[Midoriya sits down on the floor, teary-eyed and resolute, committing himself to self-destruction. Kaworu drifts over to him with a velvet, razor-lined tongue, dreamily damning himself alongside him. Paul watches it all unfold with wide eyes, a bleak event horizon of obliteration approaching that he doesn't need his prescience to see.

Leaving Midoriya here with Kaworu like this would destabilize the already tenuous situation under this roof in days, if not hours. Midoriya would impale himself on God's splintered patience, and Kaworu's horror would destroy him not long after, one way or another. The attempt to pull one person from this wreckage ending with two left in it is an unacceptable end.

Paul takes another step into the room, and he thinks about Midoriya never wants him to hold back during a fight, how Kaworu wants him to see him as capable and strong. He thinks, already, that he's sorry. He doesn't think about whether they will forgive him.]

Kaworu. He doesn't want you. He didn't want any of us. He wants shadows he can paint ghosts over. Izuku-kun does. He gave his blood for you to bring you back, and he was only gone to keep you safe. You know that.

[Where Midoriya is raw and Kaworu is abstract, Paul is controlled. The dullness has left him, replaced with heated clarity. He looks between them as he speaks.]

Izuku-kun, staying here doesn't keep Kaworu safe. It only gives him another thing to hold over his head. Over mine. [There is a ripple of fear there, at the edges.] He stopped you on the ship. He could do it again. He could do worse, and Kaworu would blame himself for all of it.

If you stay here, if either of you stay here, it protects no one. Not each other, not yourselves.

And if you stay here, so will I. [His voice drops, but his gaze doesn't.] Neither of you want that.