I GOT YOU, BROTHER.

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

"        YOU'RE OKAY, BROTHER.       "

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DAXTON HAS NEVER REALLY LOST SOMEONE. His father abandoned him, sure, he was separated from his mother, and he's had to lose friends here and there on his adventures of bouncing from foster houses, but he's never had someone he cared about die. His grandparents were dead long before he was born, he's an only child, as were his parents. He imagines it's an awful feeling, knowing someone you love is never going to come back because Daxton has only grieved the loss of people still alive and choose to never return. However, he can't even start to understand how Bill Denbrough must feel with every bit of new information they gather, other than he desperately wants to believe his little brother is still alive despite all the red alarms blaring out facts that Georgie Denbrough is just one of those beings that are never going to come back. And Daxton doesn't blame him because he's never lost a sibling.

There's not a single person who has the heart to tell Bill so and turn him away when he calls for a Losers meeting in his garage. Daxton, who was still running on a high from watching the fireworks, takes the trip with Charlie on their bikes to the Denbrough home where Bill was waiting. The ride has mostly been full of silence other than the squeaks of their bike's chains, neither of them knowing what to say until Daxton breaks it because he's feeling very brave and possibly a little stupid.

"Can I ask you about it?" He speaks up with his eyes locked on the road, pretending he doesn't notice Charlie bringing his attention towards the side of his face for a few seconds and make a hum of questioning. Daxton sighs because he respects Charlie's feelings and would never force him to explain something he didn't want to, but his curiosity is getting the best of him with everything going on. "You know what I mean," he says. "About It. The dog, Nala, or - whatever."

It's quiet again for a while. Daxton thinks he fucked up and hit a nerve in his foster brother. He's prepared to ride in silence again, thinking Charlie wouldn't answer, but then he suddenly does. "Rough times," he begins after a few pumps of his legs against the pedals. "My mom's boyfriend had this dog that was just a little terror." Daxton waits patiently as Charlie gets out whatever he kept bottled up for so long. "I'm not... Jesus, I don't think every dog out there is aggressive. Nala isn't. She's what made me think I wasn't, you know, a freak for being afraid and all." Charlie snorted. "Until now."

Daxton can feel his stomach churn like he'll be sick. Jesus, and he thought his parents sucked. "I'm sorry that happened," is all he can manage to say quietly.

"Don't be," Charlie immediately dismissed. "Pain is pain. Fear is fear. We'll never need to compare it, right?" Daxton nodded because he can't find any other words. There's no apology that can make up for trauma and he knows this just as much as Charlie because no pain can outweigh someone else's. So Daxton leaves it there and lets the conversation end because he figures what was coming had to be much worse than whatever fear they still had lingering.

The garage door is already open. Daxton can see that as soon as they turn the corner of the street's curb and meet their destination. There's already a pile of bikes on the freshly cut lawn with beds of blooming flowers, and two more join before they pass the open door. Bill is hunched over, attempting to figure out the box of a projector with his lips pressed firmly together. Mike is helping, trying to direct him, as Ben stood above them, sorting through a box of film. What mostly catches Daxton's attention, however, is how the windows are covered with draping blankets to block out the sun.

He cocks an eyebrow at the sight and asks, "What's this? Trying to murder us without any witnesses?" Because if he's going to leave this world, he prays it isn't by being murdered in the Denbrough's garage.

Charlie gave Daxton a light shove to his lower back so he stumbles inside. "It's for the projector, dumbass," he answers for Bill to protect his friend's feelings.

The garage turns dark barely a minute later. It was dusty, full of boxes with labels scrawled in marker that had been kicked to the side and replaced with a line of chairs. Daxton doesn't see the map taped to the wall that the chairs were pointed at until he sat on a wooden seat, listening to the quiet creak under his weight, next to Charlie's chosen stool. It was a big one alright, covering nearly the whole plaster. It's for the sewer system. The rest of the Losers gathered around, either standing by the projector like Mike and Bill or sitting as well. Daxton is careful to shift closer to Charlie so his head doesn't block the beaming light once it shone through the lens as it came to life when Mike flicked the switch.

The display borrowed from Ben slides into the machine and there are suddenly labels scattered across the paper. "Okay. Look," Bill directs them. He pointed to a small, black X scrawled and labeled as Storm Drain on the projection. "That's where G... Geor-Georgie disappeared. There's the Ironworks - " He moves on to a black and white image that looks like the scratches from a pencil called The Black Spot. "And the Black Spot. Everywhere it happens, it's-it's all connected by the sewers, and they all meet up at - "

Ben's eyes are wide with either fear or amazement at every answer coming together from all of his questions about his research. "The Well House," he whispers, finishing for Bill what he can't say and unintentionally cutting him off.

"The house on Neibolt Street," Stan said softly.

Daxton has been in Derry for exactly four months, two weeks, and five days, and he knows exactly what the house on Neibolt street is because there isn't a single resident there who doesn't. But it was treated like a secret and only whispered about or ignored. No one has lived in it since it was there, and no one really bothered to tear it down even though it should have been long ago. It was so old that Daxton thinks it must have been there since Derry was, well, Derry. It was even fucking rotting and yet, no one did anything. He's passed it only once on the other side of the gate that bounded it like a wild animal. Daxton had paused, eyes glazing through the wired holes. His curiosity died down pretty damn quickly because for some reason the house looked alive like the door was its mouth and the windows were its eyes, and he moved on, refusing to look behind him in case he was right. Until now.

"You mean the creepy-ass house where all the junkies and hobos like to sleep?" Richie pointed out with a disgusted face. That causes Eddie to make a choking noise, trembling fingers struggling to unzip his fanny pack. He fumbles around it until he can yank out his inhaler, immediately bringing it to his parted lips and jamming the button a few times to breathe in the medication.

A shudder washes over Beverly that brings her muscles to tense as if they suddenly became stiff from a light breeze. "I hate that place," she confesses over Eddie. She rubs the palms of her hands over her upper thighs unsurely. "It always feels like it's watching me."

"Maybe it is," Daxton pondered out loud. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was alive or maybe there was something inside of it that was something awful, something terrible. And it all had to do with...

"That's where I saw It," Eddie gasped out, his lower lip quivering. He struggled to breathe from his position being hunched over but he still pants shakily, "That's where I saw the clown."

The corners of Charlie's lips tug downwards into a frown and he gently stretches his legs so he can tap Eddie's knee with the tip of his sneaker's sole. Daxton knows he would have been out of his seat in seconds to comfort the one panicking if he thought for a second it'd help, but they both know Eddie would shove him off as if an embrace would make him suffocate. "The leper?" Charlie instead asks him quietly, to which Eddie rapidly nodded in return.

"Tha-tha-that-that's where It lives," Bill struggled to announce. Daxton can hear the fright hidden in his undertone but it's overpowered with something else, something stronger - hope. He's hoping his little brother was there, alive, waiting for Bill to bring him home safely even though it's been months, eight, Daxton thinks. But he wasn't here to see what the Denbroughs lost. Hell, he's never even met Georgie. He feels guilty simply because he knows the child is dead without solid proof.

Another strangled noise escapes from a lump in Eddie's throat that he quiets with another puff from his inhaler as Stan murmured, "I can't imagine anything wanting to live there."

Suddenly, Eddie sprang out of his seat like someone lit a fire. Charlie jumped and yanked his foot away as his friend shot forward so he could block the projector's light that illuminates his terrified face in return. "Can we stop talking about this?! I can barely breathe!" He exclaimed in an anxious wheeze. "It's summer, we're kids, I can barely breathe! I'm having a fucking asthma attack!" Eddie's hands wave through the air as the words come out so fast they're pretty much a jumbled mess. "I am not fucking doing this!"

Daxton can barely keep up with Eddie's words, so he's still processing them as Eddie spun and rips the paper off the wall in one fluid motion. It slips from his fingers and crumples to the ground as Bill stared at him incredulously. "What the hell?! Put the map back!" He demanded with a finger jabbed at him. Eddie made a small, frightened noise even though his lips were tightly pressed together and stubbornly shook his head.

Silence falls like a curtain over them, and it's only broken when the projector clicks, the light flashing. Daxton noticed Bill's hands weren't even near the box so he couldn't have pressed the button or even accidentally grazed it. His thoughts are confirmed when Bill looks more confused as the projection clicks again, and again, then once more, before an image appears behind Eddie's form, beaming on the blank wall. It holds none other than a little boy and middle-aged man with full grins, dressed in baseball uniforms.

Eddie backs away in horror and retreats to the group, but his expression is nothing compared to the heartbreak etched in Bill's features. Daxton takes a guess that the child with full cheeks and a bright look was none other than little Georgie Denbrough.

It was as if the pictures were moving on their own. Bill couldn't move, paralyzed as another picture pops up, this time of the Denbrough family at an amusement park. Daxton didn't know what the fuck was going on, but whatever it was, he wanted it to stop. Multiple pictures started flying by of the family trip they must have taken by the time one of them has the strength to move. Mike is oddly calm as he takes over for Bill and starts fidgeting with the box. "I got it," he offered. "Hold on."

But it doesn't change anything. The ticks of pictures flashing by picks up on the very last one until it's rapid. Daxton only moves when one hand lowers to clutch the edge of his chair, frozen where he sat because his fight or flight instinct has been thrown out the window and replaced with terror. The other hand is grasped by Charlie until his fingers are so tightly woven around his foster brother's wrist he believes his bone would be bruised. The four members of the Denbrough family remain on the wall as the light begins flickering faster than anyone could control. They're holding hands, seemingly stumbling down a slope of green with a large building behind them. It's only clicking faster as it zooms into Georgie's smiling face.

It's almost like a message. "Georgie," Bill gasped so quietly and full of pain it was like someone had seized him by the throat.

No one moves even a muscle, not at first. Daxton, who wanted to scream and demand to know what's fucking happening, doesn't. He's afraid he isn't even breathing as the lens shift to who must have been Bill's mother. Her face wasn't shown due to the long hair flowing on what must have been a windy day, so it's covered with a sheet of bronze-red strands. It zooms in as it had with Georgie's face until it looks as if her hair is now moving, brushing away from what is revealed to be a ghastly face that becomes paler than a ghost.

It sweeps across the face again, but this time it isn't Bill's mother. It now displays another face that sends them finally able to find control of their own bodies and jump up, screaming.

The color in Daxton's face starts to drain as Charlie yanks him out of his chair and without letting go of his hand, they back away from the picture. He wants to turn away, to shut his eyes, but he can't seem to do either. The face staring back at him resembles the very same clown he encountered that day at the park, the one that chased him down like he was a meal. Yellow cat eyes, It's skin whiter than chalk, the scars of red drawn through Its eyes to Its full lips, the jaw crooked. It can somehow still hold a sinister grin.

It's Richie who finally screams words instead of petrified sounds like the rest of them were. "What the fuck?! What the fuck is that?!"

"I don't fucking know!" Eddie screams back, their hands engulfing one another's shirts.

Daxton reaches the end of whatever this was. He can snap out of whatever hold the clown has on him long enough to scream over Richie and Eddie so his voice could reach anyone in the room. "Fucking turn it off!" He doesn't give a single shit who does it, but he's too far from the projector to do it himself, and Charlie has a death grip that had moved up to his arm.

This brings the rest of them to realize the box was the source of their problems and how the clown was reaching them. "Turn it off!" Beverly shouted at Bill whose shoes seemed to become cemented to the ground despite the shouting from all directions at him.

"Turn it off!"

Mike takes the jump. He lunges, kicking the small table the projector had been resting on, sending it soaring to the garage's floor. It smashes at the impact, bringing the slide pictures to scatter in a pile around it. The light from the lens is now curved from the way it fell on the opposite wall, shining next to Stan. Daxton swears the rate of his heart that had started pounding through his ribs starts to slow. However, he jumps when the projector he thought for sure was broken beyond repair clicks again, and the light flashes.

An image of It, blurry, showcases. It clicks slower than before as if It was taunting them, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Each time it was dark, Daxton pants like he'll never be given the chance to breathe again. He doesn't know if he will when it snaps one last time, leaving the wall blank, before turning off completely, leaving the Losers in the dark that only mocks their fright and leaves them unsettled.

It was no bad dream when all of a sudden, the clown pops out of the wall, larger than humanely possible, gloved hands planting on the ground, all flesh and no picture or memory from a nightmare.

A terrified scream builds from Daxton's gut and erupts through his throat, bouncing off of the enclosed walls only to mix with the piercing sound of the others doing the same out of terror. The teeth are pointer than needles and It shows them off behind a bloody grin, drool pooling from the corners of Its lips. The bright yellow eyes glow in the dark, darting from each of them before lastly landing on Stan, realizing he was the closest to It.

Stan doesn't move until It cocks his overly large head, twisting the rest of Its body, as the rest of his friends shout for him to run! He takes off to the back of the garage where they are crowded as a terrified bunch, and Daxton feels Stan's body ram into his just as the light from the projector's camera starts swiftly flashing again, somehow making the clown seem even bigger. It's like Its growing to fill and fit itself in the area as Its fists pound against the concrete until It's on all fours, crawling Its way into the garage.

The snarling noise It makes is so animalistic, so much louder than any scream they could possibly let free, like a deadly echo. It finds Its target when Beverly, the only girl in the group, had separated from the group of boys inches away from their side of the wall. Her back hits a tall shelf of tools as the clown becomes close enough to touch. The arm Charlie had in his grip is released so he can throw himself in the line of fire, somehow shielding both Daxton and Stan behind him to be out of the clown's view. Daxton's hands fly up to catch Charlie's shirt, his trembling fingers clenching the cloth as if he could be ripped away from him at any moment.

This was how it ends, Daxton fears, with Its arm outstretching towards Beverly, a single hand close to seizing her. Beverly cowers, sinking down against the case, burying her face stained with tears into the palms of her shaking hands. Daxton wonders if this is how he learns to grieve, to live with the guilt if he somehow makes it because he was so terrified that he couldn't move his trembling legs that are seconds from giving out so he could save his friend or even protect the rest of them. Because Daxton Shields was the coward of all cowards, afraid of dying if the alive clown got any closer. All he can do is stand there, full of unspeakable terror, and wait for the end to come.

But then it doesn't.

The garage door slides open and Daxton topples over from where he was leaning on it for support, and he almost takes down Charlie with him from the tight hold on him that slips through his fingers. He barely catches himself, the skin of his hands scraping against dirt across the concrete. A light brighter than anything the projection could provide fills the room - the sun. The warmth of it kisses Daxton's skin as a slight breeze brushes through his hair. The burst of energy is what saves them because he blinks, and the clown is gone, nothing there to prove it was ever coming out of the wall in the first place.

At some point, Ben and Mike must have decided to open the garage door and let the sunshine in. Daxton doesn't question how it made any sense because it worked. It's gone. A dry sob falls from his lips and tears sting behind his eyes. He was still afraid, so afraid it was like the emotion became a part of his bloodstream, but now he's overwhelmed with it all. Daxton's body was never made to handle this much fear.

There's a gentle hand around Daxton's elbow that tries to guide him onto his feet. "Dax, are you okay?" It's Charlie who asks, deeply concerned, and equally afraid. "Dax, come - come on." He gives a soft tug to his limb.

"Fuck," is all Daxton can cry back. The flesh of his hands that had been scratched stings as he scrambles to grasp Charlie's so he can stand. He gives a weak sniffle, shoulders slumping as he tries to catch the breath he lost.

"Shhh," Charlie hushed him so quietly that no one else catches it. Beverly manages to get on her feet too with her hand pressed over the spot on her chest where her heart was, but Charlie's movement goes unnoticed by the others as he leaned forward to press his forehead against the other. Charlie has to stand on his tiptoes to get the task done, but the touch is warm, comforting, and exactly what Daxton needs. "We're okay, yeah? You're okay, brother," he soothes him in a whisper.

And Daxton knows the fact that Charlie called him brother is much smaller compared to what just happened but he can't help let the name worm into his skull and make a home. He's never had what he and Charlie have. Daxton could deny it but the truth was there. He let Charlie in, let him see the worst parts of him, in a way that he's never let anyone do. Shared DNA didn't make a family. They knew that more than anyone.

They were brothers, and not because they shared the same blood - what brought them together was something much stronger; choice. They didn't need to have the same parents to be brothers. It's so strong that it's like a wave of energy is brought from Charlie straight to Daxton from the touch, and he's brought to ease in mere seconds.

It was such a wrong time to realize it, but Daxton does. He'd do anything for Charlie, and given that he threw himself like a shield over Daxton in front of the clown, he knows the feeling isn't only one-sided.

"Okay - it's, I'm okay," Daxton struggles to choke out despite knowing that was bullshit. He doesn't know if it's either fear or being so overwhelmed with emotions that brought the noise. Charlie only pulls away to make sure and even though he sees the pieces of Daxton Shields are cracked, shattered almost, he doesn't comment on it.

Beverly's hand bounces from Mike's to Ben's shoulder as she thanks them both for saving her life. Then she launches at Bill, burying her face into his neck as he returns the hug. Daxton inhales a shaky breath, using the back of his hand to wipe at his wet eyes, ignoring the prickly feeling that arises across his skin. He already knows it's shredded, maybe bleeding, but he doesn't care. Not right now. It seemed like a microscopic problem compared to everything else which Eddie doesn't hold back announcing.

"It saw us! It saw us, and It knows where we are!" He freaked with his inhaler clutched tightly in one hand.

"It always did," Bill insisted after he pulls away from Beverly's embrace. He's the only one acting calm enough like they didn't all nearly just lose their lives seconds ago from a clown crawling out of the fucking wall. But Bill's the leader, the only rational one, and Daxton would appreciate that about him in any other moment other than right now. His next order doesn't make things any better either, "So let's go."

The Losers stare in sudden disbelief as Bill marched out of the garage to where their bikes were still toppled over, waiting, expecting them to follow him. "Go?" Ben uttered after him in an echo. "Go where?"

"Neibolt," Bill responded urgently as if it was the clearest answer in the world. "That's where G-G-Geor... Georgie is."

"After that?!" Stan practically demands in a yell. His arm outstretches behind him to gesture at the mess inside of the garage behind them.

Richie nodded and adjusts the frame of his glasses that became askew after the attack, better yet, the near-death experience. "Yeah, it's summer," he agreed. His normally loud and outspoken voice is gone, replaced with a wavering tone, an oddly quiet one. It truly pangs Daxton to see him in that state. He never wants him to feel like this again. "We should be outside - "

The sorrowful features crossing Bill's face turn into flashes of anger. "If you say it's summer one more f-f-fuh-fucking time..." He warned Richie with a shaking hand curling to a tightly clenched fist. He gritted his teeth before shaking his head. Then Bill gave up. He doesn't care if any of his friends follow him. He's leaving with or without them on a suicide mission. He grabs his bike and takes off, throwing one of his legs over, steadying the handlebars.

"Bill! Wait!" Beverly desperately calls, but it's useless. Bill's gone as soon as his legs start pumping, disappearing, following the road to Neibolt.

Daxton doesn't know if he can do it. He doesn't think he can follow Bill to the house on Neibolt street just because he thinks his little brother is there. He swallows thickly and spares a glance at Charlie, uncertain, but then he sees the look on his brother's face. Charlie was selfless, braver than he ever was, and even though he's scared beyond belief, he can see he's willing to follow Bill to the ends of the Earth if he had to. And Daxton could never let his brother run into the line of fire alone. He couldn't let any of his friends do this without him.

So the Shields boy, knowing he's out of his mind, follows them in gathering their bikes to follow the trail left behind after that damn rotting house - because Losers, families, they stick together.

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author's note:

currently crying at the fact daxton finally admits to himself charlie is his brother.

also crying cause i should probably update something else i haven't touched in weeks or even months but like ,,, daxton shields?? enough said.

i'm really active in the it fandom which is a shame since it's sort of dying. i still really want to write another it fic and i have lots of ideas in my plot shop to take from, but i can't decide!! let me know what thoughts you guys have. i'd love to write another it fic, especially one for maybe beverly!!

also feel free to recommend me your it stories if you have any! i'll gladly check them out in my free time! ❤️

- koda

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