― 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...
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DEAD BOY (book one). °• CHAPTER TWENTY •°
" I HATE YOU! YOU RUINED MY FUCKING LIFE! "
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IT'S BEEN WAY TOO LONG SINCE DAXTON SHIELDS LAST HAD A SIP OF ALCOHOL. His alcoholism used to be his coping mechanism. It was the only filling that eased the darkness inside of him that slowly grew after his tour. He always knew there was something more, something he hadn't discovered yet because he simply couldn't remember. Until now, that he was in Derry, Daxton finally realized what it was, what he was trying to hide. Fear. It's what held him back. And he thought recovery was hard in the beginning, but nothing compared to the pain of staring dead straight into an amber bottle with a dry mouth, his heartstrings tugging towards it.
Daxton had been eyeing the bottle of whiskey for too long because it's suddenly whisked out of his view. He scowled at the thief with a strangled, "Hey!"
"Tough shit," Charlie deadpanned. He slammed the bottle back in place so hard it should have shattered instead of shook before giving the only warning Daxton was going to get. "Take a single sip, and we'll have to take you to the hospital to have it removed from your - "
"If that shit touches me you'll have to have it removed from your - "
Daxton shook his head in a rapid motion as if to rid the memory as it starts to pop up. It'd only make his urge stronger. He's fought with Charlie before over quitting booze. He won't do it again. Besides, he didn't want the other Losers to see him like that, the ones who were here, anyway. They were scattered around the hotel in preparation to book it, rummaging for their bags, taking shots, or missing, like Bill and Mike. Daxton didn't bother to move from the barstool. He's afraid one step he took would be towards the wrong direction.
"He's right," Beverly mumbles. "It doesn't help." She tips her head back and swallows another shot, letting the burning liquid take away the feelings. Daxton can't help the jealousy that forms in his gut. He just had to be an alcoholic in the past which meant he couldn't drink the pain away now, huh?
The stool next to Daxton suddenly shifts with Ben's weight. He's uninterested in the brothers who don't exist to him at that moment. His gaze is locked on Beverly. "Tell me," is all he says.
"Tell you what?" Beverly asks. Anyone can see she's playing clueless.
"Whatever it is you're afraid to tell me right now."
Beverly almost immediately spun on her heel and slams the bottle of alcohol on the shelf again. Ben's eyes trail after her as she storms off. "Bev, when you called Stanley's wife - " He jumps out of his chair again to stop her with his hands up. Daxton's eyebrows furrow when he sees her flinch. He faintly remembers how easily he noticed that look, that reaction, in others who jump when someone moves too quickly. Others who have been beaten, degraded.
