Here's To Us [Shourtney]

6. I'm a cake and everyone wants a slice!

Heeey there, you! How are you doing?

First off, I woke up this morning to check this book, which had 500+ reads JUST last night. But now (as of 8 in the evening), it already has a whopping 800+ reads?! Honestly, I was surprised, because I haven't done anything for it over the weekend as I had said I was gonna take off to rest for a while. Thank you to @/pizzaplaceeee on IG as well as @feoneill here! Another would be the post from my Shourtney fan account on Instagram which also reached a huge number of likes, and I guess that's a sign for me to make more Shourtney memes.

But the important thing is: thank you, thank you, THANK YOU SO MUCH! I really appreciate it, even though I'm not that much of a goal-getter kind of person but I do appreciate milestones like these. I write these fanfics for fun, so to see a ton of support behind each chapter really warms my heart. Thank you so much.

Shall we begin? Courtney's POV and see ya!

-/-/-

I keep forgetting I just got married at 24 years old, until of course I remember that today's my birthday.

Waking up, I see Shayne still beside me, but he's just about to take some medicine as I turn to him. "Oh, hey, good morning...," he mumbles before taking his medicine. After that, he sneezes.

"Are you okay?" I ask him, placing the back of my hand against his forehead. "Dude, you're sick. That's weirdly warm."

"Yeah, I dunno," he answers before sniffling. "We had to get into a pool last night at the Goldbergs shoot, so I think majority of us are sick right now."

"Well, have you eaten?"

"Yeah, don't worry about me," he assures me before sneezing again. "I already filed for a sick leave, and Ian approved it. I'll just roll in bed today."

"That seems like something you'd do," I tell him, chuckling. "I think we're out of some meds. I'll buy some more before I get home, okay? Just text me anything you want."

"Okay, thanks," he says before turning to the other side of the bed. "And Courtney?"

"Hm?" I mumble as I stand up and walk towards the bathroom.

"Happy birthday..."

"Thank you, Shayne. Now, go to sleep."

When Shayne falls asleep, I get ready for the day. I know I shouldn't feel bad that the guy I consider one of my closest friends in the universe and legally my husband is sick and cannot celebrate my birthday with me today, but I just do, you know? As I put my makeup on, I glance at Shayne, unconscious as his chest inflates and deflates. I worry for him sometimes, but then I remind myself that, hey, it's just a legal obligation for me to keep him alive until the next year. But this didn't feel like just keeping him alive; this felt like caring for him deeply aside from he's my friend and my co-worker.

Shayne's magical sunny side up eggs with two pieces of cinnamon toast and a singular strip bacon to represent a smiley face are on a plate, and there's even a note. I didn't infect this, it's safe to eat.

"Dummy," I mumble as I get a glass of water and place it beside the plate. I flip over the note and write on it. Don't forget to eat and drink your meds. This is for lunch. I don't think it's infected hee hee

When I leave breakfast-less on my birthday, I take a sigh of slight disappointment and make my way to work. 25 is a turning point, or I think it should be, because as I grow older by the day, I have zero percent of my life fixed.

Tommy gives me a call on my way to work, "Hey, Courtney! Happy birthday. Are you already on your way to the office?"

"Thanks, Tommy," I reply, my smile becoming a frown as I enter the jammed highway. "Are we ever on our way to the office? Still stuck in traffic."