~+ 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐀𝐭 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨'𝐬 +~

ᥴһᥲ⍴𝗍ᥱr 1

~~~ Description ~~~

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What happens when Bakugo blurts out he's fruity as a fruit salad 💅🏽🏳️‍🌈 to his mum and dating someone when?

That's not true : he is fruity, just single as a Pringle

What happens when he convinces someone he barley knows to spend Christmas with him and his family?

Will feelings blossom?

Or

Will it remain platonic?

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~~~ Present ~~~

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Living in the dorms of a college can get pretty stressful, especially with the friend groups who are always in the wrong dorm. Todoroki Shoto, one of the highest students in his class had the luck of dorming with his best friend since high school, Kirishima Eijirou.

When the two started college the redhead became friends with a very bubbly pink-haired girl, a dead straight black-haired male, an electric blonde and a very loud and aggressive ash blonde.

Shoto didn't know the group overly well but they were acquaintances in a sense, sometimes Kirishima offered the split red and white-haired male to come along, but he always declined as he didn't want to intrude.

He was known to many as the quiet boy in the back, who doesn't interact with many people as much as the other extroverts in his classes, he liked to stick to himself and get his work done on time. Of course, when he's comfortable, enough he'll open up to Kirishima and show his extroverted side.

Bakugo wasn't the type to have friends with such high social skills and a means to be positive, yet here he was at his dream college UA studying business, friends with the most hyperactive, children like adults who are all in for sugar.

He didn't know what drove them to him, but he doesn't regret whatever he did. He enjoyed his group of friends, (not that he would ever tell them), he was the aggressive ash-blonde whose hair stands on ends and always speaks violently, but he wasn't as bad as he used to be.

Unfortunately, today wasn't his day, he stormed out of his dorm room, slamming it behind him as he marched to one room, in particular, a certain redhead. Eijirou was a close friend of his, and he told him pretty much everything, but once again, today wasn't his day.

He slammed open the door, swinging it shut behind him, "Shitty hair I fucked up big time! I have no idea what the fuck I–," he paused halfway through his rant as he saw in the small living room a head of red and white hair staring back at him, one eyebrow raised as he held a novel in his hand. He let out a heavy sigh, ''where's shitty hair?" he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

"Out," was all he heard escape the monotoned male he barely knew, just that he was an antisocial man who lacked any facial expressions and that he looks like the fuckin Canadian flag.

"Out where?" he asked, folding his arms harshly across his chest as he tapped his foot lightly, the anticipation to get what he wanted to rant about of his chest and how he's fucked.