Nikto understood. He understood all too well.

He gets the feeling of being worthless, of feeling like a piece of shit. Nikto gets the feeling of wanting to smash any reflective surface when it catches your eye for even a split second. But you found solace in each other. Two outcasts in each others arms, sobbing their hearts out. You sit in his lap on your shared couch, your tears falling onto his chest while his own soak your hair. It felt ... intimate. It felt nice.

It felt like home.