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He never thought he’d be back here. He never wanted to be back here.
But after losing everything, including his job in the city, he decided he’d had enough of the heartbreak of New York City.
Although, he’d nearly favor being down and out in New York over the whispers and looks from the citizens of Hawkins. Pretty much all of it is speculation—the only one who really knows is his father.
And even that wasn’t much because Jack Hopper didn’t care about much anymore. After the death of his mother back in ‘69, Jim’s father made a rapid decline in…well, everything. Once this strong, fierce, formidable chief of police, that the whole town looked up to, was now nothing more than a memory. Jack officially retired in ‘75 as his memory began to putter and his vivacity fizzled. Jim put him in a home that same year—early onset dementia they called it, though if you asked anyone here, they’d tell you it was a broken heart.
The great thing was that Jack’s inability to hold a thought or memory boded well for Jim because he could unburden every dark thought and feeling and it would disappear just minutes later. Though, it meant that he’d never feel satisfied because no one could console him from the loss of Sara. He’s had war buddies try to reach out to him. Even Diane has made a couple attempts. But there’s just no one—not even the people who would understand the most—that he could just talk to.
So he doesn’t really talk.
Instead, he drowns his sorrows in beer and these little pills called klono-something. They help, the pills, he feels calmer just like the doctor said he would. Then again, the doctor also told him he probably shouldn’t drink when taking them either but Jim Hopper has never been one to follow the rules.
At least he’s fucking taking them.
He pops one into his mouth as he pulls up to the Hideaway bar. His shift was over for the night and he’d decided not to go visit his father at the home tonight. He just wanted to relax and fuck off for the evening, to drown himself in cheap beer and bury himself in whatever woman threw herself at him. It sounded like a nice night to him.
He stumbles his way out of his truck and into the crowded bar. There are familiar faces and even a few cheers for him when he enters. To the people here, he’s a goddamned hero. He was in the war. They didn’t need to know specifics, they didn’t need to know what he did. All they needed to know was that he was over there in that god forsaken jungle and for that he was an American hero.
The joke’s on them. He’s not a hero. Or at least he doesn’t feel like one. After everything, he really just feels like shit.
He knows he was just doing what he was told and deep down, he even knows that it’s not his fault for what happened to him and many of his friends. But he knew and that was criminal enough.
To them, he’s a hero. But to himself, to Diane and to his daughter… he’s a murderer.
Jim finds a seat at the bar, not quite ready to mingle with the crowds at the pool tables. Andy, the barman, wordlessly passes him a glass of beer and nods.
“Hey there Chief-o!” Jim hears beside him. It’s Larry Kline, a prick that Jim went to school with and the recently elected mayor.
“Hey, Lar.” Jim mumbles to the man beside him.
“How’s the new job going?”
Jim knows this is a ploy to get him to sing Larry’s praises. He most certainly wouldn’t have absolutely smoked Calvin Powell for the chief position if it hadn’t been for Larry. He wants to believe that Larry’s fondness for Jim was for his heroic duty over in Vietnam, but he’s got a sneaking suspicion that Larry Kline is a racist. Plus, if Larry secured the chief spot for him, then Jim would have no choice but to be under Larry’s thumb, which is precisely where he wanted him.
Larry wouldn’t have been as successful buying Powell into his schemes. They both know that. This was mutually beneficial.
Jim just shrugs in response to Larry’s question. His short tenure has been rather uneventful, nothing like the bustling insanity of New York City.
Larry gives Jim a look that demands a verbal answer. Jim shrugs again, but mutters, “Boring, I guess.”
“Well,” Larry claps Jim on the back, “I think that’s because we make a good team! We’re keeping the people of Hawkins safe, wealthy and happy! Who could ask for better leadership?”
Jim grunts at this, refusing to give into Larry’s need for validation.
At the same time, there’s a disbelieving scoff on the other side of Larry.
Jim looks up to find Lonnie Byers sipping on a beer and shaking his head.
“There a problem?” Jim asks, completely unamused by Lonnie Byers’ need to insert his own two cents.
Lonnie shrugs. “Just figures you’d become king of the pigs.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hopper raises his voice.
Lonnie laughs dryly. “The sellout couldn’t make it up in the Big City so he comes down here to be the big fish in the little pond. Sounds just like the Jim Hopper I’ve always known.”
“What the fuck is your problem?”
Lonnie takes a drag of his cigarette. “Guess that wife of yours realized what a pathetic piece of shit you really are.”
Jim can feel his anger boil over at the mention of Diane. He reaches across Larry Kline, knocking the drink out of Lonnie’s hand. As the glass bottle shatters against the bartop, Lonnie gets out of his seat in response and Jim does the same.
“Okay, gentlemen, let’s just calm down,” Larry interjects, doing his level-best to de-escalate the situation.
Neither of the men back down though, squaring off on either side of Larry.
“You’re one to talk about being a piece of shit, Lon. Didn’t you skip out on the war like a fucking coward? Does your wife know that? Or did she not see the letter like I did?”
They were friends once, Jim and Lonnie, and Jim still has a memory of Lonnie meeting up with him at his grandfather’s cabin to tell him that he’d been drafted, too. Lonnie was terrified, but also had a seething hatred for “The Man.” Jim knew, without asking, that his “friend” wasn’t going. Lonnie Byers would never give his life for the government.
Jim isn’t quite sure when Lonnie had gotten slimy like that. The three of them—Jim, Lonnie and Joyce—they’d always sort of been friends, though Lonnie had always been the outsider among them. He was more chaotic, darker, less trustworthy—the bad boy. Jim began to resent the person that Lonnie had become, but it had the opposite effect on Joyce. Suddenly, they were closer, hanging out while Jim was at swim practice and leaving him in the dust.
Jim had tried his hardest back then to stay close to Joyce. She had always been a lifeline to him, especially after nasty fights with his dad. She felt like the only person he could trust. But the harder he scrambled to stay close to her, the further Lonnie pulled her away. The letters, Jim’s desire to go and Lonnie’s adamancy to stay was the final nail in the coffin.
As Lonnie lands a blow on Jim’s face, Jim finds himself imagining what his life would have been like if he’d stayed in Hawkins like Lonnie had. Would he have plucked up the courage to finally ask Joyce Horowitz out? Would they now be married with kids and a nice house and a dog?
Jim’s body goes on autopilot, meeting Lonnie blow-for-blow as he slips into the memory of telling Joyce he was leaving.
[:]
The air at Lover’s Lake is cold tonight. It’s the middle of May, yet the air nips like it’s January. He finds her shivering on Old Man Peterson’s dock with her toes dipped in the water. Jim chuckles to himself—she never ceases to amaze him.
He slowly shuffles over to his friend and takes a deep breath.
“You know, you’d probably be less cold if you got your feet out of the water,” he calls out to her.
Joyce turns around and Jim can feel his heart skip a beat. He’s never wanted to admit that he has feelings for Joyce, but it’s hard as he’s looking now at her face illuminated by the moonlight. She’s just so pretty.
“Eh,” she shrugs, “a little cold never hurt anyone,” and just as he approaches she flings her foot up out of the water, splashing Hopper with the frigid water.
Hopper yelps as Joyce laughs aloud. “Oh you are done for, Horowitz,” he playfully threatens, pulling off his letterman and running at her full speed. He hurtles them both into the lake, as Joyce squeals, feeling pure shock throughout his body when they land.
“You’re crazy, Jim Hopper!” she yells once they bob back to the surface.
Just then, they hear clamoring at Old Man Peterson’s back door and see him barreling out with his shotgun. Swiftly, Jim grabs Joyce and pulls her close to the dock so that they are shadowed by it. Jim holds a finger up to his lips as he watches Old Man Peterson peer out into the darkness for a few minutes then turn back around and trudge back into his house.
When he’s sure the old man is gone, he cracks a smile, which devolves into devious snickers from both of them.
Joyce shivers again then puts her arms around Jim’s neck, repeating more softly this time, “You’re crazy, Jim Hopper.”
Jim isn’t sure if it’s the cold water or his nerves about telling Joyce he’s leaving, but he suddenly feels like all the air has been sucked out of his lungs.
Why is he staring at her lips?
His eyes dart back up to meet Joyce’s and he thinks he might drown. He can feel the words bubbling up, the need to tell her he’s going, but he’s just lost in her soft brown eyes.
“You’re my favorite person in the world, Joyce,” he confesses quietly.
Joyce beams. “You’re mine, Hop.”
Oh fuck it.
Jim places his hands on Joyce’s hips and walks them a few paces until Joyce’s back is up to the dock. Her arms stay locked around his neck and he thinks she pulls him closer.
He should not kiss her right now, he shouldn’t, but his head dips low into the space between them, lingers for just a moment, and then he gives into temptation, pressing his lips against hers and feeling all his objections melt away.
They break apart for a breath then return with no hesitation, their lips moving to each other like magnets. Their kisses are more fervent now, with both of them clinging onto the other like they’ll never let go. And he’s shocked to find that it’s not just him—she’s kissing him back. And her legs are now wrapped around his waist pulling him even closer to her.
He’s thankful that he’s wearing jeans, though he’s not sure that it’s even hiding his erection at this point. He’s not sure he even cares anymore. He grinds into her just slightly as his hands cup her face and he continues kissing her.
God, he should not be doing this…
But how is he supposed to stop when she starts grinding back against him? How is he supposed to stop when he’s addicted to the taste of her soft, cherry-flavored lips? How is he supposed to stop when the girl he’s had a crush on since 6th grade is kissing him?
But he knows, deep down, that what he’s doing is unfair. She may think that this is the beginning of something, but for him, this is goodbye.
He curses himself for having to do it, but Jim pulls away from her and whispers what he’s been dreading, “I have to tell you something.”
Joyce looks puzzledly, and perhaps a bit embarrassed, at him and asks him what’s wrong.
Jim sighs and feels his heart snap in his chest. “Joyce, I, uh, I got a letter.”
Joyce frowns, looking hurt.
“No,” is all she says at first.
“Why would you—” she starts again.
“It was wrong, I should have told you, first.”
Joyce pushes his chest. “You’re damn right you should have told me first. Why did you kiss me if you knew what you were about to tell me?”
“I didn’t know I was going to kiss you when I asked you to meet me here,” he tries to reason with her. “But I could die over there, Joyce. I wasn’t about to pass up the chance now.” He’s partially joking, but she isn’t amused.
Joyce begins to wade away from him. “You could die over there and you choose now to act like you like me?”
“I’ve always liked you.”
Joyce, who is now facing the middle of the lake, turns back to him with a glare. “That’s my point isn’t it? How long have you had a thing for me exactly, Jim?”
Jim isn’t sure he has an answer, or at least, not one Joyce is going to want to hear. He kind of always hid those feelings but in hindsight, he realizes he may have always had a thing for her.
“I don’t know,” is all he says.
Joyce crosses her arms across her chest and scoffs. He knows she’s at her angriest when she just stops talking.
“Joyce,” he says softly.
His small plea has no effect on her. She wades over to the shore without so much as a second glance at him.
Hopper follows right behind her, reaching for her arm and saying her name again. “Joyce, please, wait.”
“What Hop?” she snaps.
“I’m sorry,” is all he can think to tell her.
“Are you going?”
“What?”
“Are you going?”
Jim takes a deep breath. “Yes.”
Joyce wordlessly extricates herself from the lake and begins to march toward the road.
“Joyce wait!” he calls after her. “You shouldn’t walk home, it’s dark out!”
“I will do anything if it gets me away from you!” she calls behind her.
He’s lucky she’s short, and he’s quite the opposite, because he’s able to catch up with her in just a few paces. He grabs her arm again and spins her around. “Please, I’m sorry. You’re the most important person to me, Joyce. I know I should have handled this better but I just… got caught up in the moment.”
Joyce shakes her head. “And what about me?” she cries. “Telling me you have feelings for me before you go is just cruel, Jim. What am I supposed to do with that, huh? You’re important to me. But you’re leaving me. And you could die over there and I’m supposed to just carry what could have been around with me forever? How is that fair? How is that fair?”
Jim finds himself too stunned for words. He doesn’t know what to say to make the situation better. He royally screwed up.
“I’ll never forgive you for this,” she says after a bit of pause.
Jim expects her to continue on to the road, but she actually turns on her heel and heads toward his car. She gets in and doesn’t say a word to him. In fact, little does he know that those are the very last words she says to him until 1979.
[:]
Jim’s consciousness rises back to the surface to be more present in his brawl with Lonnie. Though, he’d much rather be lost in memories right now. The fight is pretty fair. Jim doesn’t remember Lonnie being this tough, but maybe the years have forced him to be.
Tired of this charade, Jim takes an opportunity he sees to slam Lonnie’s head into the bar and pull cuffs from his belt. As he slaps the metal against Lonnie’s wrists, he grumbles, “You’re under arrest for assaulting a police officer.”
Nobody intervenes, instead they all just look on and whisper as Lonnie yells curses about Jim being a sellout and a pig.
Jim is totally unfazed. The pill has started to kick in, he thinks. He starts to feel his body just go through the motions, the world around him slurring a bit more and forcing him to be more deliberate with every move he makes.
He miraculously drags Lonnie to the door and out the bar. He’s not gentle by any means when he throws Lonnie into the backseat. But he still has to get him to the precinct safely.
[:]
Joyce Byers doesn’t know she’s fallen asleep until she’s startled awake by the shrill ringing of her telephone. Panicked, she clamors over to it, praying that it doesn’t wake her children.
“Hello?” she says sharply.
“Hello, Mrs. Byers?” a woman’s voice comes softly through the receiver.
“Yes?” Joyce answers, growing impatient.
“Hi, this is Florence Jenkins from the Hawkins PD.”
Joyce can feel her stomach plummet. “Yes?”
“Yes, ma’am, we, um, we have your husband in custody.”
Joyce sighs. She’s honestly not surprised in the least that Lonnie’s been arrested again. It’s almost a regular occurrence at this point. She’s got half a mind to let him rot in there for a few days, might do him some good.
But then Flo says, “I think you might wanna come down here, Mrs. Byers.”
Something is wrong, and like wrong wrong. Joyce tells Flo she’ll be there in fifteen minutes and hangs up.
A surge of stress rises through her body like lightning. At least she knows Lonnie is alive. Despite all the fighting lately, she still worries about him all the time. She runs to her bedroom, throwing on a pair of jeans, then finds a pen and a scrap piece of paper to jot down a note, letting the boys know where she’s gone in case they wake up.
She feels like a bad mom for leaving them but she doesn’t want to wake them up to go get their dad out of jail. The latter almost feels like worse parenting.
Joyce finishes her note then scurries out to her car, lights a cigarette, and peels out of her driveway in a matter of seconds.
When she arrives at the police station, she finds Lonnie sitting at the desk of one of the officers. Even from a distance she can see his face is covered in blood. Her blood turns icy as she rushes over to him.
“Honey, what happened?” she asks him. But his voice isn’t the one that answers.
Instead she hears, “He assaulted a police officer, that’s what happened,” to her right.
Joyce turns to find Jim Hopper standing there with a busted lip and a cut to his eyebrow. There’s blood on his shirt, too. Joyce wonders momentarily if it belongs to him or her husband.
She’s also struck with nostalgia, remembering the last time she saw Jim Hopper before this moment.
The circumstances were eerily similar to now. It was just after graduation and he and Lonnie had gotten in a fight in the parking lot. To this day, she still doesn’t know what they were fighting over, because Lonnie has refused to talk about it and she never got the chance to ask Hopper about it. They’d had a nasty fight a few days before that, and they actually haven’t spoken until this very moment.
She feels an urge to ask if he’s okay, because she realizes the girl that once really cared for Jim Hopper was still inside her somewhere.
It doesn’t matter, though, because Lonnie interrupts. “Bullshit, you wanted me to hit you. You were fucking asking for it.”
“You fucking started it!” Hopper bellows and Joyce notices that the whole room has gone silent.
Lonnie stands from his chair. “I was just exercising my American right to complain about the pathetic excuse for leadership we have in this shithole town.”
Hopper sighs and puts his hands on his hips. “Alright, Lonnie. Enlighten me. What the fuck did I do to you?”
“It’s not what you did to me. It’s what you did to her ,” he hisses, pointing at Joyce.
Joyce is taken aback. She’s not sure what Lonnie is talking about. Jim Hopper had never done anything to her but be a decent friend. She was angry at him the last time they’d spoken, but she’s since grown to understand why. The circumstances could’ve been better, but she’s forgiven him even if they haven’t spoken about it.
“Oh don’t pretend like you don’t know,” Lonnie says bitterly. “You were different after he left. You changed.”
“Lonnie, I—”
“Save it, Joyce.”
Joyce holds her ground. “Hopper and I haven’t spoken in fifteen years, Lonnie. He’s practically a stranger to me. Where is this coming from?”
Lonnie rises from his chair and scoffs. “Like you don’t know.”
“I don’t.”
“Tell me why, Joyce, you were so ready to leave this shithole town behind. And then as soon as he,” Lonnie points angrily in Hopper’s direction, “shows up, you’ve suddenly changed your mind?”
Joyce is stunned and at a loss for words. Her decision to stay in Hawkins had nothing to do with Jim Hopper. It was for, well, Will mostly. Will, despite being bullied at school, was happy with his friends. And after a heart-to-heart with him recently where he begged her to let them stay, she changed her mind.
Jim’s sudden resurfacing after 7 years of not being in Hawkins had nothing to do with that… she thinks.
“Lonnie,” she says calmly, “I want to stay for the boys. This has nothing to do with Hopper. I swear. Will, he wants to stay here and I couldn’t say no.”
Lonnie’s face softens and is tinged with a little red.
He approaches Joyce and lovingly caresses her face. “Okay, baby, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
Joyce tuts and touches his hand to acknowledge his apology.
Hopper makes a disgusted groan beside them, off-setting the serenity that Joyce had finally established. Both she and Lonnie look at their old friend.
“Got something to say, Hopper?” Lonnie challenges.
Hopper shrugs and grimaces. “Nope,” he tells him, “not a thing.”
Lonnie steps away from Joyce and meets Hopper toe-to-toe. “Don’t be a fucking pansy, say what you have to say.”
Hopper chuckles humorlessly. “Nothing, I just think it’s kind of pathetic that you’re so stuck in the past. It was fifteen years ago, Lon, I think it’s time to let it go.”
“Oh I’m pathetic? I’m not the one who came crawling back here with his tail between his legs after his wife and kid realized what a piece of shit he is.”
Hopper’s nostrils flare and Joyce becomes acutely aware of how volatile the situation is getting.
“That’s right, Lon, because you never left! And maybe your wife and kids haven’t realized what a piece of shit you are yet, but they’ll figure it out someday.”
“Well, at least my kids are still alive, so I can find out.”
Joyce gasps. She’s heard the rumors that Hopper’s daughter had died, though she desperately wanted to believe for his sake that this wasn’t true. But given the face that Hopper is making, Joyce fears that the rumors may be true after all.
She’d never seen such a perfect whirlpool of sadness and anger mixed into one reaction. There are tears in eyes but his nostrils flare again and Jim’s anger wins over. He picks Lonnie up by the collar of his shirt and throws him into one of the desks. As Lonnie rises to fight, Hopper punches him square in the jaw.
Once Lonnie is down on the ground, Jim looks at John Curtis and orders him to book Lonnie.
“Hopper…” Joyce says patronizingly. They both know that he can’t hold Lonnie with any legal soundness after what just happened.
Officer Curtis knows this, too, because he doesn’t move right away. But Hopper is undeterred and he yells at Curtis again, demanding that he book Lonnie before he gets fired.
“And you,” he points at Joyce, “go home. You can come get him when I feel like letting him out.”
“You can’t tell me what to do,” she argues.
“I’m the chief of police, Joyce! I can do whatever the hell I want! Now get out of my precinct!”
With that, Jim storms away to his office and slams the door behind him. For a few moments, everyone in the office just stands there, quietly dumbfounded by what just transpired. Joyce could feel her blood boiling, a sensation that she mostly only felt when she caught Lonnie cheating…again, but even that she’d begun to get immune to. She tries to shake it off, but once Officer Curtis begins to move to start the paperwork, she can’t help but be led by the feeling.
“Okay, just hang on a goddamned minute,” she barks at Curtis. “I’m going to go settle this. Don’t waste your time.”
Joyce marches purposefully toward Hopper’s office door. She’s so angry that she doesn’t even bother knocking, she just blows through the door, ready to fight. But when she opens the door, instead of being met with an angry Hopper pacing the floor and smoking a cigarette, she finds a different Hopper, one that is crumpled up into a ball, shaking and crying.
Joyce is stunned at first. This is a Hopper she’d never seen. He’s not just upset, he’s…shaken.
All the fury that was in her body dissipates. She closes the door behind her and rushes over to Hopper’s side.
“Hey,” she says soothingly. “Hey, Hop, talk to me. What’s wrong?”
Hopper doesn’t say anything and just bounces his leg even harder. He refuses to look at Joyce, placing his head in his hands, and causing Joyce’s heart to break just a little.
“Hop,” she whispers gently, “it’s me. It’s Joyce. How can I help?”
Again, nothing. Just more leg bouncing and hyperventilating.
Joyce reaches for him, trying to ground him, or get him to look at her, but he rebuffs her. But he must realize that Joyce isn’t going to give up easily because he lifts his head and points over to his desk. It takes her a moment to realize what he’s pointing at in his dim office, but when her eyes land on a small orange pill bottle, she knows that’s what he’s asking for.
She doesn’t know what the pills are for or what they do, but she figures she will oblige him because she’s not sure what else she can do at this point. She lifts herself quickly off the ground, paces over to his desk, grabs the bottle and returns to Hopper’s side.
He brutishly rips the bottle from her hands and opens the bottle, spilling a couple of small pills into his hands and popping them into his mouth. He swallows them but continues to breathe rapidly. Joyce feels helpless, so she does the only thing she can think of. She takes both sides of his face in her hands and forces him to look at her.
When his wet eyes meet hers, they betray him in the worst way. She sees all the hurt inside him on full display and she just aches with sadness for him.
Joyce looks at him intently and takes a deliberate deep breath. She nods at him, inviting him to breathe with her. After a couple of solo deep breaths, Hopper nods and joins her, taking a deep breath every time she does until his breathing becomes steadier and his legs lose their bounce.
Joyce doesn’t let go of his face right away, wanting to keep him centered. He’s still holding eye contact with her, giving her a calmer and more appreciative look.
She doesn’t realize what’s happening until it’s happening. Maybe she should have noticed the glint in his eye and the way his body sort of melted into hers, but she was oblivious to them until Jim Hopper was kissing her. His lips are warm and steady, firm against hers and her body reacts instinctually. She can’t help but kiss him back. He’s a little rough, wanton, shifting so he can dip her.
She should stop, but she lets him run his tongue along the seam of her lips and she opens for him.
She tastes him—he’s beer flavored, which is not surprising given his behavior toward—
Joyce rips herself away from him, looking at him incredulously. Jim, too, is wearing a look of surprise.
“Joyce,” he says meekly, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what—I just—I, I needed, I needed to feel something. I needed to feel something.”
Words fail her at this moment. She doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to say. She’s very concerned for Hopper, but she’s so stupefied by what just happened that she doesn’t know how to express it.
Her hands lift to softly brush across her lips. “Hop,” she murmurs.
She almost wants to kiss him again, because while he may or may not have felt something. She did. Not feelings per se, but just electrified.
But she swallows the thrill down and finds her voice. “What happened back there, Hop?”
Hopper’s eyes meet hers again and he looks less apologetic and more frustrated.
“Why are you here, Joyce?” he bemoans.
“Because you arrested my husband…”
“No, I meant why are you still here? Just leave! Get out!”
“No,” she answers adamantly. “I’m not leaving until you talk to me. We’re friends, Hop.”
Hopper chuckles bitterly, “We’re not friends, Joyce, we’ve not spoken in almost fifteen years!”
“That doesn’t mean we aren’t—”
“Doesn’t it though?” he yells over her before he can finish his sentence.
Softer, he adds, “You were so mad at me for leaving you, Joyce. But what about me? You left me too, Joyce. You left.”
Joyce frowns. Perhaps she should’ve reached out. She just felt like too much time had passed. He moved on with his new wife and daughter and he just lived an entire life without her.
“I’m sorry,” she tells him quietly.
Hopper sniffles. “I’m sorry, too.”
Joyce reaches for his hand and takes it between the two of hers. “Hop, you know that you can still talk to me. I’m here now.”
Hopper just shakes his head and takes his hand back. “I need you to leave, Joyce.”
She’s shocked by this because she thought that she was beginning to chip at his ice wall. But as quickly as the ice melts, it refreezes and he’s closed off once again.
She’s starting to get frustrated and angry herself. “I’m not going to force you to talk to me, but I’m not going anywhere.”
“Joyce,” he says a little sharper this time, “I want you to leave.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want you here, not while I—” He stops.
“While you what?”
“I just don’t want you around me, okay? I’m not a good person to be around right now.”
Joyce sighs. “What if I don’t care?”
“Well I care, Joyce! “ he yells, and Joyce knows the others heard him.
“I’m not gonna let you self destruct, Hopper.”
“You’re gonna let me do whatever I want, Joyce. You left once and I didn’t ask you to. But this time I’m asking. Go grab your husband and go back to your happy home with your kids.”
“You want me to leave that bad, that you'll let Lonnie go?” she asks timidly, thinking he might have been facetious.
“Yep.”
Joyce scoffs and begins to rise but quickly sinks back to her knees.
Perhaps it’s a little selfishness and a little bit of curiosity that drives her, but she tells herself it’s to make a point.
Joyce leans in, leaving millimeters between herself and Hopper. Their eyes lock and Hopper’s breathing stutters for a moment. His eyes plead and he wets his lips because they both know what’s going to happen. They both know, so Joyce doesn’t belabor the point anymore. She leans in, pressing a firm and chaste kiss against Hopper’s lips. It lasts only seconds but she knows its impact will last much longer.
Joyce pulls away and looks Hopper in the eyes once more. She pauses, then says, “Just let me know when you’re ready to feel something again.”
And with that, she rises from her spot and wordlessly shuffles to the door.
Hopper isn’t looking at her when she glances back behind her. It breaks her heart a little, but she’s always been too stubborn to fight when it comes to her feelings. Joyce turns the handle and exits the office without another word. Once in the hallway, she dries up the couple of tears that had traitorously fallen and takes a deep breath, while admiring the strung up Christmas lights.
Calmer, she makes her way around the corner to the open area and flashes her best smile at Lonnie.
“C’mon, we’re going home,” she tells him.
Officer Curtis uncuffs Lonnie, who bounces out of his chair rather excitedly for someone who’d gotten beaten up. He hurries over to Joyce, likely to ensure that this wasn’t a prank. He offers her his hand, but she doesn’t take it. He dismisses it.
As they walk toward the door, Lonnie asks, “What did he say?”
Joyce, spotting mistletoe at the front door, reaches for it. Her hand barely grazes it, but the lowest leaves tickle her fingertips lightly.
“Nothing,” she says as they walk across the threshold.
“Why’d he let me go, then?”
“I don’t know. Just ‘tis the damn season, I guess.”