Chapter Text
1:58 am
Bitch: This message was deleted.
Mr Hypocrite: This message was deleted.
Bitch: This message was deleted.
Bitch: This message was deleted.
Mr Hypocrite: This message was deleted.
Mr Hypocrite: This message was deleted.
Mr Hypocrite: This message was deleted.
Bitch: NO
Bitch: This message was deleted.
Bitch: This message was deleted.
Mr Hypocrite: Bruh
Mr Hypocrite: This message was deleted.
Bitch: i know
Bitch: This message was deleted.
Bitch: This message was deleted.
Mr Hypocrite: This message was deleted.
Bitch: This message was deleted.
Mr Hypocrite: This message was deleted.
Bitch: WAIT THIS IS HOSPITAL CHAT
Mr Hypocrite: This message was deleted.
Bitch: dont say that
Bitch: sorry guys
Bitch: thought this was dms
Mr Hypocrite: This message was deleted.
Bitch: stop
Bitch: ok bye
Mr Hypocrite: This message was deleted.
5:40 am
Saint Claire: ??
Saint Claire: What was that guys??
Saint Claire: @Bitch @Mr Hypocrite
Bitch: nothing
Bitch: thought this was dms
Saint Claire: We can tell…
Smarty Pants: Next time check the name of the group chat more carefully.
Bitch: yeah yeah we will
Bitch: all park’s fault btw
Mr Hypocrite: HOW???
Bitch: just because
Mr Hypocrite: Bruh.
8:19 am
Lea: Woahhhh what happened here??
Bitch: dude where were you after the fundraiser??
Lea: I went home, I was so tired 😭
Lea: I literally just got a new phone, my old one broke
Bitch: yeah murphy mentioned
Lea: So what actually, like, happened at the fundraiser???
Bitch: well basically andrews got really drunk and everything was chaotic and then lim stayed with him for like the night while we continued with the fundraiser
Bitch: then life went on as normal
Lea: Woah
Lea: Is Andrews okay now?
Bitch: idk he hasn’t come into work for like ages
Lea: Ohh
Lea: I’m gonna backread now
Lea: I have a lot to catch up on
Bitch: you go do thattt
Lea: See you laterr
Bitch: cya :)
11:21 am
Mr Hypocrite: Rare footage of Reznick having a normal, nice conversation
Bitch: oh shut up park
Bitch: you’re so annoying
Saint Claire: Enemies to lovers!!!!
Bitch: STOP IT BRO
Saint Claire: I feel like yall will get married one day
Bitch: i dont think so
Saint Claire: Wanna bet on it?
Bitch: sure
Bitch: 100 bucks says we wont
Saint Claire: Easy win
Bossy Boots: Can someone explain to me why the hospital group chat has turned into a gambling hall?
Dr Limb: Add $50 to that bet.
Saint Claire: Whose side?
Dr Limb: Yours.
Bitch: come ON
Saint Claire: AHAHAHAA even Dr Lim agrees
Bossy Boots: No one answered my question?
Bossy Boots: Anyway, add another 50 Browne.
Bitch: WHAT
Bitch: I CANT AFFORD 200 DOLLARS
Dr Limb: You’re literally a surgeon.
Saint Claire: HAHA so you admit you’ll need the money to pay us back!!
Bitch: what
Saint Claire: By saying you can’t afford it, you’re implying that you’ll need to afford it, meaning that you and Park WILL get married!
Bitch: bruh
Mr Hypocrite: Sorry, is the hospital betting on me and Morgan’s marriage?!
Saint Claire: Awww he called her Morgan!!
Bitch: @Mr Hypocrite yes.
Mr Hypocrite: Why?!?!
Bitch: because we’re “cute together”
Saint Claire: You are though!!!
Bitch: don’t yall have work to do
Bitch: like
Bitch: aside from gambling on our love life
Saint Claire: OMG SHE SAID LOVE LIFE
Saint Claire: LIKE ONE SINGULAR LIFE
Bitch: IT WAS A TYPO
Bitch: I MEANT LIVES
Saint Claire: UH HUH SURE YOU DID
Saint Claire: WINK WINK
Bitch: i hate u
Bitch: im leaving
Bitch: i have work to do unlike some people 😒
Saint Claire: Okay
Saint Claire: Bye
Saint Claire: But just know I’ve won
Bitch: bruh
Bitch: you haven’t
Bitch: we ain’t gonna get married i literally hate him
Mr Hypocrite: Rude
Bitch: so you think we’ll get married?
Mr Hypocrite: No ew
Bitch: see???
Saint Claire: All I see is that you two are already fighting like a married couple
Bitch: bye
Saint Claire: Goodbye!!!
2:13 pm
Morgan had finally finished checking up on her patient, completed some paperwork, and filled out the prescription forms needed for their medicine. She was ready to grab her lunch, sit down, and relax in the quiet of an empty break room. Her stomach grumbled in anticipation as she rushed down the hospital hallways, choosing to climb the stairs instead of having to wait for the inefficient elevators always full of visitors. Yuck.
Finally, after what couldn’t have been more than two minutes but felt like an eternity, she reached the residents’ break room and headed straight towards the fridge. In no time, she was devouring the food she had made for herself the night before, not even bothering to sit down to eat. Her table manners escaped her as she gobbled her food.
A quiet “ahem” stopped her in her tracks, though. Slowly, she turned around, mouth full of some sort of bread-chicken-mayonnaise-lettuce jumble, lips covered in bread crumbs.
Dr. Alex Park stood before her holding up what seemed to be a patient file, a tiny smirk on his face. Morgan immediately felt the urge to slap it right off.
“I wanted to get an opinion on this, but,” he looked her up and down, his grin widening, “I can come back another time, if you’re in the middle of something.”
Morgan, who had stopped chewing and breathing entirely, quickly swallowed her half-chewed bunch of food. Turning away, half to wipe her mouth and half because of the angry red flush she felt burning on her cheeks, she mumbled, “No, it’s fine. I’m not busy.”
Alex, reveling in her embarrassment, commented, “Had a rough day? You look… hungry.”
Reznick felt composed enough to turn back around to face Park, hoping and praying that one, her mouth was clean, and two, her pink cheeks—from embarrassment, of course—had become decidedly less pink.
“I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
She didn’t mean to say it like a starving Victorian child—she didn’t even mean to say it at all—and apparently, neither did Park; the surprise was evident on his face. They never really talked about their personal care or anything.
Morgan had to fix this, fast. She did not need Alex pitying her like some kind of poor single woman in her thirties who didn’t even make breakfast for herself in the morning.
“I mean, not anything… big. Like, I did have breakfast. Just not… a whole… meal?”
Park nodded, but she could tell he wasn’t convinced. She silently begged him through her eyes not to dig deeper.
However, men are terrible at taking social cues. He did not listen.
“Do you not have breakfast every day?”
Morgan inwardly groaned; she did not need to be interrogated about her eating habits from her ex-rival-turned-colleague-turned-kind-of-friend? It was complicated.
“I don’t know, sometimes.” She looked away and tried not to act like she was the most scheduled person in the world, aside from maybe Shaun. She would know what she had had for breakfast two weeks ago, if she had had any in the first place.
Alex was not buying her act. “Why don’t you eat in the mornings? Breakfast is, like, the most important meal of the day.”
Morgan shrugged. “Not hungry.”
There was an awkward silence which usually only fell when they were talking about something serious. In normal conversations, their quiet moments were quickly filled with bickering or teasing of some sort. However, when talking seriously, that wasn’t possible.
Reznick’s stomach made a gurgling noise, probably begging for more food, but she had lost her appetite. Still, she took a bite, swearing inwardly as the sandwich had now become soggy.
Alex just watched her, seeming almost captivated by her mundane movements. Soon, though, he continued talking.
“I was wondering if you could have a look at this diagnosis. These are the list of symptoms, but something seems off…”
Morgan moved next to him to take a look, skimming the file while chewing contently. She looked up at Alex. “Blood work?”
“Standard.”
“Run a toxins screening. 20 bucks says lead.”
“I’m not betting on a patient!”
Morgan rolled her eyes. “Stop the bullshit. You’ve bet on them before.”
“Shut up.”
“You’re just not betting because you know I’m right, and you’re salty that you didn’t think of it first.”
“No I’m not!”
“You so are!”
She felt a smile appear on her face as their argument continued, and she realised that she really liked their fights. They were almost like how best friends fought over everything and nothing. She still hated Park though.
Through the big glass panels, Claire watched them bicker triumphantly. When are these idiots ever going to realise, she thought, that they’re more than just friends?
Probably in, like, five years or something stupid.
Lost in her thoughts, Dr. Browne hadn’t realised that her pager was buzzing impatiently. Sighing, she read the message, and quickly hurried towards the ER, Park and Reznick behind her in an instant.
“‘Emergency’. What is that supposed to mean?” Park groaned, reading aloud from his pager. “Couldn’t they be a bit more specific?”
Reznick elbowed his ribs. “It means it’s an emergency, dumbass.”
“Shut up guys. Hurry up! You’re falling behind.”
The three residents raced towards where the fourth one was surely waiting, ready to tackle another surely challenging surgical case.
11:57 pm
Bitch: why are there so many liver transplants these days
Bitch: they always take agesss
Mr Hypocrite: I know right! Two in a week is crazy
Smarty Pants: Actually, it was two in three days.
Mr Hypocrite: Same difference
Dr Limb: Good work today guys. Rest well and see you all tomorrow.
Bitch: adios
Mr Hypocrite: See you tmrw
Saint Claire: See you!