Paul's throat bobs. His eyes threaten a certain collapse at their corners, joined by the faint twitch of a muscle working in Paul's jaws. He opens his mouth. He closes it. He steps forward, and without deference or hesitation he pulls Midoriya into a fierce, crushing hug.

"I missed you," Paul says, voice tight and aching. With his eyes closed, there are no tangling hyphae, no skin-breaching fungal scales, no protruding bulbous spore caps. There's just Midoriya, warm and alive and returned.

"I couldn't find you again." He'd looked, with eyes and dreams, but the way closed off before him. "You can come in. Of course you can come in, you - I missed you."

Paul will have to let go of him for that to be possible, which seems unlikely to happen at once. Maybe they'll just stay here like this, threshold bound, in the moment of relief and reprieve. They'll stay here, and Paul won't have to think about the next part, when the guilt will creep back in like poison in his roots.