SCARS DON'T FADE AWAY.

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

" I JUST HAVE A LOT OF ...
I DON'T KNOW. ANGER? "

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ONCE STAN AND EDDIE SOMEHOW GUIDE THE BOY TO THEIR FEET AND OUT OF THE WATER, it's then that Daxton gets a look at his face and can put a name to him. Ben Hanscom. The brand new kid. A few months after he moved to Derry, Ben followed, something about doing so for his mother's work. Daxton only heard that from a few rumors. The new kid was a shyer boy who mostly kept to himself, nose stuck in books, even when he was taunted for his weight. Ben was trying to hide himself away from their worried and confused stares, but none of them could ignore the blood prominent on his shirt even when he tried to cover it with the palm of his hand. Bill somehow managed to convince him to accept help, leading him so he can comfortably sit on the back of his bike's seat before they can take off together.

It was the sight of the red stain that drained all color from Eddie's face. He didn't stop babbling the entire ride to town, and although Daxton was holding his tongue, his hands were gripping the handlebars so tightly his knuckles turned white. It was physically painful to not tell Eddie to shut the hell up.

"I think it's great that we're helping the new kid, but we also need to think about our own safety. I mean, he's bleeding all over and you guys do know that there's an AIDS epidemic happening right now as we speak, right? My mom's friend in New York City got it by touching a dirty pole on the subway And a drop of AIDS blood got into his system through a hangnail. A hangnail!" He exclaimed. "And you can amputate legs and arms - but how do you amputate a waist?!"

And the impulse grows much stronger as Daxton carefully turned the bike's handlebars to lead the wheels into an alley behind Derry's pharmacy. Eddie winced as he entered, more hesitant. "You guys do know that alleys are full of AIDS-infected needles, right? You guys do know that?" Eddie urged.

Daxton quickly took his foot off the pedal and hit the ground before he could tip over where he finally snapped. "Eddie, no offense, but please shut the fu - "

A sharp jab to Daxton's side made him stop mid-sentence. He turned his head, eyes narrowed at him in a warning. "Don't," he whispered. It was like there was something about Eddie that Charlie knew that Daxton didn't. His mouth clamped shut, seeing that Eddie had barely noticed him, too busy aiding Bill to help Ben off of his bike and to a wooden box where he could prop himself against a graffiti painted brick wall.

"Richie, wait here," Bill instructed him.

It made Richie's lips part, about to openly and loudly protest, but Charlie stepped up. "I'll stay too," he offered. He crouched on Ben's side with a friendly smile, concern hidden behind his dark eyes. Daxton's hesitation to follow caused him to nearly miss the others taking off without him. He catches up, Bill waiting patiently with the glass door open for them to sprint inside. The pharmacy is small and Mr. Keene, the oldest man Daxton had ever seen who owned the place, was behind the desk. His frail body was hunched behind the counter, beady eyes glaring at the group behind his gold-framed wire glasses as if he knew what they were up to.

Eddie was already inside, having darted to the aisle of medical supplies and disappeared from Daxton's gaze. The three left behind him are slower as they follow his path as Bill and Stan rummage through their shorts' pockets, pulling out a few green bills with silver coins. Eddie had already gone to work searching the shelves and piling boxes in his arms. Daxton snorted when Bill sent him an expectant look hesitantly when he clearly doesn't want to request for his share. "You're kidding, right? I'm a foster kid that rotates between three outfits and have everything I own in a bag," he whispered out harshly. "All I have in my pockets are dust bunnies."

It's not that Daxton wouldn't help and pitch in if he had anything to share. But it's also that he once ran away from a foster family with nothing in his pockets, spent nights digging through trash cans in the back of restaurants and swiping little snacks off shelves that no one would miss until he was caught and a store owner called the police. He was a nice guy even though Daxton was tight-lipped, refusing to give him his name, only opening his mouth for the candy he let him have as long as he stayed put until the officer showed up. The point is - he knew what it was like to have nothing more than anyone.

The point Daxton gives makes Bill cringe. He felt like he was getting too good at making other people uncomfortable. Bill cleared his throat before asking Stan who was counting the money they had gathered. "Can we afford all that, then?"

Stan pressed his lips together before shaking his head, causing Bill to deflate in disappointment. "That's all we got."

Balancing the chosen supplies, Eddie gave them a small pout and bit his bottom lip. "You kidding me?"

"Wait," Bill stopped them, brightening with a better idea. He pointed to Eddie. "You have an account here, don't you?" He questioned eagerly.

He glared back like Bill had suddenly sprouted three heads. "If my mom finds out I bought all this stuff for myself..." He shook his head at the thought and shot down Bill's plan. "I'll be spending the whole rest of the weekend in the emergency room getting x-rayed."

"Yikes," Daxton muttered. Granted, he's only known this group for a few months but was Eddie's mom that crazy? Whatever. He shrugged and grabbed a box of disinfectant that Eddie had, sliding it into his back pocket.

It was Bill's turn to stare at Daxton as if he lost his mind. "Are you ser-serious?" He whispered. His blue eyes are wider than normal, flickering around the area surrounding them like Mr. Keene would jump into the aisle and embrace the old, creepy man stereotype by chasing them out of his store.

"What?" Daxton asked with a roll of his eyes. "You want to help Ben or not? Grab some shit." Bill says nothing this time as he reached for something else to stuff out of sight only to be stopped by the sound of footsteps that come around the corner of the aisle and near them.

A hot flush creeps up Daxton's neck at the idea of being caught, literally redhanded, stealing. He clearly winced and turned his head, prepared for the old asshole to scream that he was calling the police, or worse, his foster house. But it's not Mr. Keene gazing back at them curiously. It's only a girl. She's hiding her arm behind her back, ruby lips parted in shock that is surrounded by a sea of freckles as they all stare each other down. It's her hair that's a brighter red than a firetruck, pulled into a ponytail and draped over her shoulder that makes Daxton recognize her from one class they used to share together - Beverly Marsh.

As soon as the name processes in Daxton's mind, a roll of gauze slips from Eddie's bundle and bounces off the floor's rug. It only makes the silence awkward that Bill tried to clear. "Y-Y-You okay?" He asked, noticing the stiffness that rose in her shoulders. It only went away when the door behind her opened and another girl their age with her hair pulled back tightly in a scrunchie stormed out.

"I'm fine," Beverly responded, attempting to use firmness in her tone. Her curiosity mixed with confusion at the supplies Eddie was holding. "What's wrong with you?"

"None of your business," Stan countered, harsher than he meant to by the nervousness hidden in his words.

Eddie took a deep breath. "There's a kid outside, looked like someone killed him," he blurted all in one breath. He sent an apologetic look to the others.

His panicked outburst made Bill sigh in defeat as Beverly tilted her head back in wonder. "We... We need some s-s-supplies, but we don't have enough money," he explained quietly. "And Dax... Dax thinks we sh-sh-should take it anyway." Daxton sent him a harsh glare. He didn't know if Beverly would snitch on him so why was Bill being so dramatic?

However, the corner of Beverly's lips curled into a grin of mischief that eased Daxton's worries. "It's not a bad idea," she admitted with a wink. She kept her arm behind her back as she passed the boys, mumbling under her breath so only they could hear her. "Just give me a minute. Wait for my signal."

They're utterly stunned into silence as Beverly sauntered to the counter with new confidence in every step. Daxton doesn't understand why until he sees the way Mr. Keene looked too interested in the thirteen year old girl in his view. His skin prickles with disgust at the creepy smile that causes more wrinkles. What a fucking pervert, Daxton thinks angrily. It's fucking vile and he can't get how Beverly doesn't vomit on the spot just by the way he stared her up and down.

Somehow, she's putting on a flirty facade. Daxton can see it by the way Mr. Keene passes over his glasses to her. Beverly pretends to be shy, sticking out her chest, tilting her head to edge him on further. Eventually, she pulled off the glasses and went to pass them back over the counter's top to their owner. In doing so, she purposely hit a display with her extended arm. Beverly begins apologizing sweetly to the other with such innocence that convinces Mr. Keene she really is pure. He's clueless, only amused as he reassured her it was fine and crouched out of view to clean up the mess.

Subtly, she looks over her shoulder and raises her eyebrows at the boys that were gaping back, slowly remembering - right, the signal! Daxton blinked a few times to snap out of it and whirled around, stumbling and nearly face planting. He feels Stan seize his arm before he can fall, causing them both to stagger in some kind of run as they chase after Bill who accidentally shoved Eddie into a shelf, knocking down a few items in doing so. They just barely make it outside and to freedom without tripping and cracking their noses on the ground.

"What the fuck took so long?" Richie called out when they reenter the alley where he's still waiting with Ben and Charlie not so patiently.

"Shut up, Richie," Stan snapped back.

Eddie ignores them all and goes to work almost immediately, setting up the stolen items and guiding the hem of Ben's shirt up to reveal the worst injury he had. Daxton sucked in a deep breath at the sight. A deep H was carved into Ben's stomach, thick red lines that could have only been done by a knife's blade. Daxton knew there was only one person in Derry crazy enough to try something like that to a kid. Henry fucking Bowers, that sociopathic asshole. Eddie swallowed thickly at the cut he had to bandage and waved to Daxton. "Hey, Dax, give me that disinfectant," he instructed nervously.

Right, yeah. Daxton tore his eyes away from his intense staring and retrieved the small box he had stolen before placing it in Eddie's opened awaiting hand. Charlie watched the exchange with suddenly wide eyes. "Did you steal that?" He asked. "All of it?"

"No, I paid for it with the money we don't have and walked out with it in my pocket instead of a bag," Daxton drawled out with dripping sarcasm. He shook his head. "A girl showed up and helped us out," he explained shortly.

Richie sighed. "Ah, girls. Never sugar, spice, and everything nice, huh?"

"Like you know anything about girls, Richie," Charlie jabbed, rolling his eyes with a smile on his face.

That made Richie gape, offended. "I'll have you know, Mr. Quint, I'm the expert on the female species!" He shook his head before deciding to be the most annoying person there and clapping Eddie on the back. He got closer until his nose was practically where Eddie was making an attempt to perfect dressing Ben's scar. "Now just suck the wound!"

"I need to focus right now," Eddie stated, shoving him away.

"You need to focus?" Richie mocked.

"Yeah, can you go get me something?"

"Jesus. What do you need?"

"Go get my bifocals. They're in my second fanny pack."

Charlie's earlier soft word to Daxton echoed in his mind. Don't. It was a simple request. Don't harshly judge how frantic Eddie could be, and why he was such a hypochondriac. So he tried not to judge the fact that Eddie had not one fanny pack but two. Stan, however, is not as forgiving as he snorted a short laugh. "Why do you have two fanny packs?" He questioned.

"For emergencies," Charlie pitched in jokingly. Daxton guesses Ben bleeding out in an alley counted as an emergency.

"Yeah, but I need to focus right now and it's a long story," Eddie responded without peeling his brown eyes away from Ben's torn skin as he moved on to try taping a bandage to cover it.

"I don't want to hear it," Richie reassured him boredly. "You have to suck the wound before you apply the band-aids. This is 101!" He exclaimed with more passion, leaving Eddie to insist that Richie doesn't know what he's talking about which Daxton sincerely believes.

He only voices his thoughts that sound more like an opinion about the cut he knew from experience wouldn't just disappear. Scars don't leave your skin just because you hate them. "Looks like it's gonna scar," he admitted and regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth when he saw Ben's head drop. Daxton had a habit of not letting his brain process the words before they can leave his mouth and sometimes seemed crueler than he meant to be. He wants to make a half-ass apology but before he can even try, a blur of red rushes toward them and Ben batted Eddie's hands away to cover himself again before the familiar girl can see.

"Are you okay?" Beverly asked him with sincere concern. "That looks like it hurts." Daxton noticed a pack of cigarettes in her hand that she shuffled with before storing it in the plastic bag she carried with another heavy, boxed item inside. He wondered if she stole the pack too.

"Oh, no, I'm good. I just fell," Ben lied awkwardly, fiddling with his hands. He's still smiling at her, though, his full cheeks turning red due to his shyness.

Richie scoffed. "Yeah, right into Henry Bowers!" He butted in loudly.

The name made Beverly tense up, pressing her lips together in a firm line. When Bill noticed her statue, he narrowed his eyes angrily at the one who made the accusation. "Shut it, R-R-Richie!" He hissed in warning.

"Why? It's the truth!" Richie defended.

A twinge of guilt stabbed Daxton. He wasn't friends with Ben, or any of the ones he was standing with, really, but he had been brave enough to stand up to Henry Bowers. It sent him into a rampage and Ben was the one he decided to make his target to get all his fury out on. While the victim only sheepishly shrugs, Daxton shakes his head. "It is the truth," he agreed curtly, causing Richie to glance at him with wonder. "Someone here should have the guts to stand up to Henry Bowers and his ugly-ass mullet before he knifes someone else." And takes it too far, he wants to add but doesn't just this once for Ben's sake.

All of the stiffness that held in Beverly's muscles faded. "Someone should," she declared in agreement with Daxton. She took a step towards Ben with a sudden friendly smile that almost looked teasing. "But are you sure they got The Right Stuff to fix you up?" She asked, adding a wink like there was something in her question only she and Ben would understand. Ben only blushed deeper.

"You know, w-w-we'll take care of him," Bill interrupted. "Thanks again, Beverly."

"Sure!" Beverly says cheerily before suggesting, "Maybe I'll see you around."

Bill sends a fast glance to his friends that was almost a pleading look for them to be quiet just this once before casually speaking to her again. "Yeah, we were thinking about going to the Q-Q-Quarry tomorrow, if you wanna..." He stammered through his invite, struggling to finish his sentence, but Beverly is patient and allowed him to muddle through. "... C-Come?"

"Good to know. Thanks," Beverly said with a cheerful smile. She sent Ben one last wave before bounding away, leaving the group of boys alone.

Charlie rose from where his knees had been digging into the concrete for so long. Particles of gravel had dug their way into his skin that he brushed away like they didn't hurt and weren't scraped as a result. "Actually, me and Dax have to get going," he announced.

The news made Daxton cock an eyebrow. "We do?"

Charlie both sent him a strict look and put his hands on his hips. "Yeah, we do," he insisted, mimicking Daxton's tone. "Miles and Jo want us home before dinner." He does what he's best at - besides getting on Daxton's last nerve - and grabs his wrist. "See you at the Quarry tomorrow! Feel better, Ben!" He exclaims, giving the boys a chance to bid their good-byes before Charlie is dragging his foster brother out of the alley and to where they had dropped their bikes in a pile.

Daxton waited until they've both rode far enough from the alley and are in the clear, far enough from the middle of Derry's town, to ask the question that's been bugging him since Beverly Marsh didn't judge them for stealing and decided to help instead. "What's so bad about Beverly Marsh?" He voiced curiously, keeping a tighter grip on his handlebars as he slowed when he turned his head to keep the conversation with Charlie.

A breath of air is exhaled from Charlie when he's caught off guard. "I guess there's just a lot of rumors about her," he began. Daxton frowned. That's it? Just a couple of stupid rumors? "Like... Her body count is higher than her age," Charlie explained slowly so he'd catch on. "But - but they're just rumors!" He quickly continued by the surprised look that appeared on Daxton's face. "I'm sure there's been stupid rumors about us that she heard. She really seems like a nice girl. Greta just hates her guts and started that shit."

"Yeah," Daxton agreed. He gazed back at the road they biked down. Beverly didn't have to help them, she did it purely because she was empathetic and wanted to. "She is nice."

"Yeah?" Charlie echoed with a faint grin. "Is there something about her that - "

Another heavy blush filled Daxton's cheeks, not because of what Charlie implied, but the embarrassment. He felt like he was under a light. "God, no, not like that," he declared, cutting Charlie off before he can finish. He doesn't know how to defend it; the fact that Daxton had never really had a crush on anyone. He can't figure out why girls weren't really attractive in his eyes. It's not that Beverly was ugly, she really was a pretty girl, but as a boy who had just reached thirteen, shouldn't he feel that way? What really held him back from it?

Daxton quickly shook his head as if to erase the thoughts as soon as they entered his mind. "Girls, they're fine, I just..." He tried to shrug. "I'm not really interested."

That had Charlie's attention further. He looked genuinely thoughtful and curious. "Oh," he uttered. "Are you..." He trailed off, hinting clearly.

He was so cut off guard he nearly fell off his bike. "Fuck, no, of course not," Daxton spluttered defensively. "I'm not a fucking - "

It was Charlie's turn to interrupt him. "Hey," he warned before Daxton said a bad slur he would regret. "If you're not, that's fine, but you're sure as shit not degrading someone else in front of me." Daxton knew then by the strict tone Charlie was using that he's never heard before that he fucked up and shouldn't have gone that far with something as dumb as being gay.

He shouldn't have gotten so defensive to start with, really, and should apologize, but the words just won't leave his mouth. He's too far gone over thinking about what Charlie said. It's not that the concept of someone being gay was completely foreign to Daxton, despite the fact he was stuck in a small town in the eighties, where he imagines it isn't easy to admit you kiss the same gender rather than the opposite. It's just the way Charlie implied Daxton was one of them. God, this is fucking pathetic, he thinks. He's being so melodramatic over nothing like a teenage girl.

He's not gay and that's the beginning and end to everything that Daxton was positive of.

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Dinner that night consisted of mashed potatoes pooled with gravy with a side of vegetables and a slice of meat. It was all warm, served on a porcelain white platter with swirling vines of flowers painted on the circle. Daxton was doing a lunch lady's worst nightmare by playing with his food, poking his fork at the moat of mashed potatoes until it jiggled before breaking apart, causing the gravy to leak into his pile of green beans. The table was circled by the children laughing, Lucas and Haley most of all, talking over one another when Miles and Jo ask them about their day like they're seriously interested. Maybe they are. Daxton only tunes back into the conversation after having let it fall deaf in his ears when he faintly hears his name.

"Dax, what about you?" It's Miles, making an attempt to pull something out of the closed-off boy who was always waiting for the other shoe to drop - in this case, waiting for them to get sick of him so he can get the hell out of Derry. It had to only be a matter of time now. When Daxton says nothing, Miles pushes on instead of giving up. "I noticed you and Charlie weren't here today. Did you have any fun?" He questioned.

It's almost like Charlie can sense Daxton's discomfort from where he sat next to him. He cut in once he swallowed his mouthful of corn. "Actually, Bill wants us to go to the Quarry tomorrow. Is that okay?" He requested, effectively changing the subject.

Jo tilted her head. Her short, blonde hair fell over her shoulder. "If you promise to be careful and not go cliff diving," she said carefully. Charlie nodded as fast as he could, the bobbing motion making Daxton see quickly he was lying without words. Maybe she knew asking two teenage boys with a group of other teenage boys not to do something reckless was useless, but her motherly instincts told her to at least give it a try. A sympathetic look suddenly crossed Jo's face. "I feel so terrible for that poor Denbrough boy," she continued with a shake of her head, meaning Bill. "I can't imagine what his family must still be going through." Miles frowned and rested his fork over his napkin to lay the palm of his hand over his wife's.

By her pity for the Denbrough family, Daxton knew it wouldn't be right to mention how Bill has his friends searching through shitty water for his little brother who has been long pronounced dead instead of missing. It was something the adults in Derry wouldn't understand. It made the kids feel like they had to stick together, as if they were alone, without the supervision they needed when they were in fact, just that. Only children. They shouldn't feel so alone in a small town full of people when all their friends were going missing too often.

It was Daxton and Charlie's turn that week to wash the dishes. Miles and Jo believed in letting the chores be spread out evenly through the house, which was fair as long as no one fell behind. After everyone at the table has finished their meals, Jo helps the pair gather the plates, cups, and silverware scattered around to dump in the sink before leaving them alone to work. Charlie was nice enough to wash them on his own, only asking Daxton to dry them with a cloth before putting them away properly in a cupboard.

Their chore is done in silence until Charlie eventually breaks it, scrubbing at the surface of a dirty plate with a yellow sponge, soap bubbling under his fingers. "They like you, you know," he stated. When Daxton gives him a questioning look, he continues like it was obvious. "Bill, Richie, Stan, Eddie. Hell, even Ben probably does. The Losers. Band of brothers."

"Oh," is all Daxton says. He's aware he sounds bored and careless. He's also aware he sounds like an asshole because he doesn't care if Charlie's loser friends like him. He knows Derry isn't a permanent home. It's temporary, just a stop along the way until his eighteenth birthday, and he no longer belongs to the foster system.

There's a heavy pause. And then; "You don't have to come with us to the Quarry tomorrow." Charlie is quieter this time as he makes the offer. "I know you don't like making friends, but it's just - "

Suddenly, Daxton breaks. He almost slams the cupboard door shut with force from his newfound anger he couldn't keep down. "No!" He exclaims with more sarcasm than anyone should use unless they're being an asshole. "Really, Charlie, I would love nothing more than to join your friends in stupid Quarry antics for whatever you losers think is fun!" Daxton tries to swallow the words in his throat as if they're a lump, but he can't stop himself. "You don't know shit, Charlie," he finished coldly, all traces of sarcasm gone.

Charlie nearly drops the plate he was holding in the sink full of water as he flinched, surprised by the outburst. The shock turned to hurt. Daxton can see it in his eyes, the way he completely crumbled by how cruel he was being. He struck a bad nerve. But the difference between them was obvious. Charlie is kind, but he's also brave. This time, he does let the plate slip from his hand and fall with a splash in the water.

"Fuck you."

He doesn't say it with boiling fury. His voice only cracks that matches the ache he's feeling. Then Charlie is gone, marching out of the kitchen. Daxton hears his footsteps climb up the stairs heavily and it brings an unfamiliar twist in his stomach of sudden, painful guilt. He knows he fucked up. Charlie and the other Losers have been in Derry much longer than him and endured the bullying that brought them closer together, and there Daxton was, making fun of that pain because of the idea of getting close to someone only to have them be ripped away when he evidently has to move again is too painful to think about.

Daxton clears up the rest of the dishes on his own, in silence. He can't ignore the constant feeling that was eating at him until he felt as raw as the skin of his hands felt from the scrubbing. Charlie had been nothing but kind to him, and so were his friends. Daxton didn't know what made him so likable when he was only an asshole back to them. He didn't know what was wrong with him. There was so much regret he refused to let out, but the emotion desperately looked for a way to break free by the way his eyes burned with tears that he blinked at furiously.

The door to the kitchen quietly swings open with a squeak at the same time Daxton finished. He turned the knob of the sink to shut the stream of water off before turning. He mostly expected to see Charlie with either Miles or Jo, there to scold him for what he said when it's actually Emilia, her arms crossed over her chest. Daxton wrings his handed dry before rolling down his sleeves, his head down in shame. Fuck, he thinks. She must have overheard the whole thing and waited until now.

"You want some ice cream?" Lia asks. Daxton slowly picked his head up again as she crossed the kitchen's tile to open the freezer. He didn't expect that offer. She's still nonchalant in Daxton's eyes, cracking open a container of vanilla ice cream. "Did you clean any bowls?" Daxton nodded back to her question numbly. He's still waiting for Lia to freak out on him, to harp at him for being so brutal to her foster brother.

But she doesn't. It only takes a few minutes but eventually, Daxton and Lia sit in a heavy silence at the dining room table, spoons dug into rolls of creamy pale ice cream. He's barely licked it off the spoon. His hands are shaking, anticipating what was coming. How many times was he fed a treat before something bad happened? More times than he could count on his fingers.

"If you're going to do something, just do it. Get it over with," Daxton broke, spitting out the demand with uneasiness.

To Daxton's astonishment, Lia lets out a short laugh of amusement. It isn't mocking towards him at all. "I'm not trying to do anything," she responded. "It's not like I poisoned your ice cream or anything." Daxton said nothing in reply. He doesn't know how to answer that but it brings his hands to stop their quivering so he can shove a spoonful of the ice cream into his mouth, letting it melt on his tongue. "You should have seen me when I first got here," Lia went on. "I was twelve - foul-mouthed, a huge bitch. Socked Miles in the fucking jaw the first time he tried to hug me. I'm sure you get it."

Daxton did. He didn't like affection, much less liked being touched. But he's seen the relationship between Lia and Miles, how fatherly he was like she was his own daughter. How did that change? "Yeah," he agreed quietly. "I know it was wrong. I just have a lot of..." Daxton wants to slam his fists on the table in frustration. He doesn't know what's wrong with him. "... I don't know. Anger?" He guessed.

"Doesn't excuse you being an asshole," Lia says bluntly.

"I know," Daxton snapped back before he can stop himself. A perfect example. He jabbed the spoon into his bowl, swirling it around the ice cream that was starting to melt faster. "I'll say I'm sorry to him if he'll listen to me, I just don't think anyone here gets it."

"You're in a house full of children fucked up by their parents. We'd understand more than anyone," Lia reminds him. She tucked her hair behind her ear. "You're luckier than you think, Daxton. You don't see that. You're not out on the streets, fighting to find a way to eat. You're not in a bad foster home, afraid of fists or someone sneaking under your blankets at night." Lia's voice grows into the harshness Daxton was waiting to hear like this was something personal to her.

It makes Daxton defensive too. He dropped the spoon in his bowl with a clang against the glass. "I have been in the streets and in shit homes," he argued. And that's the whole fucking point, he wanted to scream. He didn't deserve to be somewhere like this. Daxton knew he didn't deserve a home as nice as this one. Hell, a roof above his head and a bed to sleep in felt too nice for him.

There's another beat of silence. Lia shook her head and finished her ice cream. "And look where you are now," she declared. "We're taking a chance on you. Why don't you give us the same treatment?" Daxton has been stunned into silence. His gaze follows her as she leaves the dining room, disappearing into the kitchen, taking her dishes with her.

God, he felt like such an asshole.

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author's note:

i finally updated something instead of publishing another story! 🎉

daxton shields being an intense "no one understands me" emo reblog if u agree

no but friendly reminder that characters are allowed to make mistakes and realize they fucked up! daxton is emotionally damaged from being neglected and abused his whole life and is doing his best!

- koda

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