The past can't be erased, but the future can be better--yes, even for those who can see it. Midoriya will do his best to protect Paul's. He gathers the pieces of himself that had shaken loose.

"The second..." he repeats, to ground himself. This one was meant, today, to be delivered as casually as Paul's lie wanted to be. Midoriya can see this won't be the case now. He's without certain pieces of his armor. He dearly hopes Paul won't connect the first favor with what lies beneath the second. He cradles his tea but doesn't drink.

"I've been thinking I want to be more careful about my work. I don't have the support I do back in my world. I have to protect my friends from anyone who might come after them. So, if you can, please don't tell people about our friendship. Those who already know are fine, and those you trust. Just be careful who else you talk to."

He can't see the future, but he can guess. He can gently hold the severed strings of connection he would have had through Paul and everyone else he is asking this favor of. People he will never meet, except maybe as simply a Hero one knows of. And in return, Midoriya will have to speak only casually about those he cares deeply for. This may not even be a permanent measure, but for someone who grew up with no friends and who treasures the ones he has now, it's a kind of torture.