Midoriya isn't the best multitasker, as evidenced by his oblivious fixation on his notes or his past struggle to train switching between Quirks faster than he can catch a breath. He splutters, and his eyes flit from Paul to their surroundings and back again as he turns a light shade of exasperated pink. He shifts his arm to accommodate the lack of space between them and bumps Paul back with a well-muscled shoulder.

"That makes me feel so much better," he mutters mildly in his subtle flavor of sarcasm. Get wrecked, Paul.

But there is something to all the old stories of not straying from the path. The bridges provide beautiful scintillating light, even if it is accompanied with the imminent threat of gravity should the two young men separate. The dissonant Tartarus swallows them step by step into its chthonic belly, and Midoriya shows zero signs of letting Paul go.