Midoriya told Paul that once. Hearing a version of it echoed back by this stranger he’s heard so much about, but knows so little of, who looks at him with gentle understanding (because he doesn’t know what Paul has done, that he’s the architect of Izuku’s misery) before he devotes his attention to the wounded hero – it’s almost too much. The feelings he’s been holding down by the throat buck under his grip, and hot citric salt opens on his tongue.
He watches Midoriya bury himself in his folded arms, weeping in a loneliness that is untouched by being around so many people, and he remembers the closed swelter of a tent at the end of the world.
Paul doesn’t say anything as he slides down the truck bed, letting the rattling of the vehicle conceal most of the sound of his movement. Midoriya had been the only one who knew he held back to protect them. Everything Paul had done, and he had told him to go before anyone tried to kill him. He hadn’t listened. He could walk away only so far before he turned back.
He's the last person who should be doing this. There is no one else. He has always been so much like his mother.
He touches Izuku’s shoulder with a delicate lightness, breath stilled in his lungs.
no subject
Midoriya told Paul that once. Hearing a version of it echoed back by this stranger he’s heard so much about, but knows so little of, who looks at him with gentle understanding (because he doesn’t know what Paul has done, that he’s the architect of Izuku’s misery) before he devotes his attention to the wounded hero – it’s almost too much. The feelings he’s been holding down by the throat buck under his grip, and hot citric salt opens on his tongue.
He watches Midoriya bury himself in his folded arms, weeping in a loneliness that is untouched by being around so many people, and he remembers the closed swelter of a tent at the end of the world.
Paul doesn’t say anything as he slides down the truck bed, letting the rattling of the vehicle conceal most of the sound of his movement. Midoriya had been the only one who knew he held back to protect them. Everything Paul had done, and he had told him to go before anyone tried to kill him. He hadn’t listened. He could walk away only so far before he turned back.
He's the last person who should be doing this. There is no one else. He has always been so much like his mother.
He touches Izuku’s shoulder with a delicate lightness, breath stilled in his lungs.