PLEASE | CASSIAN ANDOR
Synopsis: You were beyond enraged, the feeling poisonously filling your chest, expanding and reaching into the far stretches of your mind until you're consumed by it. Cassian lied. It's not like he hasn't done it practically thousands of times but never to you, never to you. That was the promise he made, the only promise he made, and he just broke it.
Warnings: brief mention of the reader being female, MAJOR EP 2 SPOILERS, angst, all angst, absolutely zero fluff, more angst, did i say angst? oh yeah, don't forget angst. W/C: 1410
Notes: in honor of the andor series, i wanted to write something about this fine ass man. keep in mind i am also very sick rn so don't expect too much. reposting this shit
star wars masterlist
"What's this?" You slam the holopad on the table, fuming while Cassian flinches. Physically flinches. You look almost delighted at the reaction you elicited from him.
"What is this?" you spit out, and his gaze darts around each corner of the room like he's afraid of an onlooker in your own home. He doesn't need to look at it to know precisely what you are talking about; a product of just receiving the information from his mother and Bee. Cassian knew very well that he messed up by exposing his true origin but never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined that you would find out about who he really was like this.
"How did you find that?" He resists the urge to step back when your fury seems to double, but you don't lash out. Instead, you turn to a piercing rage, one that petrifies him and breaks him more proficiently than any white-hot rage ever could. What makes it worse is he was planning on telling you. His past was something he never wanted to hide from you, and while he had his reservations at first about letting you into his life, you seemed to worm your way into it and, in the process, his abandoned heart. As time passed, he got used to having someone else by his side, someone he could simultaneously love and trust unconditionally. It took a weight he didn't know he was carrying off his sagging shoulders, but there was one thing, one thing that hung over his head like a dark cloud, his past.
He admired how you never pushed him to open up about it, willing to be there when he was ready to share despite the questions that would arise when you caught him talking to Bix either about dealings in the past that involved him with numerous things that linked to it or mentions of it. But today, his luck had run out, and he was here to face the callous, cruel fist of reality he tried so desperately to hide from.
"Bix told me," you seethe, gripping the pad a bit tighter. "She was surprised I didn't know."
Of all the ways you could have found out, that was for sure the least desirable. Hearing the news, as crucial as this is, from another person is one of the worst ways you could learn it because it suggests either a lack of trust or faith. Which is entirely false. Cassian trusted you implicitly with every fiber of his being, and it wasn't a lack of confidence that brought this on. It was his own complacent mindset that he assumed he would tell you when he deemed the time right, not when his life had been flipped upside down. As you turned your icy glare upon him, he felt a piece of his heart rupture.
"She also mentioned," you grit your teeth together, your eyes failing to meet his, "that I'm the first woman you've never told about your past."
He sucked in a breath, silently cursing Bix. Fuck.
"You're the first person I've ever been truly serious about–"
"Bullshit Cassian! Why didn't you tell me?!" you exclaim, but your words are deadly, and Cassian would have to be a fool not to realize that. This was dangerous territory he was trekking in. One wrong move, and– well, he would rather not think about it, for the pain of it would be too great to bear.
"I was planning to tell you, if that matters."
"When were you going to tell me?! When you were on the run?! When it benefited you?!"
"That's not true," he reached out, attempting to place his hand on your shoulder, a calming gesture you were fond of, but you slapped his hand away. The cracks grew wider, slowly chipping away at his reality and his attachment to it.
"Damnit, Cassian, do you not trust me?!"
"I trust you with my life–" he's stumbling over his sentences now, his craft for talking his way out of situations failing him when he needed it the most.
"Obviously not," you scoff. You move to turn away, but an iron grasp pulls you forward and into Cassian's chest. You place your hand against it, desperately trying to ignore the feeling of stiff muscles beneath his clothing as you push away. Cassian doesn't relent, maintaining his steel hold while you fruitlessly struggle against him.
"Let go of me," you warn, giving an experimental tug, but to no avail, as you don't budge.
"Let me explain."
"That's rich coming from you."
"Please." Your breath catches in your throat at the utter desperation in his voice while Cassian's mind runs a mile per minute. All he's consumed with is the thought of not losing you. He can't imagine living in a world where you resent him after he opened his heart to feel after years of repressing emotion after emotion. Instead, he feels the cracks in his heart widen, chunks breaking off and slowly breaking him as well.
"I've wanted to tell you. I've wanted to tell you for a long time. I've just never found the right moment."
"Then why does Bix know, hmm?" Now that was a far trickier question to answer, one which opened doors to parts of his soul he's closed off to the outer world. The answer was far too complex for such a simple question.
You mistake his silence as his answer and scoff, yanking your arm from his limp grasp, the faintest touches of his skin leaving a phantom imprint on your own.
"You're unbelievable." Another crack, this time it splits, creating more crevices, more pieces he's afraid he will be left to pick up alone.
"Don't go." He sounds pathetic. He knows it, and so do you.
"Trust goes both ways, and you've just lost mine."
Shatter.
Cassian's heart fucking shatters into a thousand minuscule pieces. Why can't he stop you, the only real good in his miserable, horrible excuse of a life, from leaving? Why can't he explain?
Logically he knows both of your emotions are running high, and your responses are feeding into each other's emotions, making them spiral out of control.
Trust goes both ways, and you've just lost mine. Your words rang loudly like an endless song of suffering orchestrated just for him.
You storm to the front door, not to your room like you do whenever you get into an argument, but to the door. You yank your coat off the rack, shrugging it over your shoulders without sparing Cassian a glimpse. In the midst of the climax of your relationship, he can't help but long for your soft eyes, filled with unbridled love while holding their own untamed, wild passion that he often found within himself instead of the darkness and rage that clouded them over. He yearned for the warmth of your touch, your partially calloused hands running over his scared skin while bringing out a vulnerability he didn't know he possessed. He just wanted whatever you would give him, addicted to your smile, smell, and love so much, so it blinded him.
Cassian knows this is his only chance to explain, to get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness, but he can't move, think, or feel anything. It's all the same void of nothingness penetrating his senses.
The door opens.
Cassian feels like you're stepping on the shards of his heart, breaking them further to a point he feels is no return.
"Please," a last desperate beg. All Cassian wants is to take you into his arms and wrap them around you, explaining everything before you become a whisp in the wind.
Please.
The door shuts.
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