Chapter Text
Come a little bit closer,
hear what I have to say.
Just like children sleeping,
we could dream this night away.
Hopper rounds the corner and ducks under the steps, taking a moment to survey the area before he lumbers toward Joyce.
“How the hell are you so small?”
Joyce is sitting down against the wall, knees hugged to her chest. She looks up and bites her lip, feigning deep thought. “Biology? Genetics? Ever heard of it?”
Tapping the box of cigarettes against his palm, he slides down the wall to sit beside her. “Sounds familiar.” He lets her choose the cigarette, playfully rolling his eyes when she pretends like it’s a major decision to be made. He lights the end with practiced precision once the chosen one is resting between her lips.
Joyce takes a long drag, smoke tickling her lungs. Everyone smokes but she often thinks about how they usually do it to seem cool. She does it because her hands shake and something within her creeps up, something that is only extinguished by nicotine. Probably another case of genetics.
Hopper plucks the cigarette from her thin fingers and places it in the corner of his mouth, speaking around it. “What’s wrong?” He nudges her shoulder and she startles a little, her head lolling toward him as she blows smoke into his face.
“Do you think we’ll ever use the quadratic formula in real life?”
Hopper huffs out a laugh, smoke flying out with it. “I know that we won’t.” He passes the cigarette back to her and they sit in silence for a few moments. “My parents are out of town this weekend. Same time?”
A glowing ember is tapped onto the concrete before them. They watch it fizzle out as the distinct sound of teachers get closer to their hideout. Joyce stubs out the cigarette against the brick wall and quickly gets up, yanking at Hopper’s hand and urging him to stand so they can make a speedy escape.
Hopper pulls her back down instead, bringing his knees up to rest his elbows on, mirroring the position he had found Joyce in just minutes earlier and effectively blocking her from sight. A pair of heeled footsteps pass them by without any notice, the voices to match complaining about smartass kids who think they know how the world works.
Joyce slaps the back of her hand into Hopper’s chest once the coast is clear. “We could’ve made it. What if they saw us?” She hisses but takes his hand anyway and is pulled to her feet.
“You’re so small they wouldn’t even see you. And me?” He grins at her with that dumb smile that gets him out of a lot of things. “They don’t care what I do.”
“Smartass.” She pushes by, leaving him behind. “I’ll see you later.”
The bus stops on the main street and Joyce has a 15 minute walk down the dirt road until she gets to her house. No one else lives on her stretch so she enjoys the quiet walk. Hopper promises her that he’ll drive her home every day next year, he’s certain that his dad will pass his old car down to him and they’ll be able to drive wherever they want, whenever they want.
Winter has reared its ugly head and retreated back into the darkness. The sounds of spring accompany Joyce as she kicks a rock along the way, stops to pet Mrs. Mathers dog at the dingy white picket fence, and eventually makes it to her house. There’s an extra car in the driveway and Joyce falters a little. She recognizes the car immediately and debates turning back around to start the long walk to Hopper’s, but the front door flies open before she gives it too much thought.
“Joyce? Is that you?”
The man is holding his hand above his eyes in an attempt to block the sun as he steps off the porch. Joyce really wants to make a run for it but she rolls her shoulders back and proceeds down the driveway.
“Uncle Frank, I didn’t know you were in town!” She puts on a false tone of excitement. She couldn’t care less about the man. He wasn’t an actual relative, just an old friend of her dad who dropped in every now and then, bringing with him a slew of unforgiving qualities that brought out the worst in her parents.
He jogs down the driveway and meets her halfway with a whistle. “Sweet, little Joyce. Would you look at that.” He slowly circles her with a wandering gaze and stops in front of her, placing his hands on his hips. “You’ve grown quite a bit since I’ve seen you last.”
Joyce clutches her books to her chest and bites her tongue. She was feeling uneasy under his gaze and wanted to yell at him and make a run for it. Instead of spitting some smart line that would definitely get her in trouble, Joyce smiles and starts heading for the front door. She gasps when he catches her arm and pulls her back to him.
“Aren’t you forgetting something, little Joyce?” His grip tightens and she so badly wants to kick him where it counts but he’s much stronger than her and she doesn’t know how well she would fair. She instead gives in and places a kiss on his cheek, something she has done ever since she was a little girl, long before he started looking at her differently, watching her every move with narrowed eyes.
He slings his arm around her shoulder and leads her along, stopping at his car to get a tattered duffel bag out of his backseat. “I was passing through and decided to stop and say hello. Your mom called your dad and I’m welcome to stay for the weekend. Isn’t that nice?” He squeezes her a little tighter, as if trying to force the words out of her.
“Real nice.” Joyce mutters. He smells like he took a dip in a pool of vodka and her shoulder is damp where his underarm is resting. Her skin crawls and she wishes she had walked home a little slower, maybe she wouldn’t have landed herself in this situation. He wouldn’t try anything in front of her mom. At least she thinks. Speaking of her mom, the door opens once more as she and Frank are stepping foot onto the porch.
“Oh, sweetheart!” She rushes forward and takes Joyce into her arms. She too smells like a liquor store and Joyce rolls her eyes. She doesn’t know how long Frank has been in their house but he has already started his conquest. “I was hoping to surprise you, but I guess Frank ruined it! I certainly was surprised!” Her mother giggles like a child when she releases Joyce from her bone crushing hug and places her hands on her shoulders, shaking Joyce as she speaks. “Oh, I missed you so much, honey! Did you have a good day at school?”
Joyce nods as she’s dragged back into the house with Frank following close behind.
Hopper drives past Joyce’s driveway and continues down the dirt road for a little until he’s about a half mile away. He’s surprised to see she isn’t already there as tardiness is one of his many qualities. He doesn’t pull up to her house because he knows her parents would rat him out for driving around in a car that wasn’t even his. Benny had been fixing up this truck for fun and lent it to him for the weekend.
He gets out to sit in the bed of it while he waits for Joyce. He’s always been a little jealous of her neighborhood, if you could call it that. The Hoppers live in a cul de sac with nosy people that always have something to say. He likes the idea of living away from town with an acre or two between you and your closest neighbor.
When they were younger, Joyce and Hopper would stomp through the woods together playing make believe and enjoying the fresh air and freedom that came with miles of untouched land. He much preferred it to his backyard where his mother would often tell them to keep it down or else the neighbors would complain.
Thirty minutes and a cigarette later, Hopper gets back into the truck to drive by Joyce’s again. It’s getting dark and he doesn’t want her walking alone. He turns the car around and drives for a few seconds before he sees her off in the distance. The car rolls to a stop alongside Joyce, who has her arm extended, thumb up in clear sight.
Hopper leans out of the window and nods. “Where you headed?” Joyce rushes around to the other side of the truck, climbs in, and tosses her bag in the back. She slumps in the seat as Hopper accelerates down the road, dust flying and gravel crunching as they go.
“Sorry, I know you were waiting for a while.” She sighs and runs her hands through her hair, sitting back up to switch the radio station. “Frank’s in town.”
Hopper comes to a stop at the end of the road. “Are you okay?” She’s still twisting the dials but he knows she’s just playing with the radio to distract herself. He puts the car in park and pulls her hand from the controls. “Hey.”
Joyce looks to him with a smile. “It’s fine, Hop. Keep driving.” When he doesn’t, she shakes her head and looks over his shoulder, focusing on a mailbox in the distance as she lets go of his hand. “Dad had to work late and I couldn’t leave my mom alone with Frank. She was already three sheets to the wind when I got home from school.” She turns back in her seat to face forward. “I don’t trust him.”
Clenching his jaw, Hopper shifts back into drive and turns onto the main road, gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles pale.
“Where did they go this time?” Joyce grabs a glass from the cabinet and accepts the pitcher of lemonade from Hopper who turns back to riffle through the fridge some more.
“Visiting my great aunt.” He produces two pale yellow tupperware containers and places them on the counter. “I never met her so I didn’t have to go.” They’re meticulously labeled because his mom doesn’t trust him to not burn down the house or starve even though he can easily manage warming up food. “Okay, so we have,” he reads the labels and raises the corresponding tupperware, “chicken and broccoli casserole or lasagna.”
Joyce gives him a knowing look and he laughs. “I was going to make it anyway. Just wanted to give you options.” He preheats the oven and finds a dish to slide the lasagna into. He feels her eyes on him as he moves around the kitchen. “What?”
“How come your mom always makes lasagna when they go out of town?” She already knows the answer.
Hopper shrugs as he grabs the glass from her hands and takes a sip. “Because it’s your favorite.”
An hour later, Joyce spreads a comforter out in the backyard while Hopper takes their plates back inside. She thinks about what her parents are doing back at her house and feels so relieved that she can stay here while Frank wreaks havoc. They won’t care that she’s not around, they won’t even notice that she’s gone.
She wonders if the Hoppers know that she spends most of her time here when they’re out of town. They’re not stupid. But they do like her which is good. They’ve known her for years. And though they’d never mention it, they know that Joyce has to escape her home for a little bit every now and then.
“Flo just came to the door.” Hopper pads through the grass barefoot and offers Joyce one of his sweaters because she always gets cold when they do this. “She was wondering whose truck was parked in the driveway.” He plops down beside Joyce, stretching all his limbs out like a starfish. “She said she won’t tell my mom. I don’t know why she does that.”
Joyce laughs as she pulls the sweater on, the fabric drowning her and smelling so distinctly of Hopper. “Because she wants to make sure her friend’s son is safe while she’s away.” She lies down beside him, resting her head on his arm and scooting closer until she can feel his warmth. “You’d do the same thing.”
Hopper looks down at her and then back up at the sky. The stars are so bright against the blackness, illuminating the night. “I won’t have a son to keep an eye on.”
“A daughter?”
Hopper shakes his head. “No kids. They’re too much trouble.”
He says it so seriously that Joyce can’t help but laugh. “Hop, you are a kid.”
“Exactly,” he says as he pulls her closer, “first hand experience. I can’t deal with a mini me.” He sighs and counts the stars for a little, Joyce drawing patterns across his chest. “I just want to live my life, you know? Get out of Hawkins and explore the world. See what’s out there.”
Joyce hums at his side. “Yeah, I think everyone wants to get out of here.” A majority of the high school students in their small town feel that way. The rest are either content to live it out in rural Indiana or scared. Scared of the unknown.
“Do you?”
Joyce glances up at Hopper, catches his stare, and sits up. He rolls over on his side, propping his head up with his hand as he waits for her to speak. She breaks away from his gaze and balls the fabric of the sweater into her fists. “I don’t know.” Her voice is so quiet. “Don’t know if I could.”
“What do you mean?” Hopper frowns.
“I don’t know.” She lies back down and closes her eyes. “I would if I could.”
“Joyce, I don’t get what you’re saying.” Now Hopper is the one sitting up, staring down at her, and urging her to help him understand.
“Yes you do, Hop. I know you do. How am I going to get out of here? With what? My charm and good looks? Is that how I’m gonna do it?” She props herself up on her elbows and blinks at him. “Some people just don’t make it out, you know?”
Hopper’s mouth hangs open but it presses into a hard line before he speaks. “You’ll make it out. We’ll make it out of here. I’ll make sure you get out of here.”
The words come out with such insistence that she wants to believe him. She knows she’s being dramatic and all too introspective for a Friday night, but she’s always thinking about what comes next for her. How she’ll make her move into the adult world after they graduate high school or if she’ll even make it there at all.
She laughs to try and lighten the mood. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Jim Hopper.”
He doesn’t give in though. Stares at her with those blue eyes. Communicating to her that he means it. “You think I’m joking? Because I’m not, Joyce. That falls on you. You know that I mean it.”
And she does. Joyce reaches out to him and he lies by her side once again. She rolls on top of him, pressing her bony elbows into his chest to look down at him as he speaks. He closes his arms around her and shifts a little.
“We’ll move to the city. Work for a year or two. Save up some money. And then we’ll travel. See the world. Be strangers in new places. Live our lives.”
Joyce places her hands on either side of Hopper’s face and smiles down at him. He’s searching her eyes for confirmation that she doesn’t think he’s crazy. She leans down and presses a light kiss to his lips before wrapping her arms around him, burying her face in the crook his neck.
“We can do it, Joyce.” She feels the words rumble in his chest. “You and me.”
She’s not sure that it’s possible, but it’s nice to dream.