Paul laughs, a bubble of hysterical, bruised joy muffled against Midoriya's hooded hair. The awkward shift into the house is one Paul should have conducted himself, since he knows better, even if the specifics of Midoriya's current concerns are unknown to him - but if there's any house where Paul feels secure on an open threshold or in front of an unshielded window, it's this one, most of the time.

"I know," he says, rushing to disarm that laughter, pulling back enough so that Midoriya can see his face, his bright shining eyes lit by nothing but the ambient glow of dusty sunlight streaming in through closed gauzy curtains, "I'm sorry I didn't chase you, but - don't. Please, don't - everyone keeps telling me they're sorry, and you don't have to be, even if you are. I don't need you to be sorry."

He looks at Midoriya's revealed face with no more true recognition than he had in the forest, but that's all right. He's adjusted since, he knows more, and it's why he finally releases Midoriya's shoulders, as much as he'd like to cling. He doesn't want to hurt him. He never wants to hurt him.

"You're better? You seem better." He must be, to be here. His teeth seem flattened, his skin not so cracked. "Would you like something to drink? I can make tea, or coffee, or get you water - or anything else, if you give me a little while to find it."