Isolation (Shourtney)

Chapter 3

A/N: Australia is currently going back into a more severe isolation/restriction arrangement than we were in March-May because our case numbers are the worse they've ever been, and wow does this fic feel relevant again when I'm editing it! Although I'm personally in a part of Australia with no cases and few restrictions, I currently can't visit my family  (or get my things that I left at their place 8 weeks ago thinking I'd be back soon...) because they're back under restrictions and state borders are closed.

Anyway, on to the story, and let's not get complacent and keep distancing / wearing masks / being covid-safe but looking after mental health while doing so!

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He doesn't spiral when he gets back in his car to drive home. The emptiness in his chest is making its presence more known now he's by himself again, but he fights it out of his mind, trying to focus on the day ahead of him instead. He's going to relax. He's going to feel better. He's going to be kind to himself. And he gets to spend more time with Courtney, which is a genuine mood-booster.

He pauses at his bathroom sink with his clippers and razor resting on the bench, hands pressing against the sink as he finally looks at himself in the mirror. It's a mild improvement on the photo he sent Courtney the previous afternoon – his face is dry, for one – but his eyes are sunken, his face hidden underneath a shadow of unkempt hair and his expression vacant. It would be so easy to give up, to just go back to bed and tell her he's tired and he wants to sleep more but-

She'd be upset with him, he doesn't want to let her down.

He clips his facial hair down to a more manageable length first, pausing after he does to examine whether he wants to leave something there – but after thirty seconds of deliberation he reaches for his shaver, taking it all off. It's gotta go. He just has to feel clean.

"That looks more like the Shayne I recognise," she grins when she answers the door a while later, stepping aside to invite him in again. He laughs, shrugging as he puts his now much more well-packed bag down near her couch.

"Yeah, it's- a little neater," he answers, "I almost left some, but I just needed to start from a clean slate."

"A clean start is always nice," she agrees, following him down to sit on the couch.

"I was so close to giving in and going back to bed," he mumbles, a moment later, his voice lower as he looks down at the floor and picks at a loose string on his pants, "I know I need to fight it and wallowing won't help me but... the motivation to feel better is thin."

"It's not easy, it's going to take time and it's going to take work for you to feel better – but you need to, Shayne. You deserve to feel better," she tells him, soft force behind her tone, "you need to want to do it for yourself, and deep down I can see that you do – but if not yourself, can you at least do it for me?"

"I want to do it for me," he answers, letting his eyes drift back up in front of him, "but the reason I didn't just get in bed at my place is because I don't want to let you down. I don't want to- put too much on you. I'll work through this myself, but also I- don't know what I'd do without you."

"You don't have to do it without me, okay? It's okay to look to friends for support, Shayne. I love when we just mess around and do stupid shit and you make me laugh – but I'm here to help you when you're not up to doing that too," she reinforces, and he nods.

They settle into their afternoon from then on, Shayne redirecting their conversation in a lighter direction as they order in lunch from a place like halfway between their places that he'd found on his doordash scrolling a couple months earlier, when the pandemic seemed more like a short-term opportunity and less like an unending sea of hell. She lets their conversation stay general as they eat and as he helps her tidy up the kitchen a little afterwards, but she prompts him to start talking when they shift into the relaxing part of the day.