― 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒃𝒐𝒚.
❝ and he knows
that a boy who
likes boys is
a dead boy.
unless he keeps
his mouth shut. ❞
or, in which daxton shields's heart is an abandoned house that new friends want to rebuild & mov...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
DEAD BOY (book one). °• CHAPTER FOUR •°
" RICHIE TOZIER, YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD! "
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
SO, THE FIRST STEP IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION OF REALIZING WHAT AN ASSHOLE HE WAS BEING WAS FOR DAXTON TO ADMIT THAT CHARLIE'S FRIENDS WEREN'T SO BAD. Sure, Daxton wanted to cover his face with a couch pillow and scream when Eddie went on a ten-minute long lecture about washing your hands after using the bathroom the first time he met him. Daxton wanted to tear his hair out when Richie wouldn't stop with the fucking puns he couldn't resist saying. Stan and Bill weren't often on Daxton's nerves - but they were like Charlie too. They could be too nice, and he got that feeling from Ben too. But there was nothing wrong with being kind, was there? Daxton couldn't criticize that. After all, the world could use more of it and less of his own bitterness.
The door feels even heavier when Daxton pushes on it. Maybe it's the weight resting over his shoulders, making his muscles stiff. A part of him hopes that Charlie is fast asleep despite the early time to procrastinate giving him an apology. However, the weight is more crushing when he sees that luck isn't on his side. Charlie is wide-awake, flipping through what Daxton guessed was a sports magazine by the basketball on the cover. He thumbs at the pages without looking up at the sound of the door opening.
After it's shut, he fiddles with his fingers and shuffled awkwardly before mumbling out, "I'm sorry."
That had Charlie's attention. His dark eyes finally flicker over the magazine, landing on Daxton. He dropped it to cup one hand over his ear as if he didn't hear. "Oh, sorry, what was that?" He asked sarcastically.
He sounds so much like Daxton, matching his sarcasm for a moment, that he manages to crack a faint smile. Charlie's joking. That's a good sign... He thinks. Maybe he doesn't completely hate his guts. "I'm a dickhead, okay?" Daxton admitted. He crossed the room they shared until he was standing across from his bed. "I try not to be. Sometimes I say things I don't mean. But..." He cut himself off when he remembered his earlier conversation with Lia. He wasn't the only kid under this roof struggling. "... Just because I didn't have it easy doesn't excuse me being an asshole. So, I'm sorry," Daxton repeated, more clear this time.
Charlie is quiet as he processes this. He rested his chin over the palm of his hand, elbow dug deep into the mattress spring. Then he shrugged. "Okay." And shuffled back, tapping his bed.
