"It doesn't matter who I am." Your voice reassures, guiding him away from the mirror. Again, he insists you're not there. Again, he watched his reflection, his dull eyes meeting his own. Just his.

Even knowing he's alone, he let's you guide him away. Falls into the illusion you truly are there, even if he can't even feel your hands on him. Meets your eyes as if you're truly a person who'd willingly come to live with him, someone who'd willingly touch a disfigured, broken man with such fondness.

"I'm here for you, Nikto. See? I'm real." You add, earning a soft look in his eye. While it's just his damaged brain playing tricks on him, presenting him an oasis of a mirage, he accepts it. Brings his hand up to cup your face, almost craving touching you.