He was a man now, but he wasn't acting like it, at least not like the man Izuku thought he would turn out to be. He thought he would be a good man, a decent man, a man who was strong when it counted and could live up to his responsibilities.
Instead he was weak, a man who gave in to his bad habit over and over again.
He was the kind of man who was risking causing pain, heartache and devastation to the people closest to him, the people he loved most in the world. He was the kind of man who went sneaking around under the cover of darkness and moonlight to cheat.
Izuku Midoriya was having a secret affair while being engaged to Uraraka Ochako.
He didn't want to lie or cheat or hurt anyone; but he couldn't seem to stop what he was doing.
He was there now, standing outside her door, letting himself into her penthouse apartment that overlooked the Tokyo skyline because he couldn't stop himself. She was a bad habit, and like most bad habits she was addictive.
She was different and exciting, sexy and addicting and ethereal. She hadn't known him very well during their time at U.A. even though they were in the same class. She had her own group, composed of Toru, Kyoka, Mina, Tsyuu and Ochako. And he had his Dekusquad.
The door closed behind him with a quiet click. The lights were low inside the apartment and there was soft music playing. That didn't necessarily mean she was waiting for him to appear and join her in bed, she liked music and she liked the darkness. She was the one person he knew who really liked the dark. She said you could be anyone or anything you wanted to be in the dark; he only wanted her to be her.
She had laughed lightly when he had told her that, her hand stroking his cheek gently. She had told him he was the sweetest man she had ever met; he had blushed after that.
Sometimes when he was with her he felt like that same boy who had been told for the first time that he could be a Hero by All Might ( his idol ); shy and awkward. Sometimes he felt like a tongue tied teenager she rattled him so much and was so utterly different from the women of his acquaintance.
But he was not that same boy. That boy would not do what he was doing now Izuku was sure of it; in his bones he knew it. He had fallen far from grace where that boy was concerned and his younger self would not recognize his older self.
Izuku dropped his keys on the small glass table in the hallway and followed the music into the spacious living room. She lay there, stretched out across the clean white sofa, her bare feet dangling over the arm and a glass of wine on the table. She didn't lift her head or move in any way but she greeted him warmly.
"Evening, Izuchan ."
"Evening, Momo. " Izuku came around the sofa and stood looking down at her. The curtains had not yet been drawn across the large glass doors of the balcony and the moonlight came in at the window, slanting across the thick, cream carpet to touch gentle fingers to her hair and her face. Her dark eyes gazed up at him framed with thick black lashes; she blinked slowly as though she didn't want to close her eyes even for a fraction of a second when he was stood there.
His eyes travelled over her face from her high cheek bones and slender nose to her full, ripe lips all ready to be kissed. Izuku dropped to one knee beside her and ran a hand through her rich, dark hair. It fell through his fingers like watered silk and those lips turned up slightly at the corners. Izuku touched a finger to her bottom lip, tracing what was full and plump and familiar.
"Try not to think about it," Momo advised, her hand coming up to cup his cheek, her thumb stroking his jaw lightly.
She saw the shadow of guilt in his eyes, she always saw it and it made her heart ache. It shouldn't, Momo knew, she was the other woman, she was not the one he was lying to day after day, night after night. But she was not the one he went home to either; she was the one who had to watch him leave, watch him return to the life he lived without her; a life in the sun, in the daylight hours with laughter and family and friends.
She had once told him she liked the dark, she had told him you could be anyone or anything you wanted to be in the dark. In the dark she could pretend she was the one he went home to.
Izuku closed the gap between them and kissed her; it was an exciting exhilarating kiss and so familiar that it made Izuku ache with both guilt and longing.
He was guilty over Ochako.
He longed for more from Momo.
Her long, elegant fingers always topped with the perfect manicure, curled around the lapels of his jacket and pulled him closer, pulled him down where she could feel the weight of his body on her pressing, her back into the soft cushions of her overly expensive sofa.
It shouldn't hurt to love someone, but it did. It always hurt to love someone who could never completely be yours and Momo had first hand experience of that.
"You're a bad habit you know," Izuku said against her lips.
He felt her smile into the kiss. "You know what they say about bad habits, don't you?"
"No, what?" He sighed softly when long slender legs curled around his waist.
Her voice when she answered him was almost a purr. "They are very hard to break."
Momo grinned and kissed her again, relishing the slightly bitter taste of wine that lingered on her tongue. She was right, Izuku found it utterly impossible to break his Yaoyorozu Momo habit.
Momo knew about bad habits from experience too; Midoriya Izuku was her bad habit.