Well. It sure wasn't just the drugs. It's an issue Drake can actually relate to personally. He huffs, the sound vaguely like an aborted laugh, but not a happy sound. Should Klaus open his eyes Drake isn't watching him anymore, his gaze now directed at the art on the living room wall, visible from where they are in the kitchen.

"Go figure, I've kinda been there too. It's a shitty thing to have in common and I wasn't even high, just... miserable and lonely, and making bad decisions all on my own. You're right, it did make things worse."

He remembers that day with Rita, both of them upset and vulnerable about different things, hoping to take comfort in each other. He remembers just how terribly it didn't work. Sure, the sex was great. Distracting, for awhile. But after? When she'd left and he was alone in the bedroom he'd used to share with a partner, reminders of whom were still everywhere? It had just felt hollow, like something had been ripped out of him and that space left empty. Eventually that kind of pain fades and you're able to move on, but if you're not ready yet it's just a giant mistake. Yeah. He gets it.

"It's not cheating, Klaus. It's that being with anyone else just reminds you of what you've lost. It makes things hurt more."