EAT SHIT, BOWERS.

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

" YOU DON'T THINK YOU'RE
THE ONLY OUTCAST HERE? "

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THE FIRST THING DAXTON SHIELDS SEES WHEN HE OPENS THE DOOR TO HIS NEW HOUSE IS A BUNDLE OF THICK HAIR. It covers his face, his skin, he thinks he can even taste it. The next thing he knows, his back is hitting the porch with a cry of surprise and pain and a tongue is licking across his full cheeks.

His hands fly up to shield his face and jerks to get away from it. Daxton faintly heard an older male with a scolding tone call out, "Nala! Nala, no! Down, Nala!" Before arms were wrapping around the fluffy beast that tackled him and gently heaving her back as she panted in excitement. Daxton gasped out as air filled his lungs that once felt crushed again, accompanied by the same ache that began to dull.

Because his vision was no longer full of white and gray-colored fur, Daxton then saw the animal that attacked him was a husky dog. One eye was a striking crystal blue and the other was a mix of brown. Her tail had been wagging like mad behind her as a taller male with raven hair peppered in white kept her from attacking the younger boy again. "I'm so sorry," he apologized genuinely. "Nala is still learning not to jump on strangers."

Daxton says nothing. His heart is still beating faster every second. He had been balancing himself on his elbows while the man ushered the dog, Nala, back inside the house. Once the door was shut and separating them from the dog full of energy, Daxton watched as he extended his hand in an offer for help. He hadn't accepted it. Instead, his gaze flickered away and he had pushed himself back into a standing position. His legs wobbled from the impact that hit him but he was steady enough to hold his weight.

"Daxton Shields, right?" He guessed correctly.

Daxton's lips were pressed in a tight line but he nodded anyway. He could hear the woman who worked on his case lecture him again, her words bouncing in a rattle around his skull. Give them a chance. They're giving you one. But Daxton had yet to find a house that wasn't temporary. He didn't see this house as a possible home. He saw it as a door he'd enter and leave a few times before never coming across it again when they inevitably gave up on him. It wasn't much of a chance, he thought, but he was here without being given much of another choice.

"I'm Miles, Miles Griffith," he went on to introduce even though Daxton had kept his mouth shut the entire time. "We weren't sure when to expect you - Nala will be more behaved this time, you have my word. Lia can control her better than I do," he promised with his hand resting on the doorknob.

Daxton half-expected that Nala will pounce on him again when he hears the door creak. He didn't know what else he expected at the time. He's always been greeted with loudness at every house he's walked into - whether it was the parents or the other kids. Those had been angry noises, though. Daxton had witnessed a foster parent shout at a child for fighting with another. He couldn't count how many times that happened unless he used both hands.

The atmosphere alone felt different. There are no children or adults screaming. Instead, it's almost quiet. Daxton heard a piano playing, a child laughing out loud... He almost immediately felt out of place. He had known he didn't belong here. It caused him to stiffen. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Miles's hands fall to rest over his shoulder. Daxton can't remember the last time he was treated so... Warmly, because, well... There wasn't a last time.

"Is there anything I can bring in for you?" Miles offered. Daxton shook his head. Everything he owned was in the backpack, its straps hung over his shoulders. It didn't contain much, other than one other outfit and a few scattered items of belongings. The only other clothing Daxton owned were the ones on his back. He saw the sympathy that he read as pity be brought to Miles's expression before the typical "welcoming" began.

Daxton was brought in like a hurricane, suddenly surrounded by a swirl of people. Miles's wife Josie Griffith was a blue-eyed woman with short blonde hair choppily cut. He remained stiff when she opens her arms to him as if he was already one of her own. Daxton is eyeing every exit in the house when Miles introduces him to the others - Emilia Rowan, an older teenage girl with glasses and bronze skin that was reading a novel with Nala resting at her feet. Haley Olson, the girl at the piano who kept her blonde hair in two separate braids. The youngest, Lucas Irwin hugs Daxton from behind and startled him. He had turned his head to see a boy no older than ten with full cheeks, freckles, and his neatly combed brown hair swept to the side.

Lastly is the boy his age - Charles Quint. He has a happier smile than Daxton had ever seen, practically beaming in his dark skin as he led him to their shared room all while talking a mile a minute. He could hardly keep up. He's a big fan of sports, if Daxton's first impression of the room says anything, considering there were posters plastered on the walls, a few small trophies, and different sports equipment propped around.

Daxton had been silent, choosing to keep to himself. He can't remember when he last uttered a word. He was only occasionally nodding curtly, even after lowering himself to sit on the extra bed with a thick blanket that seemed brand new draped over it and tucked in the sheets under the mattress. He only speaks when Charles, or Charlie as he claimed to prefer, goes on to a rant about a group of boys he knows in Daxton's new school.

"... There's Bill Denbrough, he's been really sad since his brother disappeared but once you know him he's really open. Oh, and Stan - don't let him throw you off, he's not always just rolling his eyes." Charlie is buzzing, bouncing with the heels of his feet as if he can't keep still. It worsened with the mention of his next two friends. "Oh! Eddie and Richie too!" He smiled even wider, if possible. "Careful of Eddie's short temper and, uh, his... Carefulness. Then Richie has a trash mouth... Try and ignore it, we all do," he advised before shrugging and going silent. He's clearly waiting for Daxton to say something and finally respond.

It's not like Daxton ever planned on meeting them. He gave another nod before uttering; "Yeah... Uh, okay."

"You don't talk much, do you?" Charlie mused. Daxton can't find an answer and suddenly found a poster on the wall more interesting. "That's okay, I can talk enough for the both of us!" The conversation on his side then ended there.

That was months ago.

Daxton had settled into Derry, Maine like a puzzle pieced forced into a spot. He can't remember ever being in a town like this. Everything seemed too perfect. Everything flowed together too well and not one adult would bat an eye when something not perfect got in the way. That included when Georgie Denbrough went missing, had seemingly vanished into thin air. That happened long before Daxton arrived, however, many others disappeared even after. He was silent and withdrawn but he wasn't stupid. The police would have moved on by the time the days passed and someone else was gone. No one really cared - other than the parents of the kids on missing posters.

It seemed as if his peers weren't as bothered either. Although, Daxton knew the first day of summer was just minutes away. Not one teenager had their eyes on the teacher desperately trying to keep their attention. Whispers to one another were rising, feet were eagerly tapping, and eyes were trained on the clock ticking every second, including Daxton's. He almost pitied the attempt to keep them interested in the last-minute subject. Almost.

His time spent at the middle school had been nothing short compared to hell and there were too many reasons for that besides the endless work. Daxton soon became an easy target for Henry Bowers and his gang because he was a foster kid and was seen too much with Charlie. It didn't help that Daxton's tongue was sharp, as was his strong-willed attitude. He had a burning passion that felt like anger built inside of him to be braver than he felt, although that admission wouldn't pass his lips. That fury explodes when Daxton sees Henry Bowers and his ugly-ass mullet.

Annoyance is an emotion that comes when he sees Charlie. As soon as the final bell rang, a loud echo that bounced through the halls, people are already shuffling out of their desks to shove past one another and get towards the door first while piling their supplies away. Daxton takes his time. He's one of the last ones out after filling his school bag and shrugging the straps onto his shoulders.

The halls are full to the brim when he leaves. They're chaotic in a way that makes Daxton want to bundle up and get far away from it. He's pushed to the side and nearly rammed into a giggling group of young girls crowded by an open locker door thanks to Stan Uris who calls to his group of friends before dashing at them. Daxton glared at the back of his head covered with a mop of curls after catching himself.

Charlie was too insistent. Daxton's annoyance was born (or grew) only a few days after stepping foot in the Griffith's household, and that was mostly due to how easily Charlie bonded with him despite the clear fact that the feeling wasn't mutual on Daxton's side. He even forced interactions between his friends and Daxton which never exactly went well in their favor, especially the first time.

Sure, blame Daxton for being "closed off" behind "walls" he built to "prevent from being hurt again" or whatever words his caseworker used to describe him. It was all bullshit anyway. All he heard himself was to be alone was better than to be around... Well, whatever Charlie's friends were. Isolation was easier to bear. Daxton could take care of himself. He didn't need anyone else or to be dependent on another. This is why he attempts to duck out of view before anyone other than Stan saw him. He was just a second too late.

"Dax!"

Oh, no, no, no. Daxton picks up his pace almost immediately to dive into the crowd in hopes he'd blend in and disappear. It wasn't easy. He doesn't fit in - he never has - so he sticks out like a sore thumb too easily. Charlie catches up in seconds, his sneakers loudly slapping against the marble middle school floor. Daxton didn't turn around to greet him but that goes unnoticed by Charlie. His arm had already slung over his shoulder when he caught up to join his side like this was his normal routine.

It wasn't for Daxton. He flinched at the movement but didn't jerk away or drive an elbow into the other's hip, so Charlie counted it as a win so far. "You know, the first day of summer always comes with the best feeling," he declared. "Have you emptied your locker yet? We always trash all our papers on the last day!"

This time, Daxton did yank away. He tugged his shoulder away from Charlie and nearly drove into the plastered wall in doing so. He knows exactly what Charlie is expecting of him, to pretend he was friends with the other four and that he had a spot in Derry. Daxton adjusted the strap of his bag as it suddenly felt heavy like he had already filled it. "No," he says with a hint of coldness that is enough to dim Charlie's smile. It almost sends him backtracking. "I'm... I'm just on my way now," he finished.

"Oh. Me too." Charlie's bright smile twitched back onto his lips that settles Daxton sliver of guilt. "Hey, we'll be just outside, okay? My friends - they're really starting to like you."

That Daxton doubted. He wasn't anything like them, not even close. He could list the endless traits they owned that he didn't. He had a deep hunch that they felt like they had to at least pretend that they liked Daxton just for Charlie's sake. The first time meeting went as well as he expected. The Griffiths gave them the privacy of being alone in the living room where they switched between paying attention to whatever Charlie decided to flick on the TV and the board game he dragged out. It became a competition between the group of boys who would win and leave victorious. Daxton hadn't put in too much of an effort, giving the others the advantage, and more so hung back.

Maybe they thought he was quiet or rude but assuming so wouldn't get Daxton anywhere. Somehow, Charlie knows his insecurities and can catch on to what doubts were running through his mind. Daxton feels Charlie's fingers lightly wrap around his wrist and deliver it a gentle squeeze. He feels the urge to rip away before it ends badly but slowly let their eyes meet. "I'm being real, Dax. You don't think you're the only outcast here?"

Daxton doesn't process that fast enough. Charlie is gone, leaving his statement lingering in the air and his mind. He knew Derry was small but large enough to hold ones who felt like him, he wasn't that small-minded, he just didn't like to admit how alone he felt in such a world. Daxton felt lonely in a sea of people he nudged through to get to his locker. It didn't change when he located his locker and emptied the contents into his backpack, causing the pockets to bulge with the thick material.

It felt even heavier than what Daxton was used to. The Griffiths offered to purchase him a new one but he quickly denied them, afraid of what would follow if they did. Attachment. He always had his backpack nearly empty, not by choice, but from being on his own. He used to only carry what he needed. Daxton felt like that would come soon when Derry would just be a memory after the Griffith foster family would eventually become tired of him.

The sun had never felt so warm when Daxton found the first exit. He's warmed instantly. It led him to the front of the school, the green grass swarming with excited students of all ages bouncing to meet their parents or stroll away, eager to get a fresh start on their summer. Dimples crated on his cheeks nearly appear at the sight but it's wiped away to a clean slate at the next scene that greets him.

The boys Daxton has come across and met on multiple occasions thanks to Charlie were scattered. Stan was toppled over on Richie with Patrick Hockstetter, one of the few members in Bowers's friend group, looming over them. Eddie was gagging and lurching away from Belch who loudly burped behind him with Charlie's hand on his back in a protective manner. Daxton stormed forward and was close enough to heat Hockstetter's teasing as he stole the kippah off of Stan's head and waved it above him teasingly. "Nice frisbee, flamer."

Anger was hidden in Stan's tone. "Give it back!" He fumed as he outstretched to snatch it back, being a second too late. Hockstetter had already whipped around to fling it into the open window of a yellow school bus driving by.

No one attempted to stop it. Instead, eyes were locked on the scene with slight amusement, Daxton swears even a few bark some laughs. Not even the adults around the area do anything, he doubts they're paying attention and if they are, they clearly don't give a shit. It's disgusting. Daxton's lips press into a firm line and his blue eyes blaze with a newfound rage before he offers a hand extended in the direction of the two fallen. Richie took it first, his palm pressed against Daxton's with thin fingers wrapped around his hand tightly until he can pull him into a standing position. "Thanks, Dax."

Richie used his pointer finger to push his thick, black-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose while Stan's hand clasped around Daxton's lower arm so he can be drawn onto his feet. A loud scoff interrupted the scene that makes Richie flinch away when they pinpoint it as Bowers. "Fucking losers," he taunted, his tone like ice. His shoulder purposely hits against Bill's, the signal to his little gang to turn and follow him across the sidewalk in obedience.

Even Daxton is taken off guard with Bill's newfound rage that matched his own. Bill practically shook with his anger. "You s-s-suck, Bowers!" He shouted to the back of his head.

"Shut up, Bill," Eddie piped in warningly. Charlie's eyes dart from him to Bill in silent anxiety.

It wouldn't end well on their side. Bowers had stopped suddenly in his tracks and slowly turned his head as if giving Bill another chance to back down. Then he turned menacingly. "Did you s-s-s-say something, B-B-B-Billy?" He demanded, mocking his stutter. Bowers got closer until he was dangerously in Bill's space. Daxton knows he isn't afraid in the slightest. He guessed easily no one would do anything to stop him if he ripped out a knife here and now. It only infuriated Daxton more. "You got a free ride this year 'cause of your little brother. Ride's over, Denbrough."

"Leave him the hell alone!" Charlie exclaimed. He's doing what he can to sound as courageous as possible but there's a waver in his words that makes it more unsteady and less of a threat towards Bowers.

"Keep to yourself," Bowers spat with revulsion. A horrible name followed that compared Charlie to some kind of animal because of the color of his skin. Charlie's features morph into hurt as if he was physically struck. He reeled back in fear. Daxton knows the slur used towards him may have felt like it.

It's what all of a sudden breaks the dam that held back Daxton's very short temper. His hands had curled into trembling fists hanging low at his sides. There's only one person allowed to mess with Charlie and his name is Daxton Shields and cruelly bringing Charlie's race into it was just too far in his eyes. Richie mumbles his name in a form to stop him but he's already taking a few heavy, large steps that hit the gravel's pavement until his shoulder lightly bumps against Bill's. "Eat shit, Bowers," he spat.

Bowers's lower lip curled. He holds a look of anger with a deep hint of something else; something murderous because Daxton dares has the bravery to stand up to him of all people. He goes to move but something holds him back. His eyes, once full of his flame of emotions, soon squinted before flickering into fear when they peer over Daxton's shoulder.

Daxton only had to take one peek to see what kept Bowers from trying to pummel him. Across the street from the school was a missing girl's mother, her hands pressed over her aching heart as she gazed with a broken hope towards the emptying school. Behind her was Officer Bowers, standing in front of a parole car, sliding the sunglasses off his face and glared in their direction. Daxton had lived with many foster parents who had their own special ways of raising children. He recognized that look.

The way Bowers tensed when his eyes met his fathers and how he was so afraid he was holding back in the terror of what would come later. Daxton doesn't pity him, not even an ounce. He mocks the scoff Bowers made earlier. "Pussy," he coughed out until Bowers's stare returned to him.

"What did you say?" Bowers dared but he doesn't move. Not an inch. He's terrified and fortunately, Daxton isn't.

Daxton knows he isn't going to do shit with his father hovering a few yards away. But it's not what gives him confidence. It wasn't the first time he stood up to Henry Bowers since moving to Derry and it wouldn't be the last. He pretends to clear his throat. "Excuse me - I meant to say coward," he corrected himself. "You're a fucking coward, Bowers. Grow a pair and pick on someone your size."

The top of Daxton's head barely reached Bowers's chin but his feet are planted firmly without giving any signs of backing down. It only makes Bowers's skin nearly turn red, not from the sun's heat, but with rage at the fact everything Daxton was saying was true. "I'd watch your mouth if I was you, faggot," Bowers warned him cruelly. Daxton's fingernails dug into his palm at the slur. "I'd bet your only standing up for these losers so they'll take turns jerking you off later."

It takes what little is left of Daxton's self-control to not start a fight with Bowers there. Charlie can sense what heat is radiating off of him and is the first to pinch at Daxton's sleeve and gently tug him back. "He's not worth it, Dax," he reminded him.

"Don't worry. Thanks to your new little friend, this summer is gonna be a hurt train for all you faggots," Bowers threatened. He rose his arm to lick a long line down his palm with his tongue before slapping it against Bill's cheek and dragging it down, wiping his salvia against his skin. Daxton is positive that would have been the final nail in his coffin had he done it to him.

Bill didn't flinch, only scowled at Bowers as he turned once more to finally walk away with his friends that hadn't bothered to step in with the interaction. They follow him to a blue car parked at the side of the street and open the doors to pile inside. Daxton's stare on them doesn't move until they drive away, music blaring loudly through the speakers.

"I wish he'd go missing," Richie voiced out loud.

Eddie shrugged. "He's probably the one doing it," he suggested.

"T-T-Thanks, Dax," Bill speaks up. Daxton at last broke the hard stare to face him. All of Bill's anger had bubbled down and was replaced with a touched genuineness that Daxton stood up for them.

Oh, no. Did this make them friends?

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author's note:

wow okay so that chapter was so not good. however i also promised myself i'd get this done before i go to bed so it's currently 3 am and i have school at 9 so YIKES smh the things i do for my characters

i love the fact that daxton is so traumatized he's horrified at the fact of making friends - like shut up they adore u ur baby. and i also love him standing up to bowers and his ugly ass mullet cause someone had to ok so THANK UUU.

one more thing! i am still struggling with an adult faceclaim for daxton and charlie! if anyone wants to help out i'd more than appreciate it, thank you!

and i'll be back with a new chapter soon because i already would die for daxton shields and richie tozier!!

- koda

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