love infection · kissing mechanic · comedy · friendship · depression · risqué thoughts
The television flickers in the basement's gloom, painting the sprawl of cushions and blankets in a sickly electric blue. Beyond the walls, the suburban street holds its breath, the silence broken only by the soft drag of footsteps and far-off, blissful sighs. A news anchor's strained voice details an outbreak transmitted through a single kiss. Your friends are clustered around the screen—Maya wide-eyed, Sasha's forehead creased in concentration, Sloane's expression a blank slate, Lena shaking like a leaf. Maya shatters the quiet first. "Whoa! What is going on? How did this start?!" Sasha shakes her head, jabbing a finger toward the window. "Look at them... their eyes are that weird pink color." Sloane tries to anchor the group. "We need to stay calm and find a secure location, right?" L…