"I guess." He mumbles, taking another bite of his food. But it feels like so much more than 'we don't do Thanksgiving', especially with words like 'lose touch' and 'scatter' thrown into the explanation. Like once they leave the Academy, they have nothing left to hold them together. He blinks back the tears that try to spill and is just glad that, for once, they don't spill in spite of him when he tries.

He gives a tired, sad quirk of his lips that doesn't really quite make its way to becoming a true smile at the squeeze on his neck again. He appreciates everything he's done- is doing- right now, even if a lot of it feels too heavy, too big to hold.

A silence that he hates--because Klaus hates most, if not all, silences--draws on for several long, intertwined moments. Mostly, he focuses on eating and at least that gives him a reason not to be talking, which he can deal with better than being quiet for the sake of it. But eventually, he has to say something, anything at all, to fill it-- even if he knows the question resting on the edge of his tongue is not going to do anything to make this conversation lighter or smaller.

With his forehead resting in the hollow of his fingers--elbows propped on the table, fingers laced, thumbs almost steepled on either of his temple--Klaus tilts his head to the side to give his doppelganger a sidelong glance, chewing on his lip before finally trying to speak. "You said...that eventually you kind of... stopped caring if you died, right? Does- does that mean... I mean--" His haze drops and his palms press against his eyes.

How do you actively ask someone if they're suicidal?