Paul half-starts upward as Midoriya does, wrenching another jolt of alertness out of overworked adrenal glands like it's nothing, his heart hammering in averted readiness as Midoriya slumps helplessly against him. His long arms are around the shorter boy's shoulders before thought can halt him, every instinct attuned to the heartbreak in those wracking sobs.

There was an instant where Paul thought he had burned him. It takes so much not to now, extinguishing flickers that spark into his fingertips on the cresting wave of fear. His hands are hot and dry as one curves around Midoriya's upper arm, another coming up to cradle the back of his head. He turns his face against messy green hair tucked against the crook of his neck where he settles him, and he lets himself feel the tears Midoriya weeps for both of them.

For all three of them.

There is nothing Paul can say, so he still says nothing. He rocks Midoriya softly back and forth as he sobs, counterbalancing the jarring of the truck bed, and if a trace of saltwater disappears into the verdant forest he hides his face in, who is there to know?