THE END OF THE WORLD.

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DEAD BOY (book one).
°•        CHAPTER FOURTEEN        •°

"        THEN WHY DO YOU LOOK
LIKE THE WORLD IS ENDING?       "

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DAXTON HAD SPENT SO LONG CONVINCING HIMSELF IT WAS BETTER THIS WAY. To be alone, to take care of himself, to refuse to rely on anyone else. Isolation was easier. A little lonelier, but better. And it was a constant war and he was on both sides - to be afraid to create an unbreakable bond with someone, and to want it more than anything in this world. He tried to lean closer to keeping himself in solitude so no one could hurt him. But it became a battle he had lost. Daxton opened up and made himself a vulnerable person, slowly, each time he met one of the Losers. He became someone new, someone he looked in the mirror and didn't recognize, but he liked what stared back at him because they looked better. Happier. Sometimes.

However, parts of who Daxton was crept up on him. Like the anger that could burn so warm his skin would flush. The shame he felt was even stronger. He doesn't know where it began, but he knew where he was stuck now. Daxton had spent so long keeping these thoughts buried, then that stupid clown had to dig the truth out. He could still hear Richie's snorting laughter like a bell, the way he makes them laugh too, he was so stupid but so smart as well, how much love he shares with the other Losers... And Daxton knew it was something special, something more, just for him.

That was what scared Daxton. It wasn't only he was afraid of cementing a connection with him. It was that he was a him. Daxton Shields was a complicated boy in every sense, but there was one solid truth engraved in his mind. He was always as dirty as everyone around him accused to be because he would cringe at the thought of kissing another girl. He pathetically blushed at the thought if the genders were reversed. He was always the cruel taunts Henry Bowers used against him, a flamer, a faggot, a queer -

His anger spiked in seconds and Daxton slammed his fist over the cookie dough he was rolling. Daxton desperately wanted the shame to disappear so he didn't snap but it wasn't. It was still there, something very real and something he had to face no matter how afraid he was. So he tried, waking Charlie up early, flushed a bright pink, and mumbling he wanted to apologize to Richie with something special. That something special happened to be cookies. Really, it was sad, he was so hopelessly smitten and sorry.

"Hey, now the chocolate chips did nothing to you," Charlie joked. He flicked powdered flour at Daxton and it lightly kissed his cheek, the white substance covering his color, but he doesn't even crack a smile. Charlie's didn't fade, but his shoulder slumped. He's been trying for what felt like forever to bring his brother's spirits up and nothing seemed to be working. He decides there to quit the jokes, the puppet show, and make it a little more serious. "You can talk to me, brother." And Charlie doesn't say it because there's no listening ears in the house besides him. He says it because he truly means it.

Last night was the first time Charlie had seen Daxton break after trying to hold those shattering pieces together. He's never seen his brother sobbing, arms wrapped around him, wanting to feel something else after something Charlie thought was beautiful happened. Daxton knows so and doesn't hold back, blurting, "What do you... Do you think that I'm, you know..." His fingers dance across the edges of the dough so he can shape a circle. "Do you think I'm - "

"I don't," Charlie cuts him off before Daxton can utter anything degrading about himself. "The only thing I think is you're stronger than you believe. You're amazing. Who you are doesn't change that."

The dam in Daxton had broken the night before. It was in pieces now, so every time he felt an ounce of sorrow, his eyes burned with tears. To be accepted brought a whole new feeling of being overwhelmed to him. He gave a sniff and shook his head. "Thanks, Charlie." But he had so many more questions as his head tried to wrap around this. What do you do when you're different in a town that thinks it's wrong to be? You lie through your teeth, he supposes, but what do you do when you can't force yourself to lie anymore?

But that wasn't all. Daxton watches, silent, as Charlie fiddles with the oven's knobs. He's careful as he slides the metal tray with a clang inside the heat before shutting the door, and he breaks again. "Charlie?" His brother hummed and turned towards him. "I don't think that's, um, all about me." Daxton pauses and took a deep breath. This was the hardest thing he's ever had to say out loud, but it's too late to stop. "I think I'm really feeling..." He touches the part of his chest where his heart was underneath, aching, unintentionally smearing sugary dough across his shirt. "... Something for him."

He doesn't believe he's ever seen Charlie beam, so full of pride that he wishes he was brave enough to let himself feel. Charlie's practically glowing, but the undertone behind his words are filled with pity, "Then why do you look like the world is ending?"

Daxton's mouth snapped shut. He didn't have an answer because the world has ended so many times for him that he stopped paying attention to it doing so when it began again in the morning. But this time... It was different. He was full of pain, it hurt badly, and he knew it showed to everyone, even to the mirror.

And he did something incredibly wrong because of it. Daxton shoved Richie away and made him feel as foul as he felt himself. He knew baked cookies weren't the way to an apology, but it was a start. As long as he truly apologized when he met Richie's eyes, and he continued to swear to himself that he would regardless of how badly his gut would twist. Daxton knew he stepped over a line and regretted everything as soon as he did it, but he had to mean it when he says he's sorry.

The brothers had thought they were alone in the house for so long that they're both startled, jumping a foot in the air when there's a few knocks banging against the wood. Daxton suddenly felt warm with anger and fear somehow, going over every possible outcome, believing somehow word got to Bowers and now he was here -

His thoughts slightly calmed when he heard the voice on the other end, full of fury, powering through the door, "Hey, Shields, Quint, one of you open the fucking door!"

It was Stan. Anger and fear faded, replaced with confusion as Daxton's eyebrows furrowed. He's never heard Stanley Uris of all people pissed off. He was often collected, soft-spoken, although sarcastic, never furious. He shared a puzzled look with Charlie who shrugged, quickly wiping his hands clean of their ingredients so he can open the front door. Daxton is about to wipe their mess clean, but hears the heavy footsteps the second Stan is granted permission to enter and he hears them coming towards him.

"What is your problem?!" He exclaims once he's in the kitchen and their eyes meet. Daxton's lips part, unsure, but he isn't given a chance to speak even though Stan demands him to do so, "Well?! You know, you've been a real fucking prick since you moved here and if it wasn't for Charlie, none of us would have put up with it! So, give me a reason we should now!" Stan's cheeks are practically burning with rage as he raises his voice, his curls sticking to his forehead, the skin beading with sweat. He must have biked like he was participating in a race all the way there.

Daxton is still endlessly lost, but it clicks. Stan knew what he did to Richie because he must have told him. He feels his mouth grow stuffy like it was packed with cotton out of nowhere. He was okay with Charlie knowing, somewhat, but the rest of the Losers...

Stan seems like he's about to snap again, but he stops, because he watches a sight he's never seen unfold. Daxton was gnawing at his trembling bottom lip so he doesn't weep like a toddler being scolded, but a tear had escaped without his permission, and rolls down his cheek. He knew he was an asshole. He always knew it. And if he wasn't blessed with an amazing brother like Charlie, he never would have ended up in the band of Losers. Daxton's nose burns as he struggles to hold back the rest of the tears that want to escape. Stan wasn't lying, but he may as well have socked him in the gut and he would have felt the same. The blow doesn't soften with the cold truth.

The protective wrath Stan carried started to fade as Charlie shook his head. He let Stan blow off steam and watched from the sidelines, but he had enough when he saw Daxton's eyes turn wet. "Stan, you know I think you're the best... But you owe Dax an apology for that," Charlie orders, gentle, but firm.

It was Stan's turn to grow silent as he thought it over. His chest rose as he sucked in a breath and nodded curtly, his curls falling lower at the motion. "You're right. I shouldn't have said that," he admits quietly. "I'm sorry, Daxton." Daxton says nothing in response to the apology, but at least he doesn't cry any more. Stan even looked guilty, but he doesn't stop there, "You're not always a prick. You're a great friend, really, but... You owe Richie an apology. I don't know what really happened, and it's none of my business, but for once he's dead fucking silent. I'd usually appreciate it, but not when it's 'cause he's hurt."

"I know," Daxton speaks softly. His voice was often hard, holding a flat deadpan, and it sounds beyond foreign even to himself. And he doesn't hate how he doesn't recognize it because he now believed sometimes change could be good, for the better. "And I am sorry. I just made..." He trails off when he realizes how stupid it sounds, to exclaim that he made Richie cookies, but Stan catches on and glances around their surroundings. Daxton's cheeks burn at the knowing look on his friend's expression. "I know I screw up a lot, but... Shit, I just want to feel fucking normal for once," he chooses to finish with and resists the urge to rip his hair out.

Charlie slowly crosses the room and locks his arm through Daxton's. He's stable where Daxton's weak. He's the anchor he's always needed in his life, heavy enough to hold him down through the rough waves he's riding. He feels Charlie's head rest on his shoulder a moment later, his skin cool, sticky with grains of sugar. "You're the best brother I've ever had," he whispers. "I told you who you are could never change that."

"Yeah," Stan agrees with a lift of his chin as if he accepted him, too. Charlie outstretches his free arm out, and Stan hesitates, but soon Daxton feels himself being enveloped by him, too.

And Daxton Shields, the boy who was never meant to be loved, stains Stan's shoulder with tears because he's so grateful he was given the chance to at least feel loved in that solace moment.

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The container was snug in Daxton's hands. He gripped onto the plastic like a lifeline until his skin became taunt, pulling over his knuckles, turning them pale. Charlie offered to tag along as he packed the cookies for him, but his brother declined, insisting this was something he had to do on his own. A part of him regretted leaving his anchor behind because he thought his shaking ankles were about to collapse under him at any minute, his bum one threateningly close to doing so. Daxton didn't turn around even if he wanted to. He was determined to suck it up, swallow his fears, and finish his mission instead of giving up.

He hates he has second thoughts when he sees the Tozier house come into view. Daxton was well aware he owed Richie more than an apology, and he vowed to deliver one even if he had to rip the words out of his throat, but he didn't know what would happen after that. That alone was pretty scary, but Daxton doesn't retreat down the concrete sidewalk despite wishing it would crack open and swallow him whole into an empty void.

Daxton's hands had been still for the most part during his walk but as soon as one lifts to press the doorbell, they start to tremble. He thinks then and there that this was it. The world had ended for him too many times for him to count, and now he had to hold the planet on his shoulders so it wouldn't. And to do so, Daxton had to face one of his biggest fears. Maybe then he'll be courageous enough to face It again.

The nerves spiking through him feel like the sparks of needle points when he hears a rustling behind the door. Daxton braced himself to come face to face with his biggest problem, Richie, but it isn't him. Instead, a taller middle aged man with a steaming mug of what smells like coffee beans in his hands, bearing features similar to Richie, stands in the door frame. Daxton made the assumption quickly this was his father. They even wore the same large glasses, although, he at least seemed to be dressed more cleanly, without any bright, blinding colors.

Daxton realizes he hadn't spoken a word when he hears, "Can I help you, son?"

The blood in Daxton's body flood to his cheeks and fill them for what must have been the hundredth time that day. He awkwardly shifted the weight in his sneakers, unsure with himself or his comfort, leaving his voice to come out higher pitched than usual. It was almost like a squeak and Daxton wanted to claw at his throat until he reached his voicebox so it would return to normal. "I was just, uh, looking for Rich - Richie, sir." He clutches the container a little tighter at his unusual politeness created from his anxious mind.

The other's lips twitch into an amusing smile at the sight of Daxton squirming like a bug under a microscope. "Really? Here I was thinking that Rich has still been creating imaginary friends. So, that makes you either Bill, Eddie, Stan, Charlie, Ben, Mike, or..."

Daxton exclaims, "Daxton!" Before realizing his outburst and quickly quieted, "Yes, um - sorry, yeah, I'm Daxton. I'm Daxton Shields."

He can't lie and say he doesn't expect for the older man to be disgusted when Daxton says his last name. Sonia Kaspbrak certainly did, as did nearly every other adult he came across in Derry other than Miles and Jo for his foul mouth and spot in a foster home. But there's no traces of revulsion. Daxton appreciated that since there was a first time for everything.

The faint smile turns into a grin as he nods. "Alright, I'll stop torturing you and my poor son who hasn't shut up about you since you moved here. You can come in if you'd like, I'll run and grab him," he offers kindly. Daxton doesn't think it's possible to blush anymore, but he does, feeling as if someone had lit a match and brought the flame to his skin. He doesn't take the suggestion to enter but nods, unable to choke out a thanks before he disappears inside.

Daxton takes a few deep breaths. That wasn't so bad, he thinks in a poor attempt to calm his panicking thoughts. He can't even convince himself because he knows he looks like a sad, nervous mess. Every second that ticks by and turns into a minute only makes the alarm in his head go off louder. He's only able to wish one last time he asked Charlie to come too before Richie appears in front of the door left open for him.

He looks truly sad, and Daxton's heart clenches, knowing he's the cause of it. He did something bad, something incredibly cruel to a person he cared about, he said an awful thing that no one should ever have to endure, and denied he felt anything, all while knowing it would hurt him. He can see the pain has etched into Richie and made a home all because of him. And Daxton is so fucking sorry, feeling endlessly guilty for it, and would give anything to knew what he was aware of now to so he could take it back.

But sadly, there's no such thing as traveling back in time. Daxton can now only repent for what terrible things he did.

Daxton honestly sucks at forming words because he's still struggling to make words because the next thing he knows, it's Richie asking, "What the hell are you doing here?" In a confused tone. Like believing he would see Daxton again would happen when pigs could fly.

"I..." Daxton's brain falls flat like a wire split and malfunctioned. There's no electric sparks that usually run the motor connected to his mouth. His mouth has gone dry, but he knows if he doesn't come up with anything soon, Richie will have every right to slam the door shut in his face. "I'm sorry," is all he can suddenly blurt out, so fast that the two words sound like one.

Richie blinks. Then, "You're what?"

He shut his eyes, inhales, then opens them and hopes Richie is dumb enough to listen to what he has to say. "Stan was always right. I've been the biggest fucking dickhead since... Well, even before I moved here. I was afraid, Richie. I've never had friends. I've never had a family. And I've never really had..." Daxton pauses to swallow thickly. "... Feelings. I was really fucking overwhelmed and scared, badly, because it hurts to be abandoned. But that doesn't excuse it. I shouldn't have acted like that to any of the Losers. I shouldn't have treated you like I did. I'm sorry," he repeats.

Richie opens his mouth to say something, but Daxton doesn't stop. He's opened the dam long ago, the tears have spilled, and now he can't stop the words that follow. "Do you want to know what happened to me? How I ended up here? It wasn't because I picked fights in my foster houses. I didn't burn the towns down either even if they fucking sucked..." He stops, fidgeting, growing frustrated at what he was spitting out. "... I ended up here because my dad deserted me, then my mother threw a glass bottle at me and gave me this - " Daxton knew he was rambling now but doesn't even pause to take a breath when he points at the permanent scar, watching Richie's eyes glaze over it. " - Then I'm bouncing to different foster families. And I don't know if any of that is fate or destiny or if that shit exists, but I found what I was looking for along the way."

A family, he would insist if he was as brave as he felt. Something more. Something he never deserved to have but it was here, and Daxton was going to hold it so tightly that gashing claw marks would be left if anyone ripped it away from him. That would be the true end of the world for him.

A beat of silence follows so Daxton can catch his breath. Then Richie tilts his head, moved, but hiding it as he mumbles, "Deep." Daxton releases a long breath he didn't even know he was holding like a lump in his chest. But Richie doesn't look settled or close to done no matter how uncomfortable or anxious it made the both of them. "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have... You know." He pressed his lips together like it pains him to say so. He glances at the ground like specs of gravel were the most interesting thing he's seen all day. Daxton could see his face fill with a light color underneath his messy hair.

Daxton had almost forgot about the case in his hands. He clears his throat after the sentimental moment and juts it forward so he doesn't have to insist it was okay. "I made you cookies," he uttered like an idiot before babbling, "Well, Charlie did most of the work because I've never baked before, but I - I told him I wanted to say sorry, and I thought cookies were the best way to go - I know it's dumb, but I - "

If it was Christmas, Richie's face would have outshone any pine tree decorated in lights by the way he lit up. Daxton's heart hammered instead of breaking. "Shut the fuck up, I love cookies!" He listened to Richie exclaim.

There are a lot of things Daxton hasn't done since he was smaller. Crying was at the top of that list, which he could now cross off, and smiling so wide it hurt his cheeks from the unfamiliar feeling would be right underneath as number two. Daxton hasn't shown his dimples in a long, long time, maybe he did at the Quarry the day they went diving, but he can feel them make their return as his lips spread into a grin that fills his cheeks. He watches as Richie bounces on the balls of his feet in excitement after tearing off the lid and stuffing his mouth full.

It's pretty gross, but Daxton feels an overwhelming emotion of fondness as he sees the melted chocolate chips stain Richie's lips. For once, he didn't feel ashamed or dirty to have such a feeling. He felt like it was allowed. Daxton considered the face that it was okay to feel it. He didn't care who was watching. Bowers, It, whatever could pop out of the bushes and he wouldn't bury the emotion in this moment.

"Thanks for the cookies, Dax," Richie speaks through his mouthful. "Hey, let me pay you back - I can buy you a few rounds at the arcade. It'll be fun." His eyes brighten with hope, and Daxton could never deny him of it.

"Yeah, I - Shit, sure," Daxton stumbled over his words. Richie relaxes the bony shoulders under his over-sized button-up like he may have considered that Daxton would decline.

All Daxton wanted to do was finish what Richie started yesterday, but he doesn't as they make their way there. And the thought isn't as scary as he thought it was. Maybe the world wasn't ending after all.

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Happiness was a funny, strange emotion whenever it occurred in Daxton's little world. It was so foreign to him that he would shove it as deep as he could, six feet under the pit in his stomach, so no one could ever see it and take it away from him. Abandonment was a scary thing to happen and he was afraid to let himself feel the joy when he's with someone else. But it happens anyway and Daxton freely allows it to as he watches with a true, loving smile as Richie mashed on the buttons of the system, shouting at the screen like the pixel figures would hear him.

He's really happy in a way Daxton hasn't seen. He's comfortable, free. Daxton feels dumb enough to believe it was something that could last when they leave the building. But it was there, now, and that's what really mattered to him.

"You really suck at this," Richie teases while red flashes the screen, signalling Daxton's side had been knocked out.

"You really suck at this," Daxton mimicked him in a higher pitched tone in the same way he would to mess with Eddie, mostly because he couldn't come up with anything else to fire back. "At least I don't get knocked out offscreen from one punch!"

He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. Daxton figured he screwed up by mentioning Richie's fight with Bill, but Richie doesn't even tense at the reference. He only laughs, the noise bringing a calming ease to Daxton.

However, Daxton realizes if you speak of the devil, it may appear. The clown happened to be the closest thing to the devil, but it isn't what appears on command. It's Bill. Daxton did hear the door swing open with a quiet squeak, but he didn't notice the frantic boy until he sprints straight for the machine the pair were messing with.

"Richie, Dax!" Bill pants as he stops at the edge of the system to catch his breath like he just finished running a marathon. His hair is a mess, his eyes are wide, and he's on high alert. Something was wrong.

The happiness faded into nothing but anger as soon as Daxton's cold blue eyes met Bill's. Richie is less angry than Daxton but more frustrated as he kept his attention on the game's screen. "What do you want?" He doesn't give Bill a chance to answer. "You see that guy I'm hitting? I'm pretending it's you."

Daxton rolls his eyes away from Bill's face at the poor insult. "We're gonna work on your insults once he fucks off," he states bluntly.

He doesn't miss Bill flinching at the harsh words. But he shook it off to declare, "I-It got Beverly."

"What are you talking about?" Richie asked, uninterested.

Bill finally broke as he snapped, "It! It got Beverly!"

The blood running in Daxton's veins went so cold it must have frozen and stopped completely. He hasn't seen Beverly since the fight since she sided with Bill and he regrets it here and now. Because here he was, on top of the world, the wind blowing through his feather haired and kissing his warm skin, while she was taken by It. Daxton was so stupid to believe ignoring it would make the problem go away. It was never going to stop. They had to stop it.

Slowly, the world around Daxton becomes a blur as it starts to end, but he'll be damned before he lets it this time.

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author's note:

🎤 drop

if you know me as a writer, you'd know i like to keep my characters relationships vague. i don't always state the status of them dating. however, daxton and richie are also two 13 year olds in a scary town, afraid of what they feel, so no, i wouldn't say they're together or anything. they have yet to confront that barrier. this chapter was mostly important to daxton's development plus a major step in whatever meaningful bond they do have, if that makes sense!

i have a lot to say lmao. but first? stan's friendship with richie is so overlooked like they're underrated besties y'all always sleep on em. secondly? charlie's the best brother period. thirdly? why is no loser's parent ever mentioned? sometimes i see people making richie's parents abuse and awful but consider this: richie tozier was raised by cool parents, second best to miles and jo. lastly? daxton shields blushing every minute is the cutest fucking thing and no you cannot change my mind. why has no one ever commented on that, it's precious that he goes from😡 to ☺️ in if he hears richie laugh.

as a reminder, i will be resuming college again monday. they are only online classes so hopefully my schedule isn't hectic, but i prioritize my class work before writing, so i won't have those frantic updates as often as i did over the summer.

i've set up the last two chapters, so we should only have two chapters including the final scene aka a first part epilogue left unless i have to split them into three if they get too long - then we start it: chapter 2 with even more torture! hehe. thank you for sticking with me through it ❤️

- koda

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