Another day, another place, and Paul might have mustered up an argument against Midoriya's claim. He'd have pointed out that Midoriya only ever tried to hide from the world for other's safety, as misguided as Corruption may have made him, and that besides - there was no trouble that Paul would not gladly take on for his sake. That this argument would only take them in a circle wouldn't have been lost on him, but he might have made it all the same.

So if there is one slight blessing here, it's that, at last, Paul is too worn down to argue much of anything.

(It's all he can do not to show how much everything hurts, the maelstrom shrieking under his skin. A true burn stops feeling like anything, when it sears deep enough. This never stops. He remembers standing at a door, persuaded not to step through it. He should have stayed on the right side.)

"I don't want to hurt you," he whispers, staring at Midoriya's gloved hands with terrible desire, the nightmare of flames around him flaring hungrily, "I never wanted to hurt you."