A/N: requested by sadstrarwarsfan14 - hey i think i changed this up a little from your original request but i hope it's ok and you're doing ok :) (EVERYONE, PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS)

Warnings: anorexia, past self harm, swearing, i'm just saying before but I do not mean to be disrespectful at all, and if anything makes you uncomfortable, please let me know

Word count: 1058

Cassian frowns, his lovely face contorting with worry as he scrutinises you, gaze flicking over your expression as if you're the only thing that matters to him. His thumb rubs over your knuckles, where the skin is pulled tight over them, and he half glares into your eyes. Concern radiates off him, and you hate it. You hate the attention he's giving you - you hate the way he cares so much, because he's always there, always kissing the scars on your wrists and stroking your hair as you cry, and Maker knows you don't deserve it.

'Y/N,' he murmurs quietly. 'That's the second time you've fainted today.'

You sit in front of him, your hair falling over your face. You're glad you grew it out recently; it's the only thing hiding you from him right now. You know he'll find out - it's inevitable - he is an intelligence agent, after all, and not many things go unnoticed by him. You're just not sure you'll be able to bear the sheer distress in his eyes when he does find out. Not disappointment, never disappointment. Just sadness and the eyes of a man helping to carry an unbearable weight that doesn't belong to him.

Lying to Cassian never ends well.

You should have known.

But here he kneels anyway, in between your knees, looking up at you, one thumb running back and forth over your scarred knuckles, and you want nothing more than to disappear and make him forget about you, forget that you ever existed. You wish he wouldn't do this to you. You wish he wouldn't do this for you.

'Y/N,' he repeats. 'Please, tell me you've been eating.'

You look away. You can't lie with those soulful brown eyes on you. You can barely stomach your own inadequacy looking at him. You've fucking told him so, and yet he stays, determined that he can fix you - or at least that's what it seems like every time he brings you to the mess hall and sits with you, every time he makes sure you have everything - everything - that you need. You doubt that he can fix you. You're too far gone.

But, broken crayons still colour.

Or that's what Cass tells you when you remind him you're unfixable.

You're not so sure about crayons like you.

Anorexic, they call you. Oh yeah, she's the anorexic one. Why are they still putting her out in the field? Look at her, she's like a skeleton! She'll shatter if you even breathe on her! I bet she can barely carry a blaster.

You know that they don't mean to talk so loud. You know what anorexic means, and you've heard it from the doctors too - worded in a more diplomatic way - but still the same meaning. And yet, you can't look at yourself in the mirror without seeing the pockets of fat around your stomach. Whenever you see your reflection, you see the round curves of your cheeks where the other rebels are sculpted and muscled and -

'You know, you're beautiful. You've always been beautiful, my love.'

'No,' you answer. 'I'm not.'

'Yes, you are,' he replies, and the frustration in his voice is audible.

'I'm not... I'm not like...' You trail off, curling a hand around your stomach as if to shield yourself.

'Y/N!' Cassian bursts out. 'Please! Please eat! I - I can't bear to see you like this! Like you're... you're all skin and bones and I...' He glares at the floor, and your surprised to see tears in his eyes. 'Y/N, your health is in danger if this goes on - it's already in danger, actually. And I - I don't want you to - I can't - I can't lose you like this,' he finishes, voice cracking. 'I can't lose you, Y/N. I can't.'

You look at him, numb. 'I - I don't know why you still want me. I don't know why you ever wanted me.'

'It's always been about what's inside,' he tells you. 'I just want you to be happy. I want you to love you like I do.'

You sigh, hugging yourself. 'You can't fix me, Cass.'

'Broken crayons still - '

'No!' You scream. 'Don't tell me that! Don't think you can fix me! Just go! You can't save me! There's no point trying to get me to eat!'

'I'm not staying because I think you're broken and that you can be fixed,' he whispers. 'I'm staying because I love you, and I don't care if you're broken or not, and I'm not trying to fix you, because I don't think you don't need fixing. You are who you are, and I love you.'

He loves you? He loves you? He loves you? You don't know what to say to that. Your tongue lies in your mouth, useless, and you just stare at him. Slowly, his other words start filtering in, each one being processed and turned over and inspected in your brain.

I don't care if you're broken or not.

You don't need fixing.

You are who you are.

And I love you.

I love you.

A sob squeezes from your throat, and you cover your mouth as your shoulders shake with the force of it. Gently, he pulls you close, one hand rubbing your back, his breath ruffling your hair as he holds you, encircles you with his warmth, his love. Pressing a kiss to the top of your head, he whispers softly.

'You know, there was always something wrong with that analogy. It makes it seem like I care if you're a broken crayon or not. But you're a human, and I don't give a flying fuck if you're broken or not.'

A giggle escapes you. 'So, you're saying that humans still colour?'

He tickles your ribs. 'Don't be smart with me, love.'

'Don't give me such weird analogies, then.'

He laughs, softly kissing your hair again and scooping you up, cuddling you to his chest for a moment before striding towards the door. 'Alright,' he says.

'Where are we going?' You ask.

He looks down at you, his brown eyes serious and hopeful. 'Please eat. One meal? For me?'

You grin. 'Fine. As long as the broken crayons still colour.'

'The humans, actually,' he replies with a smile. 'And remember, we don't give a flying fuck if they're broken or not.'

this did not come out like i wanted it to