He tightens his grip in response as Paul does, scars pulling slightly against familiar hilt-callouses. The warning is done. Saying any more would be too much information to be safe. His job is done, and if Paul would like his hand back... Midoriya tends not to keep comfort for himself. He can't smile back, but he can answer numbly,

"I didn't want to take it alone." However inadvisable it all is in retrospect, he was always going to have a safety net somewhere. "I knew I'd be safe with you."

He presses his lips and eyes tight, breathing in. He tries, with the natural cycle of taking good air in and expelling bad, to purge his unease. Something else replaces it. It's all so much, so much, and he's just one person, hardly worthy, carrying the hopes and efforts of several others.

He allows himself a rare, brief indulgence in shackling self-pity. It trickles from his eyes, retraces the wetness on his cheeks, and flows back into his hair. Then his face smooths over, and it passes in the space of a few sighs. His eyes fall open again.

"What was supposed to happen?" he asks in a small voice.