[This feels familiar. A month ago, he’d told Nate nearly the same thing while standing on the theatre’s roof instead of nearly his own. He pulls that certainty to his voice that their friend had so confidently used with him.]

You’re not a bad person, Nicky. You’re no saint and you fuck up because people fuck up, but the fact you care whether you’re a bad person or not means there’s good enough in you to be seen. Other’s have seen it. I see it. Even if you don’t trust yourself with it.

[He shifts only so one of his hands can reach up into Nick’s hair.]

Would you like a list?