, not in its entirety. She hated Tomas, loathed him. For years, she was a slave to him. Yet, the moment she opened up about it… it was then that it became real. But she didn’t want it to be real. She wanted the years that she had spent with Tomas to be a bad dream, a horrible nightmare.

But it wasn’t.

It was real.

It had all been real.

She had danced with the devil for two years, but she had survived.

“He was kind to me, at first,” she began, and when she spoke, she surprised herself. Her voice sounded distant, foreign, but she continued. “Then, when he got comfortable, that kindness faded.”

Nesta’s voice became lost, but Elain and Feyre did not push. They waited. Listened. They let her take her time. 

“He abused me,” she confessed, quietly. “Sexually. Verbally. Physically. I wanted to get away, but I couldn’t. For a while, I thought I deserved him, everything he did to me. But then, one day, I realized that he was the one that was making me believe that. I left. I had to get away from him. But, now, I don’t remember who I was before him.”

The words spilled out of her, as if she didn’t speak them quickly enough, she would have lost her courage to do so. 

At first, neither Feyre nor Elain said a word. Then, Feyre took her hand while Elain, on Feyre’s other side, whispered, “You are loved. That’s who you were before him, and that’s who you are now, Nesta. Everything else will come to you, but you must know, that you are loved.”

Feyre squeezed her hand as if to say, Yes, you are loved.

As Nesta’s eyes closed, she felt completely and utterly peaceful.

And loved.

For the first time in years, Nesta felt truly and unconditionally loved. 

[maevelin]

In your explanation/ rant thing about nessian, you mentioned nesta and cassian showing suicidal tendencies and symptoms of depression. What did you mean by that/ what’s the evidence? (Sorry if this seems a little rude, I agree with everything you said, I’m just curious)

Well everyone interprets the material they read differently. But the way I saw it Cassian in ACoWaR was reckless and was diving into the battlefield with a death wish up to the point where he said to Rhysand that this would be his way to repay Rhysand’s mother for everything she had done for him. And what could be read as heroic in truth was extremely dangerous and a clouded judgment. Cassian is not just a foot soldier or able to heed his personal needs in times of war. He has certain responsibilities. He is a leader.

He is the General Commander of the Night Court’s armies and one of the most powerful Illyrians. In times of war, he needs to keep his cool and make the right decisions from an ice cold perspective and be strategic. To literally wage war. Sentiment alone is not what got him to the position he is in today and the moment he would fall in the battlefield because of a misguided notion of self-sacrifice and because his mental state was not balanced disarray would follow and the armies of the Night Court would get a major hit that could potentially even cost them the war. But Cassian could not see that. He could not even follow Rhysand’s orders to the extent he should have had and he was taking unnecessary risks and put even others in danger.

His emotional world was raging. He was impulsive, unable to remain undetached and unemotional as his rank required and mind you Cassian has had centuries of experience when it comes to this. All his training, all his history, all his experience got sidelined. He was a mess and it almost got him killed.

We have seen Cassian been generally an extrovert but we have also seen more glimpses of him.  We have seen Cassian being quiet. We have seen him personally taking count of the dead in the battlefields and informing their families which of course takes a toll on someone’s soul. We have seen him having low self-esteem issues and considering himself a bastard and coming to terms with that title and all that it means (Rhysand was ready to object to that in ACoMaF and you could see the underlined pain and then you could see the pain when Nesta used that against in him in Wings and Embers ) and he also believes himself to be a charity case (which also culminated in ACoWaR when he talked to Rhysand). When in ACoMaF he was training Feyre you could read between the lines that he had been in her place. He has felt the guilt that comes with killing and with the life they lead. He understands. He feels it. All too well. He observes everyone and is there for everyone because he knows the pain all too well. The way he grew up. The way he led his life. The fact that he is considered a bastard in a lesser species (as everyone that is not High Fae is treated in general). The way many still treat him and frown upon him. All the centuries of battles and blood and survival. He is being called the Prince of Bastards and the Lord of Bloodshed. Those titles have gravity and are not earned -by a freaking deity nonetheless- just so easily or without personal cost that influences the mental state of a person. And Cassian understands death and walks in death and he does not want that for Nesta. Because he knows how traumatizing it can be and how it hurts and what does to a person.

In ACoWaR we have seen him reaching for Nesta because he could not stay away but when she reached for him his jerk reaction was to step back and raise a wall between them. In the same way, he has for centuries entered a dysfunctional sort of emotional triangle between Morrigan and Azriel that is masochistic and sadistic in its core. The boundaries and the lines are blurred and he is having unhealthy responses to any form of attachments.

After Nesta was turned to a High Fae Cassian kept going to her and taking her rejection with hurt and silently because as he said he understood how it was to have something happen to you against your will. He felt Nesta’s pain and respected her reactions despite not respecting her need for a distance and in the meanwhile, Cassian went something extremely traumatic. He had his wings shredded. He was unable to protect Azriel and Nesta. His recovery took time. He was helpless and injured. And acted as if nothing happened. He pushed his own trauma on the side and did not deal with it. As if it didn’t happen. He didn’t talk about it. He did not share his pain. No one spoke of it. A walk in the park really. Right? …Riiiight.

There are layers of loneliness there and of a distance, he creates between himself and the people that care for him. His self-worth is not a concept he believes in and his psychological state that influences his decisions, his actions, his behaviors and his relationships is affected by this.

On the other hand, you have Nesta. That she was ready at the end of it all to become the bait and to sacrifice her life in the war and Cassian followed her blindly. So others could live while they wouldn’t. In the long picture it was a sacrifice that would be worth it but in a personal perspective, you have two damaged people that hurt so much and are ready to put an end to it all so others could live. They do not negotiate with this. There is no one that can reason with them. And in the end, Nesta was ready to stay and die by Cassian’s side than living a life without him.

Nesta that felt less in comparison to all the heroes that surrounded her. That fought to find honor and got inspired by Cassian and Feyre. Nesta that cried because she was unable to save all the children that would be left behind and then despite her closed up personality rose and spoke to the High Lord meeting about those that were unable to help themselves.

Nesta is an introvert. She prefers to stay in her chair in a room filled with shadows and a warm fire and cuddle with a blanket and read books. Books are her escape. Generally speaking, the position of the emissary is not exactly suited for her skills. Nesta is not a diplomat. Her people skills are atrocious. Her words drip vitriol and she is not one for sweet talking or keeping her bitchy attitude under control. She is not a negotiator. In the end of ACoWaR she didn’t even want to attend the council that took place after the war. And yet here is she is. Taking steps forward despite everything that kept her tied back.

Nesta lived her mother’s death. Then her whole life changed and she was unable to fend for herself. She did nothing. She preferred for her family to starve so their father could take charge again but was it just for that? Here we have a woman that is ready to starve and to freeze to death so to force her father to act. A girl that despised her youngest sister for having the energy and the ability to survive, to help the family she couldn’t and the energy to simply wake up in the mornings and even forgive their father and even her. And she expressed all that with abuse and anger. Hurting not only her sister but herself in the process.

A woman that survived sexual assault and didn’t speak of it. That was ready to search for her missing sister beyond the wall knowing that chances were that she would not survive and when she couldn’t go through the wall and remained with her brainwashed family while she remembered everything and could not help her sister. A woman that wanted to travel and read and was unable to do so. A fierce woman that had no options left and her dreams were shuttered.

Yes, Nesta was the older sister but she was still a child when her mother died and their lives changed. Every person handles grief and change differently. Nesta according to Feyre feels everything so much and it hurts so much that she keeps ice and poison on the surface. But if you translate that then you have a person that is unable to communicate her emotions. She does not have social skills. She prefers isolation. She refuses to bond emotionally and uses aggression as a shield. A person that keeps others at a distance. That does not connect. That is afraid of life when she has to survive in harsh conditions and then instinctually shuts down. A woman that does not express her emotions..or she can’t. Attachments hurt her so she prefers to form none. She keeps to herself. She is emotionally blocked but her mind works overtime. She can barely handle her thoughts and her emotions without causing damage to others and herself. A woman that is afraid of her own feelings and sees the world for what it is and cannot get in sync with it.

A person that feels so much that it hurts and then is unable to function normally. When the King of Hybern threw her in the Cauldron she fought and changed but despised that change and then she saw that Elain was broken beyond comprehension and guilt followed. Guilt for her surviving the Cauldron while Elain broke. Self-loathing followed. And until Feyre returned to the Night Court Nesta rose her walls as high as they would go (which made Elain’s situation and her own far worse) and it was her choice to not reach out to anyone and her response to all this trauma was to stay between four walls and to not ask for help. Not for herself. Not for her sister. She did not trust anyone. She did not connect with anyone. She remained closed off and silent. She only reached out to Feyre because she was her sister and her family and that was a dysfunctional reaction also. It took heartbreaking event after event for Nesta to even reveal that she had a deep fear of bathtubs. Imagine the fear, the pain, the depression. Imagine having all choices taken away from you. To the point of being unable to function in your everyday life. To the point of using buckets to wash yourself. A girl that feels uncomfortable wearing pants and uncomfortable in her own skin in general. Imagine a girl that is also afraid of intimacy because she was sexually assaulted.

And when Feyre went into her mind the darkness she faced was so deep and so dark that she had to find a way to ground Nesta to reality in order to simply bring her back and not have her lock herself in that darkness.

And then when everything came to an end she had to face the death of her father. Of a father, she despised for years because she loved him and hated him for not being the father he should have been for her. Because Nesta lost her mother to death and then she lost the father that she knew because he changed. And then he died in front of her and she was unable to help him. He died in front of her and for her. He became the father she remembered and loved and could not get him back again. Imagine the guilt and the pain. More guilt because in comparison to her sisters she had not shown any forgiveness or gentleness to her father for years and has kept him at an arm’s length. And then when everyone celebrated their victory and took a breath of life she withdrew again and rose her walls.

So yeah. I would say that both Cassian and Nesta are suffering from PTSD and show depression symptoms. And suicidal tendencies too. Along with their homicidal anyway lol.

Or at least this is how I see it and the impression I got from these characters in the trilogy.

[fanfics-await-you]

Please Don’t (Part 2)

Pairing: Cassian Andor x Reader

Summary: Cassian and you are on a mission. Things go horribly, horribly wrong.

Tags: angst (i’m sorry(not really, you nerds love it), injury, language

Word Count: 1,536

Part 1

K2’s voice occasionally breaks the quiet but his words are falling on numb ears; the noise is there but the speech has no meaning. You are far too focused on the rise of Cassian’s chest and his heartbeat beneath your fingers. Little be little, like the tide washing away sand, it is slowing and you can feel yourself breaking down. Cassian is slipping, and there is nothing you can do but watch him die.

“Please don’t leave me, Cassian,” your voice is cracking now.

He has lost consciousness for the most part, but the grip on your hand does twitch slightly. Your tears are less violent than they were, but they are constant and your collar is soaked. You have run out of prayers and faith, and all you’re left with is blood.

You lower your head to his chest and let out a sob. It chokes out of your throat. You have fought the good fight for your whole adult life, and you had accepted a long time ago that sacrifice was a part of that, but you would not accept this. You would not lose Cassian. This was the line you drew in the sand; this was the point that you could not return from.

“Please, you’ve got to hold on. You’re my best friend.You’ve been a part of my life for so long, I don’t know how to live without you.”

The sobs clawing from your chest are vicious and increasing in strength. With every beat of his failing heart, Cassian is one breath closer to leaving you and this fact is becoming all too real.

“One minute out from Yavin 4 airspace,” these are the only of K2’s words that get through to you.

You return your attention to Cassian but realise that you’ve lost his heartbeat. It has become so faint that you can’t feel it through his chest anymore. You move your hands to cradle his face and hold his pulse as your whole body shakes. You’re struggling to feel a heartbeat from the trembling of your own hands. He could die any moment and you wouldn’t know until his body cooled.

“Please don’t go. Please. Please.”

There is no response. No shudder, no tic, nothing to tell you that he’s still alive. The swell of his chest is weak, and his breaths rattle from deep in his throat.

“This is all my fault. I’m so sorry. I never wanted to do anything to hurt you. I- I- I love you, Cassian.”

He doesn’t stir.

“I’m a coward, and I know I should’ve said something before this, but stay, and I’ll prove it to you every day. Even if you don’t love me back, it won’t matter. Just- just, stay.”

Your words are almost incoherent between your bawling and your fights for breath. Your desperate promises and pleas are pouring from the part of your soul that you’ve been ignoring and denying for months. You have loved him for too long and it is breaking your heart to realise that Cassian may never know this.

“So, I’m begging you. Please don’t leave me. It’s always-“

The words are stolen by the jump from hyperspeed and your own grief. You are shaking yourself to pieces. Your airway is so constricted that your gasps are beginning to wheeze. Calls are coming through the radio that vaguely sound like help but you don’t know anymore. You’re not even sure that he’s still here. So gathering everything that you have left, you curl your hands in Cassian’s hair and rest your forehead against his.

“It’s always been you, Cassian. Please, it’s always been you.”

It becomes a mantra.

Always, always, always, always, always.

You feel yourself being picked up and instantly lash out. You will not leave him; not now, not ever.

“Y/N, please. There is nothing more you can do to help him,” K2’s tone is carefully flat.

You are hanging in the air, tear streaming down your face, helpless as you watch medics rush Cassian away.

You don’t think you’re ever going to see him again. Not really.

———

Whether he lives or dies is up to Cassian now. The doctors say that they have done what they can but that sometimes, time is the only thing that will tell. He could crash at any moment, and that would be the end.

You have not left his side since the nurses let you in. You have given numerous mission reports, and dismissed multiple attempts to examine you, from his bedside. (In his favour, K2 has been there as long as you.)

Everyone seems shaken that the mighty Captain Andor, hero of Scarif, has done something as human as get shot. Dozens of well-wishers for you and Cassian alike flood in every day, but you are just tired. You are exhausted; your bones feel heavy and your thoughts are clouded. You spend a lot of time with your head cushioned on Cassian’s bed but sleep remains evasive. You often rest with your eyes closed but the steady beat of the heart rate monitor is a constant.

Somehow you have captured sleep. Nightmares filled with faceless soldiers and endless blaster shots chase around your head. It feels claustrophobic and painfully familiar. You want to wake up but everything is wrong. The world is spinning and there is terrible laughter and you are drowning in sand and bullets. Something touches your hand, something solid and grounding. You focus and the world around you melts to black. You wake up slowly, groggy and heart racing. Some  one is gently parting the hair that frames your face and tucking it behind your ear. For a perfect moment, you allow yourself this comfort before opening your eyes.

The first thing that you notice is that K2 has left the room.

The second is that Cassian is awake and touching your face.

You bolt upright and clasp your hands over your mouth. Your eyes are watering, even threatening to cry, but it doesn’t matter. Cassian is alive, alive, alive, alive. Conscious of his injuries, you hover over him when you throw your arms around his neck. You have considered what you will say to him if he woke countless times- all of this planning goes to waste.

“You bastard, never do that to me again.”

You are crying into his shoulder now as he gingerly places his arms around your waist. He buries his face into your neck, so his words are muffled.

“I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try.”

The guilt comes back like a slap.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t- I would never-“

“Shhh, Y/N, it’s ok. I know. I heard you.”

Your whole body freezes up. Your tears are still falling but your mind has kicked into top gear. In all this empty time, you hadn’t considered that he’d been able to hear you at that point. Your words had been anguished attempts to revive his slipping consciousness and then the final confessions to a dying man. He wasn’t supposed to remember.

“How much?”

“It’s always been you.”

The silence is still. You feel bile churn in your stomach. This was not how this was supposed to go. Cassian would wake up and heal, and life would return to its rhythms. He wasn’t- shit, shit.

You let him go and pull back. Your head is spinning almost as fast as your heart is beating; you can feel your pulse in your fingertips. You take a step back but the tightening of Cassian’s grasp on your waist makes you pause. The air thrums with anticipation but Cassian doesn't say anything for a couple seconds.

He licks his lips once, twice, and then says “Did you mean it?”

You stare at him. Your mouth is dry and he is avoiding your eyes, but Cassian’s voice is steady.

“Y/N, did you mean it?”

He is more insistent now; his voice is demanding the truth that you are all too hesitant to offer. Eventually you swallow your pride, and nod.

“All of it?”

Again, you nod.

“Well thank the Maker.”

Before any more words can be uttered, Cassian’s hands are tugging at your waist. You lose your balance, topple forwards, and are forced to place your hands either side of his face to avoid falling on him. His breath is warm on your lips; you have never been this close to him before. Everything else fades away when he leans forward to kiss you.

Both of you have seen better (cleaner) days, and your face is covered in drying tears, but you wouldn’t change anything. You have wanted to kiss Cassian since he had saved your ass on Jakku months ago, and it was finally happening. He is warm and so alive, and after the last couple of days, this is more than you could have ever hoped for. Too soon, you break it off to breathe again. Carefully, Cassian brings up a hand to cradle your cheek and just slightly, you lean into his touch.  He considers your face for a moment and then smirks a little.

“I meant what I said, Y/N. It’s always been you.”