That look, so apprehensive and suddenly doubting the validity of his own story to the medical team earlier, makes his stomach flip. The fumbled words after only make the sticky feeling of shame so much worse. "No. NO! I didn't mean t- It wasn't like tha- I don't wanna die!" He curls in on himself again, hands over his face.

It's so easy, so, so incredibly easy to see why anyone would ever even make an assumption like that, how easy-believable and possible it seemed to be, and maybe that's what's even more upsetting about having it not-quite-but-close-to thrown at him like that. He hasn't gotten quite to the level of traumatized and numb that some of the other older Klauses seem to have gotten at some point; he hasn't had that deep-inner conversation with himself that he isn't seeking death, but he isn't so sure it matters to him if it happens, either. So the idea of it, at all, terrifies him.

However, breakdown aside, he lifts up to listen to the story the older man has to tell him. He's... not sure he meant to say that middle part, exactly, about how amazing heroin was. But he pushes that thought aside when he continues and points out that he overdosed the second time he used it. A testimonial with real power, if for nothing else other than it's coming from him. A potential very real future version of himself. "Really? That recent?"