[Klaus watches as the other man leans down to undo his laces, chewing idly at a fingernail, still curled in on himself, making his body as small as possible. When Drake slides further onto the bed, comments that he's hanging in there (not super believable), and puts his arm around Klaus, Klaus lets out a soft, anxious laugh completely devoid of humour.]

Oh right right, yeah, I mean, I've had worse too, I just hate this kind of thing. Darkness. Enclosed spaces. Ghosts. Just, all my favourite things in one place, you know?

[But Drake's arm is warm and heavy around his shoulders, and he shifts over a bit closer, leans his weight against the larger man, and rests his head on the space between his shoulder and chest. Knees still up, he at least stops chewing on his nail and lets his hand rest on Drake's chest, right over his heart so he can feel it beating under his hand.]

I mean, I knew that much. You make a great pillow.