Nayoung's not even finished kicking her sneakers off when Minkyung hits her with the ever-so-predictable, ''did you remember to eat today?'' Her tone equal parts considerate and condescending.

But Nayoung just finished her patient rounds, in ER this time, on a 12-hour night shift. And Minkyung doesn't even have work today because she picked up someone else's shift earlier that week because of course she did, because she's Kim Minkyung.  It's safe to say that Nayoung's doesn't feel like appreciating Minkyung's concern right now.

''If by eat you mean two aspirins and a Coke, then yes I did remember to eat lunch.'' She didn't even bother lying about having breakfast this time. The hospital coffee doesn't deserve to be called coffee, let alone an adequate breakfast.

''Okay so no, you didn't eat breakfast or lunch.'' Minkyung leads Nayoung into the kitchen. She opens her pantry, starts rifling through the contents. ''Let's see, there's ramen but that's probably the only food you've actually eaten in the past two weeks. Also a few packets of instant mashed potatoes. How about some soup? I can heat up some in the microwave if you want. I've got vegetable medley or beef stew or chicken noodle--''

''I didn't come here to be babied,'' Nayoung snaps. ''If I wanted to be mothered I would've just driven straight home and called my actual mom.''

Minkyung closed her eyes and slowly exhaled, blood pressure lowering only slightly. She's learned over the years to take the whole 'mom-friend' title in stride. But only Nayoung can make 'mom friend' sound like it's something disgusting and wrong. Like an ax murderer. Who is also into cannibalism. She's not going to apologize for wanting to be a caring friend and a welcoming host. Minkyung's too proud and Nayoung's not exactly the forgiving type.

She sighs in resignation. ''Then why are you here, Nayoung? You're the one who texted and asked to come over.''  

''Don't play dumb,'' Nayoung scoffs. ''You know exactly why I'm here.''

Nayoung's actually right (and her smug face is proof that she knows she's right) but Minkyung would rather stab herself in the kidney than admit that out loud. 

''Well, maybe I'm not in the mood to  a ing corpse today.'' 

''If you want to call yourself a necrophiliac, I won't stop you''   Nayoung retorts, clearly amused by Minkyung's newfound hostility. ''But we both know my body makes you feel things. And disgust definitely isn't one of them.''

She then sheds her scrubs without ceremony, tossing them onto the floor somewhere. Nayoung now stands before Minkyung in a fitted white tee, white cotton , and white crew socks. Her collarbones are peeking out from the neckline, proud and prominent. The shirt accentuates her slight shoulders and thin wiry arms. Her legs, long and skinny and knobbled-kneed, on full display. 

Nayoung's natural tan has faded and paled from lack of sun and sleep. She practically glows underneath the apartment's awful lighting. She looks downright ethereal. Minkyung thinks Nayoung looks like an angel. 

Minkyung always thought Nayoung was pretty, all throughout college. But maybe because they're in medical school now and Nayoung's actually showing signs that she's an actual human and cracking under pressure and is two steps away from having a breakdown, Minkyung thinks Nayoung's never looked better. There's a special sort of irony in how those who study (and practice) medicine are so willing to ruin their own bodies while telling everyone else that they need to take better care of theirs. As if they're too good to follow their own advice. It's more self-serving than sacrificial, really.

Nayoung's eyes are pitch black and tinted even darker from the bluish shadows underneath. (Minkyung wants to fall into them). Her cheeks are sunken and her cheekbones seem sharp enough to cut Minkyung's fingers if she touched them. (Minkyung would like to try). Her nervous habit of gnawing at her lips has left them chapped and dry and close to bleeding. (Minkyung thinks that makes them look all the more inviting). 

''What you think, Minky?'' Nayoung teases. A stupid smirk on her stupid pretty face. ''Would you like to this pretty corpse?''

God, yes.

Minkyung surges forward, clutching at narrow hips and pins Nayoung against the kitchen counter. Cold hands creep underneath that boring white shirt and travel up bony sides. Nayoung whines at the sensation. But it's Minkyung that ing groans when she reaches Nayoung's ribcage. She lightly scratches at the skin with blunt nails. And presses her fingertips into the little spaces in between each rib as if they were piano keys.

Minkyung's suddenly yanked forward by the collar of her shirt. And Nayoung's lips are immediately on her's, their mouths desperately connecting and Nayoung's literally falls open with a sigh. The sound was unexpectedly soft and sweet and might've made Minkyung melt a little if she wasn't busy slipping her tongue past Nayoung's lips. Nayoung tastes of Coca-Cola and cheap coffee, cinnamon sugar and cherry cough drops. Bitter, bad decisions. Sweet cravings, addictions.

How strange it is, that at this moment Nayoung looks so close to death yet Minkyung has never felt more alive.