Paul draws a hand back to cradle Midoriya's jaw, fighting down the urge to hush him with gentle nothings. He can't see his face, but he can imagine it from his anguished voice all too vividly, the particular welling of tears in the face of a challenge that threatens to overwhelm him. Paul knows that one especially keenly. He's brought it out of him too many times himself.
"You did the best that you could, knowing what you knew, believing what you believe," Paul says, stroking his cheek with the pad of his thumb in slow, short passes, his other arm looping further to compensate for the preoccupation of the other, "What else are you meant to do? I know it doesn't feel like enough. It never does."
The ideal of saving everyone is a fearsome taskmaster on Midoriya's back, a drive that brings him to dash himself on insurmountable shoals over and over again. But it's also a drive that has broken through the impossible before, that calls Midoriya to heights of heroism Paul can only stand beneath and marvel at.
"How are you supposed to know if there's no other option if you don't try?" Paul asks, as Sophia arches her back against the warmth of Midoriya's scarred fingers. "Who are you if you don't try to save someone, first, even if it's easier not to? Even if everyone else says no?"
He drops into close, reverent softness for the last question, squeezing his arm around overburdened shoulders: "Isn't that what you've been telling me?"
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"You did the best that you could, knowing what you knew, believing what you believe," Paul says, stroking his cheek with the pad of his thumb in slow, short passes, his other arm looping further to compensate for the preoccupation of the other, "What else are you meant to do? I know it doesn't feel like enough. It never does."
The ideal of saving everyone is a fearsome taskmaster on Midoriya's back, a drive that brings him to dash himself on insurmountable shoals over and over again. But it's also a drive that has broken through the impossible before, that calls Midoriya to heights of heroism Paul can only stand beneath and marvel at.
"How are you supposed to know if there's no other option if you don't try?" Paul asks, as Sophia arches her back against the warmth of Midoriya's scarred fingers. "Who are you if you don't try to save someone, first, even if it's easier not to? Even if everyone else says no?"
He drops into close, reverent softness for the last question, squeezing his arm around overburdened shoulders: "Isn't that what you've been telling me?"