"I am sorry for the trouble," he says anyway in a thick and slightly rueful voice. It wasn't what he expected. Midoriya accepts his own folly in it, but he doesn't dwell on it. One For All really is uncharted territory. He just wanted to know, in a lonely moment, what he missed out on--what other people have that he can't have.

He shifts and attempts to sit up more properly within Paul's arm. He can't say he agrees with Paul's assessment, but he does accept his sentiment. It does comfort him enough to mirror Paul with his own arm slipping around him. The heightened sensations of fabric, warmth, and the shape of his friend are a balm. Even the coolness of his tears is soothing, and he forgets to wipe them--not that he was ever particularly ashamed.

"What have you heard? What things?" he murmurs, looking at him with hazy disquiet.