THICK SKIN & AN ELASTIC HEART.

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

"        HE SAVED MY LIFE EVEN
WHEN I DIDN'T DESERVE
ANOTHER CHANCE AT IT.       "

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DAXTON SHIELDS WONDERED EXACTLY WHERE HIS HATE BOILED FROM BECAUSE BOY, DID HE HATE A LOT OF THINGS. Smoking for starters. He's always hated the lingering reek of smoke, how it burned his nostrils and stained anything in its wake, including a pair of lungs. It just sucks he picked up the horrible habit. Then there were heights. He still feels his heart clench every time he's far enough from the ground for the hair on the back of his neck to stand straight. Explosive noises, clowns, hell - getting beads of sand in his shoes. Daxton grits his teeth at these itty bitty things that make him want to rip out his hair.

And the funny thing was, something that was almost unbelievable, Daxton Shields also loved with all of his heart. There were so many people that he tried to embrace with the razor-sharp and bleeding organ all while attempting to also keep them locked out so he wouldn't hurt them too. The Losers, his brother, his sister-in-law, his niece and nephew, the men he's served with - Daxton poured as much love as he could into everyone. Doing so left him with a dreaded emptiness and made him so unbelievably bitter that no one believed such a wrathful man could love anyone.

But Daxton does. He would die for them, kill for them, whatever they wanted.

And he remembers exactly who took the cake of the list of things he hated, what overpowered all of his love: Henry fucking Bowers.

He remembers exactly why too. The second they burst into Mike's library, the fucking pig has Mike pinned to the floor. Their arms cross against each other as Bowers shoved the point of a knife close to his throat. His hands are trembling with the force as he grunts, "... Just like your junkie parents."

"You guys know that burned-down house on Harris Avenue? I was inside when it burned down. Before I was rescued... My mom and dad were trapped in the next room over from me." Mike chokes up. "They were pushing and pounding on the door trying to get to me... But it was too hot. When firefighters found them, the skin on their hands melted down to the bone."

A familiar chill hits Daxton when Mike lifts his head with sad, brown eyes. "We're all afraid of something," he admits.

Daxton refuses to be afraid of Henry Bowers any longer.

"Can you see them yet?" Bowers taunts. A manic cackle fills the destroyed room followed by, "Crispy?"

One of the many tables with artifacts had glass shattered into pieces across the floor. Daxton crouches and swipes one of the rusted axes. He can feel the shards slice into his already scarred palm. The weight of the wooden handle now slick with blood gives him the feeling of carrying mountains, but Daxton endures. He's done much worse.

Daxton gave the weapon a heavy spin with a twist of his wrist. He brought his arm above his head.

Bowers's voice raises like the lunatic he was, "Like fried fucking chicken - !"

The blade of the ax breaks into Bowers's skull as Daxton lodged the weapon into his head.

It makes a sick, thud sound. Blood immediately starts to pour and stain the greasy curls on Bowers's head. Daxton leaves the ax there and grabs him by the back of his neck so he can feel his muscles twitch and strain against the grip. Surely Bowers knows he's dying. And as sick as it was, almost as sick as him, Daxton feels an intense sense of pleasure out of it.

He gives a forceful yank until Bowers is close enough to hear Daxton coldly hiss, "Nice seeing you again, asshole. I'll see you again in hell."

Bowers's head finally falls limp as the words pass Daxton's lips and he releases him. He falls forward and smacks the ground over Mike's shoulder where he becomes completely still. After years of torture, at least one monster haunting them was dead.

Footsteps thunder behind Daxton and a second later he hears Richie stifle a noise that he doesn't know is shock or disgust. "I guess that was long overdue," he tries to joke. A gag follows as he tries to continue, "You get it? 'Cause we're in a library - "

He suddenly hunches over at the waist and promptly vomits all over the floor.

The reality of the situation finally hit Daxton. He stumbles away from Richie's puke and stops panting from the lack of air as everything is sucked into him all at once. Beverly's screech of terror at the sight of Bowes's body rang in his eardrums. Daxton nearly topples over as he tries to back away from the death scene. Blood was staining his hands - metaphorically and literally - which start to tremble at his sides, seeping past his skin, warping his atoms forever as a permanent reminder.

"Shit, Dax," Charlie breathes, and a second later, Daxton feels him pressed onto his side. It grounds him back to space, Earth, Maine, Derry, and then Mike's library. Charlie's hands quickly inspect him for any injuries, but he sees none. And then he gets it. His dark eyes become soft as he tries to meet his brother's. "Dax, are you okay?" He whispers. The palm of Charlie's hand is warm as it meets Daxton's skin. "Hey, hey, hey. Talk to me. Are you alright?"

Daxton swallows the lump in his throat and nods. He still can't speak. He's never not killed someone before. A man who sports camouflage and carries a gun in a desert doesn't return home with their hands clean. And this was Bowers. They should be popping open a bottle of champagne and celebrating. But something still didn't feel right. Daxton felt like he was going to be sick right after Richie.

His nod brought Charlie to exhale in relief. "Okay..." He releases his brother and spun to Mike who finally made it to his feet, nursing the cut on his arm. "Where's your cleaning shit, Mike?" He asks. He takes off once Mike points him towards a closet.

Beverly fumbles around the room for a first-aid kit. She guides him and Daxton to sit at a table and tends to the fresh cut. She tries not to rush as Daxton sat, speechless. He can't stop staring at his quivering hands. Having killed Bowers took too much strength out of him and added yet another scar to his already damaged heart.

Charlie reappears a moment later. He surprises everyone when he twists the cap of bleach off the bottle and turns it upside down. A couple of the Losers jump in surprise when the liquid spills over the floor and swallows the traces of blood, vomit, and evidence. Richie nearly falls over to avoid the powerful solution from coating his shoes. "What the fuck, man?!" He snaps.

"Shut up, Richie," Charlie spat. He grabs the mop he retrieved and began the process of wiping the floor clean of any evidence left behind.

The coldness behind his words brought Richie to stiffen. The features of his face twist into hurt as he tries to understand exactly what the fuck Charlie's problem was with him. They used to be best friends, the nine of them. The only time Charlie noticed Richie's existence was to snap at him for being an idiot or telling him to shut up. And it hurt. It truly did.

"What did I do?" Richie whispers. Charlie pretends he doesn't hear. Richie doesn't catch on and takes a brave step forward. "I'm talking to you, asshole. You've given me the cold shoulder since we stepped foot in this town. If I did something to offend you - "

"Offend me," Charlie mimics with a scoff. He fears he'll break the wood of the mop with how tightly he clenches it to fight off the urge to turn it into a weapon and beat Richie with it. Charlie takes a deep breath before he breaks. "You're a real selfish dick, you know that, right?"

Richie reels back. He fears being struck with either harsh words or by Charlie. Both outcomes seem bad. "I didn't do anything," he defends quietly.

Charlie straightens as if Richie personally offended him. He stops mopping as his face flushes with anger. "We graduated in '93. You..." He splutters and tries to find the right words as he jabs an angry finger in Richie's direction. "... You left barely a month later." Richie shut right up as Charlie starts to shake with anger.

"A promise of phone calls, letters, visits... A bunch of bullshit. You broke my brother's fucking heart."

Silence fills the air. It was so tense a knife could've been sliced through it. Ben's eyes dart between the two as he senses he shouldn't step in, but he's unable to help himself. He can't bear to see two of his best friends butt heads. "Guys, I'm sorry, but maybe we should take it easy," he gently recommends.

"No," Richie protests. Ben backs down. "Alright, Charlie, I don't want to hear this shit. We all moved on." But his voice is weak. The trio knows it's all bullshit.

Moved on. Charlie almost sourly laughs. He instead sarcastically states, "Yeah, moved on. I guess he did. Drinking booze, smoking, torturing himself every day..." He takes yet another deep breath. "He never moved on, Richie. I watched it. He couldn't because yet another person had abandoned him. So maybe... Maybe we can't place all the blame on you. Maybe he'll forgive you. But I'm not him. I watched him lose bits of himself every single day when he was just starting to heal... And for that, for that, I blame you."

Nobody says anything. Richie doesn't look like he could even if he wanted to. It was as if Charlie had stolen his vocal cords by just spitting a speech over how Daxton's large heart was shattered when he was ditched out of the blue. Both men know Pennywise robbed them of their memories, forced them to forget, and blocked them from remembering Derry. But Charlie can't find it in him to care all that much. Daxton meant the world to him. He ached over being left behind so badly that he slapped a band-aid over the shattered remains of his heart and declared it good enough.

Richie Tozier finally realizes just how bad he crossed the brothers. A frown pulls over his face. "I'm sorry," he apologizes quietly. He knows it'll do no good, the same way Daxton tried to fix things himself. It wouldn't fix anything right now.

"Don't be." Charlie tosses the mop aside once he deems the crime scene clean enough. It clatters as it hits the wall. He suddenly stops and glares Richie down, squaring his shoulders. He made sure Richie knew one thing.

"Daxton doesn't need an apology." His glare turns into a scowl. "He's too good for you."

Richie's lips pressed together before anything could escape. He wants to spill and tell Charlie everything he remembers, how Daxton called him a faggot when they were kids, how Daxton thought what they had was merely just some weird fucking crush because the guy was an asshole, plain and simple. Neither of them was in the right. Because it doesn't matter who's right or wrong. There was only one fact: Daxton loves his friends enough to kill for them - obviously.

And Daxton Shields loves Richie Tozier with all of his broken heart.

Meanwhile, Daxton flinches on the other side of the room when Eddie crouches in front of him. He stole a couple of damp cloths and wrings them over his bloodied hands. "Someone had to do it," he greets. Daxton tries to steady his hands as Eddie drags the rag across his skin to reveal the normally pale color underneath the mild crimson. "Thanks for it. I'm glad Bowers finally kicked it."

Daxton slowly releases a shaky breath. "Yeah," he whispers. He attempts to feel good about what he did. He should, shouldn't he? Bowers was finally dead. He wiped him off the map. He's done something so terrible before.

But the thing was, Daxton did so in self-defense. If it was him or the enemy with a gun, with a knife, or even trying to pummel him to death, Daxton always chose himself. He made it home after everything, like Mike said. It took a lot of strength to do so. Daxton just didn't think he'd return home still a monster.

"Here, let me bandage your hand, you big baby," Eddie offers. He brings Daxton's hand closer to him and cleans it to prep for the white bandage stolen from Beverly.

"It couldn't have been easy. None of this is," Mike adds gently. Beverly just finished wrapping his bandage and starts to clean the mess of supplies opposite of him.

Daxton shakes his head. "It wasn't." He sighs and flexes his fingers as Eddie finishes. He swears he can still feel the blood staining his skin, so warm and so much of it that he could dip into it for a bath, and the panic drove him to lean closer to Mike so he can choke out, "I'm sorry, Mike. I'm so sorry."

Mike's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "For what?"

His eyes start to water. Daxton can't believe his adrenaline finally crashed after everything. The dam broke at last. "For what I said, what I did. That was horrible of me, Mike." His voice breaks. "I just wanted to forget. I wanted to forget everything."

The words must hit Mike hard as his shoulders slump and his head tilts with a soft gaze. "Dax, you don't have to apologize to me." Daxton's lips part as he furiously shakes his head. He wants to splutter that every single one of them deserved an apology from him, but Mike continues. "I know you never had it easy. But you're... You're recovering." He shakes his head at the irony of it all, that he himself couldn't move on while everyone else did. "I honestly don't know how you did it."

Daxton tries to smile. He quickly blinks so he doesn't cry because the tears welling up are threatening to spill and once he starts, he won't be able to stop. "The truth? It was all Charlie." He casts a glance at his brother who was quickly mopping the mess. Daxton takes a deep breath. He hasn't faced the truth in a long, long time because of how badly the wound hurt every time he poked at it.

"He left when things got too bad."

The confession even caught the attention of Eddie. He squints, but Daxton doesn't stop. It's toppling out of him. "Charlie saved my life. He said he couldn't watch me kill myself anymore. He wouldn't answer the phone when I called, slammed the door in my face, and I... I didn't blame him for it. I deserved it. I was a horrible person, an ugly boozer. The things I did while drunk are unforgivable. And I realized if my own brother was leaving me, then it's that bad." Daxton emphasizes once more, "So I got help. He saved my life even when I didn't deserve another chance at it."

He owes Charlie everything.

A shaking hand now clear of any traces of blood with a fresh bandage tied around it quickly wipes at Daxton's wet eyes. He can't bear the way his friends are looking at him. The child in him with a throbbing heart wants to forget so desperately while also wanting someone to understand and tell him he's good. Daxton wants to believe he's better than who he was and needs to hear someone say it. While this fight inside him rages on, he chooses neither side and opts for wondering out loud, "It's okay, it doesn't matter. Where's Bill? We thought he would've caught up with you by now."

Mike's lips tug into a frown as he stares at Daxton as if he grew another head. "I haven't seen him. Let me give him a call."

It takes the leader of the Losers Club longer than Daxton would've liked to actually answer the phone call Mike made. "Bill," he finally greets after a long dial tone. "We're at the library. Where are you at?"

Daxton can't hear Bill's response clearly since Mike doesn't have his cellphone on speaker. But he's freaking out, a stutter of a few curse words, nearly audible up until Mike jumps out of his chair. "No, no, no, no," he panics. "Look, just - just come here to the library, we can come up with a plan!"

He raises his voice and the alarms are set off in Daxton's head. He carefully stands with a sudden alert once Mike hangs up. He spun to face the rest of them. "He's going to fight it alone," he announces with a twinge of frustration.

"What?" Richie whispers in shock. His head hung low. Daxton could hardly speak himself. He knew they all had the same thoughts. Bill was doing it on his own for Georgie, for the friends he was trying to protect, bracing himself to face the fury of It while standing alone. He was out of his mind.

"Alone," Mike repeats. He grabs something strange, what looked like an odd artifact from one of the library shelves, and slams it on the table. It seemed like a bucket-shaped almost like a pyramid but instead of metal, was made of leather. A few images were scrawled on the flat edges that Daxton couldn't make out. "The ritual doesn't work without the group. Doing it together is the only way it works," Mike insists.

The declaration continues as Richie wordlessly inspects the antique Mike had. The owner notices and casts a glare at him before he snatches it back. Richie raises his hands innocently.

"Mike, did he tell you where he was going?" Ben questions.

Charlie anxiously drags the tip of his fingers through his dark, cropped hair. "There's no way he's going back to the hotel if he wants to end this," he suggests.

That only leads one other spot they all dreadfully remember.

"If he really wanted to kill Pennywise, there's only one place he'll go," Beverly realizes softly. Fear fills her blue eyes.

"The same place the ritual has to be performed," Mike confirms.

Eddie groans. "Oh, we're not gonna like this, are we?"

"The Well House," Daxton mumbles. His heart pounds so hard it could've hit his rib cage. "Fuck."

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The Well House was just alive and dead all at the time as Daxton remembers it. The twenty-seven years that passed around it had not been very kind. It's still falling apart board by board, rotting from the inside out, barely standing on the last of its hinges. It's that much eerier with the moonlight shining over it. Dead grass surrounding the lawn slightly quivers with the chill of the night's wind. The very same feeling of fear still struck Daxton once it comes into view. He recalls how he thought it should attack him, and how scary the thought was at the time, but he's ready now. His knees are steady and the blood in his veins thunders with fearless adrenaline that drives him out of the rental car Charlie drove them in.

Yellow, deadened leaves crunch under Daxton's shoes as he jogs to catch up with his friends before Bill could reach the decaying porch. Beverly cries out his name as he takes the first step.

He whirls around at the sound. Daxton watches the color drain from Bill's face at the sight of them and swears he can hear his heart snap into two when he sees them. "No! No, you guys, no," he begs. "I - I started all this. It's m-m-my fault you're all here. This fuck... Fucking thing that's inside you all... It started growing the day I ma-ma-made you all go into the Barrens 'cause all I cared about was finding..." His voice cracks. "Geor... Georgie."

Bill points with a shaking hand at the rickety door behind him. His face pinches in pain like this had been agonizing for him. Daxton imagines it was - his friends were prepared to die for him again. "Now I'm gonna go in there and I don't know what's gonna happen but I can't ask you to do this!"

"You're not asking anything of us. We're going in there with you," Daxton declares bravely. His lionheart soul doesn't care if he was alone in this too. He will not let a friend march into the Well House alone where It was waiting.

Beverly nods. Daxton's response drove her to crouch and pick up what she declared as a weapon, a metal road with a pointed edge. "We're not asking you either," she adds.

Their protest brought Bill to take a step down the porch. He desperately shakes his head, but Daxton stands his ground, especially when he feels Charlie's broad shoulder brush his own. The back of his callous hand grazes his for steadiness. They're all in this together.

"We didn't do it alone then, Bill. So we're not gonna do this alone now," Mike urges.

"Losers stick together," Ben states.

They won't leave room for an argument. Bill can stand there as long as he wants and scream at them until he's blue, choking on his guilt for everything in the past, but he can't force the Losers to stay put outside. This is where they belonged. If It dies tonight, It will die by eight pairs of hands with their lost friend watching from the other side.

The solemn moment as they share scornful stares is broken by Eddie. He shrugs uncertainty and suggests, "Shouldn't someone say something?"

Pain and regret are still evident in Bill's expression, but he tries to smile at some of the people he loved the most who were prepared to storm after him. "Richie said it the... B-B-B-Best when we were here last."

"I did?" Richie asks, stunned. His eyes dart around as he attempts to figure it out.  He quotes, "I don't want to die?"

Bill shakes his head. "Not that."

"You're lucky we're not measuring dicks?" Richie tried again.

"No."

"Let's kill this fucking clown?"

Daxton's elastic heart skips and Bill finally grins with determination. That's the one.

The elastic heart stretches before snapping completely as Richie bravely proclaims, "Let's kill this fucking clown!"

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author's note:

i came back quicker than last time HELLO!! i literally envisioned this chapter for SO LONG. it came out hopefully how i pictured it and i hope it was good! a lot of things might not make sense so i'll make it clear here:

daxton is likely not too good for richie. he's been an asshole before and he'll probably do it again. not that i'm defending him, but he's traumatized as hell. it happens. but he's charlie's brother and in charlie's eyes, there's no one good enough for his brother because he's super protective of his heart after seeing everything that happened to him. so he's given richie the cold shoulder since because he's pissed even tho richie definitely shouldn't have been tied to that town forever and it was certainly pennywise's fault for everyone losing memories once they left. please dont hate my boy! charlie is just a wonderful brother!

so, what did happen between daxton and richie? i'm hoping it's kinda clear but there'll be more to add soon. richie ended up leaving the summer they graduated for school which means once he left, he forgot about everyone in derry. without phone calls, letters, and visits, daxton's heart broke completely as he thought richie forgot about him. so after awhile, charlie and him enroll in the military and leave as well as daxton's hoping he forgets too. i'm definitely not saying any of this is richie's fault of course. daxton is heartbroken still and charlie is protective, that's all!

and another thing to lastly add! charlie and daxton had a rift when daxton was working through his drinking problem because charlie realized he couldn't save him. daxton still appreciates he did this cause without having been done, he never would've been able to stop drinking.

also sorry to steal richie's thunder but daxton deserved to be the one to kill bowers for sure lmao.

ok this authors note is getting too long. everything is going to be fixed soon & a lot of hearts are going to break!! that's it, thank you for readin, love you guys, all that typical stuff ❤️

- koda

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