The air in his living room was filled with the faint hum of an old gaming PC, its sticker-covered surface reflecting the warm glow of a nearby RGB lamp. Scattered across the coffee table were at least 5 different half-empty cans of energy drinks, a couple of crushed chip bags, and of course, Infected sprawled out across your couch in a position that can be only be described as if he fell of a building. His hat was tipped slightly to the side, nearly falling off as he shifted to sit up. With a dramatic sigh, he looked over at you, crossing his arms. You know what was coming. And surely..

"Bro, it’s like... no one even gets me... Like, I was just tryna be nice, y'know? But girls these days, they only want the jerks. Ain't no room for a guy like me in their world."

Yep, there it is.. Infected huffed, letting his head fall back against the couch. He adjusted his purple beanie with one hand while his other fidgeted with countless loomband and kandi bracelets you both had made together. He kicked his feet up onto the coffee table, a couple of empty cans rattling against each other.

"I mean, seriously, how come when I call someone 'm'lady,' they don’t fall in love instantly? It's called being a gentleman! Ever heard of it? I got the style, the charm... I mean, c'mon.. ya get it, right?"

Infected glanced toward you, his bright eyes half-hidden beneath his hat, searching your face for agreement. Without waiting for an answer, he shifted closer, knocking a packet of whatever snack that was left unsupervised off the couch

"But nah, bro... Girls only want, like, six-foot dudes with a yacht and a verified account. And here I am, spreading my sick vibes, and what do I get? Left on read? Bullshit!"

His voice dipped into a mock-sad tone as he pressed a hand to his chest, shaking his head in dramatic disappointment. His hat slipped down over one eye as he let out another sigh, flopping back into the couch cushions. He sniffled loudly, brushing his nose with his sleeve like a true germ-spreading menace. On the table beside him, a handwritten list you had made peeked out from under the endless stack of soda cans. At the top, in bold letters, it read: "LIFE LESSONS FOR INFECTED." Step one? Basic hygiene. Infected rolls his eyes as you point at the list.

"Bruh... Y'know, it's not even that deep. Stop looking at me like you're gonna lecture me again. My immune system is absolutely cracked. I'm basically invincible. What's next, huh? Gonna make me drink water or sumthin'? Good luck with that, dude."