He thought Paul might look at him like that, like he has the answers. He doesn't want him to. He doesn't want him to quote philosophy like Midoriya sometimes quotes All Might. Not yet, even if the words are apt and right and true. Midoriya waits. He grew up around people (one person) who refused offered comfort. Other people he knows are less extreme in this, but sometimes they need a few moments alone to settle.

Midoriya doesn't read the note, though he knows which it is for its distinctive single line compared to lengthy others. It has drawn his eye before. Instead he reads Kaworu's silence accompanied by the soft crinkle of paper. Only when it and Paul's words smooth away does he approach. He stops where Paul is.

("...it's to kill Angels," Kaworu had said matter-of-factly of a giant robot--a war machine--weeks ago, in the same way he explained his upbringing to Midoriya in December as they healed in the relative safety of natural hot springs.)

Kaworu doesn't need to prove anything, least of all his conviction or all-too-human pain of loss. Iskierka told Midoriya that Kaworu is part of a flock.

"I'm trying to say you're not alone," he says lowly. "We're here."

His sleeve rustles softly as he holds his scarred hand out to Kaworu palm up.