He takes a few, stuttering breaths when he's told to listen, lifts his head when Klaus' fingers are around his wrists again, still looking quite the broken mess for all the good this conversation seems to be doing him at all. A set of fresh tears track down his face as he listens, just like he was asked to. "It's okay?" He echoes, a frown wrinkling his features. "Wha- what does that even mean-- it's okay? How is that ever okay, Klaus?! I- what are you even saying- it- it's-- just... normal now?" He knew the older versions of him were... considerably more wrecked than he is, if only because they are older and more down-trodden by the world at large, but... to think he could ever, ever, ever just normalize those kind of thoughts might be just as scary as realizing how close he'd really come to dying tonight.
"No... not really? I haven't been to rehab." Though it was all, clearly, becoming a much deeper problem than he was ready and willing to admit to, it was still sort of in a realm of fun-party-time than something he felt he needed to function. Mostly.
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"No... not really? I haven't been to rehab." Though it was all, clearly, becoming a much deeper problem than he was ready and willing to admit to, it was still sort of in a realm of fun-party-time than something he felt he needed to function. Mostly.