[This is where Paul would have once closed the circuit. Midoriya and Kaworu exchange their affections that are not goodbyes, that cut worse and deeper, and he is no longer here. He is where he went on the beach, where he stood in Lazarus' safehouse, untouchable in the whirring machinations of purpose shorn of feeling.

He holds himself like an atomic core on the criticality threshold, breath clean and even, and all he does is nod to Kaworu, an acknowledgement so passing and light as to become a nonsense, and once again, he leaves him behind - only this time, without guard or shepherd, in the unstained hands of an untrustworthy man. If his face has any expression when he steps from the room back into the hall, he doesn't want to know about it.

(At least Kaworu wasn't sick.)

He doesn't stop moving until the end of the hallway, a distance covered in quick, short steps, his thoughts bearing him along in motion like a current. He stops short there, flexing his hand at his side, and now, finally, he fixes his focus back to Midoriya with a hot electric arc of reckless fervor.]

You don't trust me. [He states a fact; there's nothing more to it.] You're right. But you know that I would do anything to keep either of you safe, and I'm asking you to trust that.

Do you?