FEELINGS OF DETACHMENT.

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

"        HEY, LOSERS.
TIME TO FLOAT.       "

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DUSK REMINDED DAXTON OF HIMSELF. There was a darkness inside of him too that appeared when things were at their lowest. It seemed to swallow things whole until it was all to be seen worldwide. However, although Daxton would have never admitted it or thought about it this way, there were still hints of light in dusk. Whether the lights were a few streaks of orange and purple, barely visible, but still there even if it was a struggle to see them. Daxton waits until they're there to return to the hotel. Walking nearly all night probably wasn't his best idea, but he felt better - if better meant the repression had become easier to do. The truth was hidden like the light, behind the dark, the fear.

Daxton knows he's stuck in deep shit when the hotel comes into view and he sees Charlie sitting on the front stoop. He's glad he doesn't have a cigarette to crush out of his brother's sight before he sees it. He doesn't want Charlie to know the habit he took up after quitting the bottles of booze. Daxton only hopes he's too tired to smell the way his clothes reek of smoke.

"Hey," Daxton greets hesitantly once he's close enough. He shuffles his boots nervously, aware that he's fucked up. The feeling just stirs in the bottom of his gut he shouldn't have disappeared last night without any hints as to where he was going or what he was doing. "I know what you're gonna say, Charlie - "

He's cut off when a fist blindly swung in his direction and he feels Charlie's knuckles smash into his face.

Daxton lets out a cry from more surprise than pain and nearly loses his balance. He's too exhausted to stand straight and being struck didn't help. Charlie wasn't forceful with the punch so it didn't hurt too bad, but Daxton knows it'll leave a mark on his jaw.

"What the fuck was that for?" Daxton demands. He ticks his jaw and feels the bone click.

"You are such an asshole!" Charlie shouts. Heavy bags make circles under his almost bloodshot eyes, but Daxton can still feel the fury as he's scowled at. "You thought it was a brilliant fucking idea to ghost us - me - in the middle of the night when that bitch-ass clown is still out there?!" Daxton stumbles when every word is followed with a shove to his chest. "I had no idea where you were! I was scared out of my fucking mind!"

A wince follows as Daxton rubs the jaw blossoming with pain. The guilt he felt was somehow much more powerful. He wasn't thinking last night. All he wanted to do was cut any and all thoughts of Richie Tozier out of his mind. It was selfish of him to leave Charlie here and making him worry all night. "I'm sorry," Daxton whispers.

"Go to bed. I'll be there in a minute." Charlie rips his harsh gaze off of Daxton after the words full of coldness as if he couldn't stand to look at the sight of him anymore with how much rage was fueling him. Daxton knows he needed time alone to calm himself as he did. Ashamed, he shuffles past him.

The bed comforts Daxton's aching muscles when he throws himself onto it after kicking off his shoes. He didn't even bother changing into something else. He lets his head hit the pillow and yanks a thick blanket over his shoulders. Daxton always felt safer this way, shielded and protected from the harsh reality of the world. But that still doesn't stop the tears that build in his eyes and start to spot the pillowcase when they drip. He hadn't cried once all night, but here, his adrenaline high crashed down and he was too overwhelmed to contain it.

Daxton's known he's an asshole since he was a kid. That was at least one thing he remembered from the past. He wasn't even a nice child. He was always the definition of bloody knuckles, foul words, worse than any battlefield he survived on. Daxton Shields knew he would never be good enough for amazing people like the Losers. A part of him wished he could amount to who they were while the other half knew he didn't deserve it.

The sound of the door creaking open causes Daxton to jump. He quickly wipes the back of his hand across his face before anyone can see he's cried, but still rolls over in fear that It had tracked him down. He breathes out shakily in relief. It's only Charlie who must have decided he was calm enough to not bash Daxton's face in for running off.

"Goodnight." The single word Charlie gives Daxton is short, his voice sharper than razor blades. He doesn't even blink in his direction and mindlessly tosses his jacket aside before jumping into his own bed with his back facing the other.

Daxton watches for a minute. He knows Charlie didn't fall asleep immediately and had only fallen into a deep silence. "I'm sorry," he says again even though the darkness doesn't respond. Neither does Charlie. His shoulders only tense. "Charlie." Daxton's voice drops into a desperate whisper. "Let's talk about this. Please."

The lamp on the nightstand between them flickers on. Charlie had turned to face him. The anger from his features hasn't completely vanished, but Daxton knows he's going to be easier on him after calming the feeling. "Fuck you," Charlie deadpans. "Tell me why you left."

"You know why." Daxton stares back until Charlie can see his eyes that glimmered with tears and sorrow. He swallowed thickly and choked out, "I wanted to drink the second I saw Richie's face."

Charlie tucks his bent arm under his head. Daxton knows he understands what he can't say, and despite how he doesn't want to hear it, Charlie says it anyways. "Then when are you gonna tell Richie you're still in love with him and stop looking like the world is ending?"

There's an ache in Daxton's chest over the spot his heart was as he whispers, "I think I'm really feeling... Something for him."

"Then why do you look like the world is ending?"

Because it felt like it is all over again.

Daxton wants to shove his face into the pillow and sob. He instead flicks the light off and plans to do so in silence. While the answer to Charlie's question hung in the air, being "when I'm brave enough", Daxton only says, "Mike is probably going to barge in soon. We'll only have a few hours to rest. Night."

He wishes then that the bed didn't exactly feel so empty. Daxton remembers when they were kids, Charlie often would snore next to him with the blankets curled around them both. It was comfortable. Daxton also remembers that there was a time when Richie would throw his body on top of both of them too and attempt to snuggle in-between them. Three boys that have grown awkward long, thicker limbs never fit together, sandwiched on a twin mattress.

Stan would call them morons. He'd also join them.

Daxton can feel the rest of his tears slip past his cheeks that crate with dimples when he weakly smiles at the faint but fond memory. The world may be ending, but if this was the last thing he remembered before it blew, then so be it.

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Daxton Shields is almost forty years old and so exhausted it rattles his core. It's a blessing the brothers were used to little to no sleep having done their tours and raised two wonderful kids otherwise they wouldn't have been able to cross Derry with the Losers even if they'd much rather stay in bed. Daxton had changed clothes after a good ten minutes of laying in bed. It's a miracle he could fight off the tiredness long enough to move and think. He was still trying to wrap his head around everything - his friends, Richie, It, everything that was turning his world upside down. He doesn't know what any of this means yet, but Mike's the one with the plan.

They cross as close as they can to the barrens without risking their lives from the clown. They climb the slope near the train tracks and when they're almost out of breath, they're enveloped with trees from the woods. Daxton can hear the lapping of the river less than a mile away. Ben stares at nature in wonder like he's never been happier. "This is where we came after the rock fight," he ponders.

Daxton can't lie and say his lips were twitching to fight off a smile of amazement. The sight was beautiful. The open clearing they came across had the sun's beams just peeking through the trees. Flowers sprout out of the soil. To Daxton Shields, it all looks like a sign of hope. It's what brings the memory flashing in his mind so quickly that he almost misses it.

"I have something to show you guys," Ben says excitedly, eyes glimmering.

"... The Clubhouse!" Richie exclaims. Daxton spares a look with Charlie who grins back. It's almost as if they have one brain, one memory.

"You built that for us!" Beverly reminds Ben through a giggle.

Ben takes lead, guiding the other boys across the clearing carefully. The soil starts to shift under Daxton's feet. He knows the opening is below them somewhere, Ben did build a door, after all, he remembers that. Ben frowns at something behind them before he turns with his hands on his hips, leaves crunching under the shoes he stomps. "You know what?" He calls out. "I actually think the door was more like... Around here..."

Suddenly, the ground beneath Ben disappears completely, dirt flying around the man who falls through the opening with a loud bang. Daxton immediately shot up. There's a quiet scuffle from below as Ben shifts underneath the Earth and shouts to them, "I found it! I'm good, come down!"

The Losers let Beverly go first. They take turns after her, one by one, slowly, until Daxton believes it's his turn. He sends Charlie a hesitant smile before he presses his first shoe on the wooden step and winces when it creaks below him. He's almost afraid it'll give out and he'll tumble before remembering the same fear he had twenty-seven years ago...

Daxton Shields is still thirteen and afraid of heights. It's a little ironic that he feels a familiar strike of fear when he glances at the wooden floorboards waiting to guide him inside the space below Earth to see what Ben was so excited to show them. He takes a deep breath. He and his friends beat that fucking clown. There's nothing Daxton Shields can't do now.

The first wood plank creaks under Daxton's sneaker. He hesitates, knees bent, in fear it'll snap into two. He watched the Losers climb down like it was no problem. He should be fine. A few bruises won't kill him. Daxton refuses to let his knees buckle as he climbs the rest of the way down until he's close enough to the lower ground to jump off. The soil shifts beneath him, but the fear has already faded when he takes in the beautiful view.

Beams of wood stand upright and hold up even larger planks that keep Derry's woods from tumbling into their heads to suffocate them. A bright light beams through the open cracks and shines over their open space. Daxton slowly smiles as those words repeat in his head - their open space. Their very own spot where they can relax, hang out, without fear of judgment, to escape from the real world. Daxton doesn't believe he's ever thought of a place like this. It brings him a sense of comfort.

"What the dick is this?" Richie asks loudly after he shoves his glasses up his nose. He's in disbelief as he crosses the flooring to observe everything closer. "How did you build it?"

"When did you build it?" Bill wonders.

Ben is grinning. He shines with pride, but his words are still shy when he answers them, "Here and there, I guess. It was already dug out, so I just had to reinforce the walls and get some, uh, wood for the roof door and... That's pretty much it."

"It's so cool," Daxton whispers. His gaze glimmers with amazement. He's careful as he steps inside as if one small touch will cause the whole place to crash around them.

Sneakers belonging to Charlie Quint bounce off the dirt as he jumps to throw his arms around Ben's shoulders from behind. "Ben, you little genius, you!" He coos during the embrace and presses his cheek on Ben's shoulder. "You're gonna have to build all of us houses someday!"

The boy he attacked shuffles nervously until Charlie lets him go. His cheeks flush red as he props his arm against a beam, replying, "Yeah, maybe!" He agrees. "It's pretty good for my first time, huh?"

He has to eat his words when a square of wood falls from their ceiling and cracks when it hits the ground just behind Beverly. They jump at the loud slam it makes before Richie breaks the tension with a chuckle. "Now that's a cool feature! What happens when you put your hand on the other pillar, Professor?" He asks sarcastically.

No one's surprised when Eddie's anxiety takes over. "Okay, so, you see, this is exactly why we have safety codes - " He practically launches at Ben, wringing his hands in a panic, "Why there are permits! This place is a death trap, do you understand that?!"

"Take a chill pill, Eddie," Charlie suggests when he sees Ben's features fall.

"I am chill! Just so you know, if I get hurt you're reliable," Eddie accuses. He points to smack a dusty object hanging from a chain and speaks so fast Daxton almost misses out on the joy of his panic. "And also, what is this? The switch from Iron Maiden?

"That's... That's a flashlight," Ben mumbles, but the quiet kid's words go unheard.

Eddie is too busy rambling to pay attention while the Losers listen boredly. "What is this? A horse hitch? Since when did you have horses? Oh, this is cool - " He cuts himself off to swipe a paddle ball and twists the toy in his hands.

"That was like three dollars, so be careful with it," Ben pleads.

"I have one of these." Eddie's anxiety lowers as his confidence boosts. It forces him to start bouncing the ball attached to the loose string off the wooden paddle a few inches away from Stan's face that immediately scowls. "Hey, Stan, do you see this?"

"Yeah, okay - can you maybe not?" Stan suggests as he flinches every time the ball nearly smacks him in the nose. No one bothers to step in and come to his rescue. They pick a beam or a spot on the wall to lean on and watch the show. If Daxton was Eddie's victim, he would have already snatched the toy and smacked the kid with it, but he settles for his shoulder bumping Charlie's every time the dark-skinned boy stifles a laugh.

Eddie annoyingly boats, "Maybe not what? Yeah, yeah, hold on, maybe not what? Maybe not what? Be awesome and have fun and celebrate the magic of the paddle ball - !"

The string snaps as the paddle fly out of Eddie's hand and put an end to his smacking. The small ball rolls away in between two planks. Ben sighs in disappointment as Eddie huffs, "Wow, oh, good going fucknuts, you broke his thing!"

The accusation has Stan taken off guard. "I broke it?" He repeated in disbelief.

"Yeah, you broke it with your face! I'm not putting my fucking hand down there!"

"You're a fucking baby, Eddie," Daxton comments, but he's smiling.

He's still smiling twenty-seven years later when forty year old Eddie Kaspbrak must have changed his mind and shoves his hand into the empty slot. The ball was once red but now covered in years worth of dirt. He blows a puff of air on it that causes some of it to sprinkle in the air. Daxton expects him to start gagging or use his inhaler, but he doesn't. So he doesn't mention it and only starts exploring.

The Clubhouse holds many, many years of childhood memories. They're all nothing but fond. Every artifact below is a symbol of the Losers and how long they should've stuck together all this time. Regardless of how stiff the magazines are, how faded the posers were, how broken and dusty the toys became, they all mean something. Something special.

Mike is showing Charlie one of his very old baseball bats when a deep voice echoes from the shadows, "Hey, Losers. Time to float."

The words, the voice, it all sends a chill up Daxton's spine. He suddenly feels like he's in a very, very realistic nightmare he can't wake up from. He doesn't dare move. Ben trips and falls on his ass while Mike tightens his grip on the bat and holds it over his shoulder.

A loud cackle comes next and Daxton's fists clench. Richie Tozier was lucky his nose didn't break when he reveals himself from the dark corner. "Remember when It used to say that? And he'd do that little dance?" He reminded them through his fit of laughter. Richie does a little demonstration of Pennywise's old dance, long arms swinging back and forth with his legs crossing. They stare blankly at him except for Daxton and Charlie who's eyes blaze with frustration and anger. "Am I the only one who remembers this shit?"

"Are you gonna be like this the entire time we're here?" Eddie snaps.

"Seriously, Richie, do that shit again and I'll bash your head in," Charlie adds coldly.

Richie's face falls. "Alright, just trying to add some levity to this shit. I'll go fuck myself." He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jackets and prances away with a whistle.

Daxton takes a minute to relax his muscles that had grown stiff when Richie scared the hell out of them and looks at Charlie, but his brother isn't glancing back. His features are a slate wiped clean, unreadable. He couldn't help but wonder what he had against Richie. Did he do something in the past? Were their memories not the same?

He's distracted when Bill suddenly calls, "Hey, guys," and turns around from the shelves built into the wall he had been studying. A can of coffee beans is in his hands, label faded. "Th... This was Stan's." He reads the piece of yellow paper with red words neatly scribbled on it out loud. "For the use of the Lo-Lo-Losers only."

"Bill..." Eddie warns as he pops the top off and reaches inside.

Thirty-nine year old Daxton expects something to bite Bill's hand off. Thirteen year old Daxton wished something would have bit Stan's hand off when he thrusts the floral shower cap towards him.

"There is no way I'm wearing that shit."

"Yeah, seriously, what the fuck is this?" Richie snaps as he snatches the cap out of Stan's hand, eyebrows drawn in annoyance.

Stan faintly smiles. "So you don't get spiders in your hair when you're down here."

With a roll of his eyes, Richie throws the shower cap over his shoulder. "Stanley, we're not afraid of fucking spiders."

Daxton almost smiles so deeply that his dimples crate at the same time Stan scowls quicker than humanly possible before stepping out of their view. The rest of the Losers were already snapping the caps onto their heads.

"I stand corrected," Richie sighs.

"That's a first," Beverly challenges with a cigarette dangling between her fingers.

"Touche."

The hammock slightly sways when Daxton scrapes his foot against the ground. His other leg crossed Richie's over his knee where he used his calf as a shelf to prop his comic book on. He's almost dozed off to sleep a dozen times from being in such a comfortable position. The two boys didn't fit well with their recent growth spurts - all long, awkward limbs, but they slot together almost perfectly like two lost puzzle pieces.

"Hey, Rich, Dax, your ten minutes are up," Eddie greets. Daxton lifted his head at the boy who moved so quickly that he missed his presence.

"What're you talking about?" Richie asks blankly as he flips the comic's page.

Eddie's cheeks started to burn with anger. "The hammock! Ten minutes each was the rule."

The wide eyes under Richie's large glasses pretend to scan the Clubhouse. "I don't see any sign."

"Yeah, and there's two of us. Doesn't that technically give us twenty minutes?" Daxton argues, but he's smiling. This time it's too deep to fight off and his dimples are deeply engrained in his cheeks.

"No! No it does not!" Eddie raises his voice. Daxton's a little shocked so much anger can fit into a small person. "That does not mean you get an extra - and why would there be a sign if it was a verbal agreement?!"

Another laugh comes from Daxton. He doesn't remember the last time he's laughed this many times and sincerely mean the joy behind it. "Alright, Eddie, chill out. I'll get out." He swung his leg off of Richie who whines at the loss to balance both feet on the floor and push himself out. It sways under him, but Richie curls up before he falls.

The voices of Richie and Eddie rise behind Daxton as their banter over the hammock grew. Daxton doesn't expect Charlie to tackle him the second he's taken a few steps with a crimson red floral cap he tries to tug over his head. "What the fuck - get off, Charlie!" He exclaims through another fit of laughs.

"You don't want spiders in your hair!" Charlie pretended to sing. Every attempt Daxton does to shove him off does little to nothing, and soon enough, the cap snaps over his hairline. Charlie finally steps away in victory. It leaves Daxton standing there, fuming, his skin flushing the same color as the cap over his head.

Thirty nine year old Daxton knows why his thirteen year old self didn't rip that ugly shit off his head the second Charlie wrestled it on him. He just wanted to see his brother smile.

He silently watches as Bill picks at the white one with pink and yellow flowers that Stan often choose to wear. No one knows the right words to say because the memory of Stanley Uris, who they never got to see again, is so faint it's almost gone. Daxton wishes he could picture his face as easily as he can hear his words.

"Do you guys think we'll still be friends? When we're older? ... Do any of your parents still hang out with their friends from middle school?"

"He was old before his time," Ben whispers. He's trying to smile, but it doesn't uplift the grief that still hangs between them.

Stan had been right as sad as it was. One by one, the Losers left Derry, and they never saw each other again. The promises of future phone calls and letters was empty. Daxton doesn't only grieve the loss of one of his childhood friends. He feels sorrow the twenty-seven years in between, time he can never get back. Time was a precious thing. It's been wasted for the Losers. Their bond was almost stolen from them.

"Yeah," Eddie mumbles. His eyes are stuck on the floor. "I wonder what he was like all grown up."

Daxton's head swivels to Richie when he speaks up, "Probably what he was like as a kid." He pauses gravely to swallow thickly. "The best."

The words he said earlier bash into Daxton's chest. He was the weakest. Stan wasn't the weakest. None of them were. They were just stronger together.

Richie is weakly smiling at Bill who tosses him the shower cap. He balls it up shakily and stuffs it into his pocket. "Okay, Mike, what're we doing here?" He asks.

"The ritual, to perform it... It requires a sacrifice," Mike explains.

"Sacrifice?" Richie repeats. He points to the hypochondriac across the room. "I nominate Eddie!"

"Wait, what?"

"Because you're little. You'll fit on a barbecue."

"I'm 5'9''. That's, like, average height in most of the world," Eddie defends.

"Hey." Charlie snaps his fingers at the two. "Both of you shut up." The two comply, Richie turning away and Eddie's lips mashing together as if he doesn't like it, but Charlie ignores them and urges Mike, "What kind of sacrifice? Not one of us."

"No, of course not," Mike quickly answers with a shake of his head.

Bill nods. "It's not that kind of sa-sac-sacrifice, guys. Mike?"

"The past is buried, but you're gonna have to dig it up," Mike takes over. "Piece by piece. And these pieces... These artifacts? That's why we're here. They are what you'll sacrifice. And since Stan isn't here to find his... I figured we should all be here to find his artifact."

A shower cap rustles as Eddie tugs it over his head. "I think Bill just did that."

It takes them more time to climb up the ladder than it did when they were young, thirteen, and had better knees. Daxton can admit he and Charlie are in better shape than some men his age, but that's only because they had to be for the longest time. That doesn't stop a click on his knees or the sting in his shoulder where a bullet scar had healed over every time he raises his arm to lift himself until he's back above ground.

They gather together in the woods. Daxton is partially hidden by a tree's branch of leaves. A part of him still hates being seen, that's at least something he remembers. Mike is in the center, the leader they needed now. He's the only one who knows how to solve their problem. He's been studying it for twenty-seven years.

"Okay, Mike, so where can we find our tokens?" Eddie questions.

Richie anxiously steps around him. "Yeah, I gotta be honest, man. All due respect: this is fucking stupid, alright?" He declares. Daxton can hear the fear behind every word. He just wasn't using jokes to cover it this time. "Why do we need tokens, alright? We remember everything... Uh, saving Bev, defeating It. I mean, we're caught up!"

"Yeah, look, Richie's fucking stupid - " Daxton's cut off when said man exclaims an offended, "hey!" in the background, but continues, "But we are caught up. The Quarry, the Clubhouse, the house on Neibolt street... It's all there, man."

The others don't know why Daxton is so protective of his own mind and why he's claiming they know enough. He doesn't want to uncover his very own secrets because digging deeper meant so much more than terror to him. The truth was there, detached, waiting... Daxton just didn't want it. It was better this way, lonelier, but better.

"Not everything." Mike stares at them calmly. He's so collected it could piss Daxton off if it was anyone else. "We fought, but what happened after that? Before the house on Neibolt. Think."

Daxton knows Mike's right and it stings like a bitch. He can't remember much else and not only because he doesn't want to. Derry hasn't allowed the secrets to come out yet. They were still buried where It had left them. They were safe, untouched. But the memories were kept somewhere else too where they couldn't be seen. Daxton's skull would rattle every time they itched to be heard.

"We c-ca-can't remember," Bill realizes, "Can we?"

"See, there's more to our story. What happened that summer and those blank spaces, like pages torn out of a book. That's what you need to find," Mike urges. "We need to split up. You each need to find your artifact... Alone. That's important. When you do, meet me at the library tonight."

Every day that Daxton Shields has known Mike Hanlon, he's admired the other man's intelligence, courage, and above all, loyalty. He still stares at Mike like he lost his mind in these twenty-seven years. "You're fucking kidding me," he deadpans.

"He's right, Mike," Charlie agrees with a sigh when their friend deeply frowns. "Dax and I, we're brothers, we couldn't find our artifacts separately."

Mike opens his mouth to speak, but Eddie beats him to it, bobbing his head. "Yeah, I gotta say... Statistically speaking?" He squints his eyes and winces. "You look at survival scenarios, we're gonna do much better as a group."

"Yeah, splitting up would be dumb man. Okay, we gotta go together, alright?" Richie insisted. "We were together that whole summer, right?"

Bill, who had been surprisingly quiet, finally pitches in. "No. Not that wh-wh-whole sum-summer."

The summer of 1989 finally catches up to Daxton. The color drains from his face.

A familiar bruise is spreading on Daxton's neck. It hurts to swallow, to shout, but he has to listen to -

"Real world: Georgie is dead. Stop trying to get us killed too." ...

A shove to each other's chest, a punch that makes Daxton see red and try to shout, "You don't fucking punch your friends!"

"Stop!" Beverly screamed. "This is exactly what It wants! It wants to divide us! We were all together when we hurt it - that's why we're still alive!"

"Give me a break!" Daxton exclaimed angrily. "You know it won't stay like that if we go back into that house!"

Daxton shook his head and ran a suddenly shaky hand through his hair. He could only stand there, knees wobbling, with the fear that what he said when he was thirteen would never come to pass.

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author's note:

i'm js writing small daxton again was so fun. i missed him so much. also i know he didn't speak a lot in this chapter but it was pretty hard to fit him in tbh and i definitely wanted to get this done to get into the good stuff. the next chapter i have planned is ... oh it's gonna be good.

i hope switching from past to present wasn't confusing - i was trying to put it all together. wanted to include the flashback scene without using italics cause it would've made the whole chapter look weird.

anyways yeah. that issss about it i think. just don't fret - daxton and richie's history is gonna start to be explained soon, i promise.

thank you for reading! ❤️

- koda

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