Chapter Text
“You okay, kid?”
A brief scrape that faded as quick as it occurred. A newly pierced egg, engulfed entirely in one bite. Over hard, just as he liked it.
Jane had drifted elsewhere, propping herself up with a wrist that became ignorant to the numbing amount of pressure it had since endured. The cold, morning air expressed its duality in droplets sprinkled across the picture window beside her. Between the blinding streams of light and the fog clouding the window, it was difficult to see through. The inconstant drone of passing traffic reinstituted her waning sense of reality.
A soft smile formed on her flushed face, lingered, then faded at the tunneled crescendo of scraping cutlery and jumbled conversation. She slowly blinked as she leaned into the booth, shifting against the upholstery fabric.
“I’m still not a morning person, no matter how many times you try to entice me with breakfast food,” she pointedly replied, lifting a fork and poking at her waffles.
He dryly chuckled as he nursed his umber coffee, tarnished with an irrational amount of cream.
Jim Hopper belonged to the world the instant he woke up, carrying himself smoothly in all manners of interaction. A quick whip that could draw blood at the slightest misstep. His kind is derivative, in Jane’s opinion, but she adored him regardless.
Her eyes shifted down as she placed a fatigued hand on her lap, over her latest soon-to-be conquest. It was a recommendation from Dustin. Her fingertips drummed over the book as she internally debated whether straining herself so early was a good idea or not.
As it always does, curiosity won. The book settled on the table, crinkling as it slowly opened.
Hopper glanced up as he diced sausage, pausing at the newly-materialized topic of conversation. His palms, with fork and knife in hand, settled at the edge of the table.
“What’s that one?”
“Carrie. Dustin says it’s good,” she muttered, having to restart the first sentence. Reading took all of her concentration.
The mundane chatter of the other diner patrons didn’t help. Concealed frustration flashed across her face when a startled noise sounded in the distance.
“You say you’re not a morning person…yet you brought a book. Your eyes look like they need to be pried open. Are you sure your gears are turnin’ enough for that?”
Jane wiped resignation out of her eyes with a free hand and softly sighed. “Doesn’t hurt to try.”
“Yeah, sure, but it’s not an ideal setting. I know you need a certain environment to, uh….” he waved his knifed hand around aimlessly, searching for words,”…focus ‘n’ whatnot.”
“Wasn’t too bad until you started talking,” she smirked.
“Whoa!” Hopper feigned offense. “Easy there, Petrillo, don’t bite my head off.”
“You need to stop watching Golden Girls.”
“You’ll have to pry ‘em away from me.” Hopper finished his plate and placed his cutlery down.
The final swig of his coffee indicated his meal’s finality. He clutched his breast-pocket as he combated a hiccup, hoping to instill some reaction in his daughter, but she remained, eyes burning holes into the pages.
An anxiousness began to well inside. “I don’t-“ he began, clearing his throat ”-I don’t think you should read that one. I should talk to that brat for suggesting it in the first place,” he said, feigning neutrality.
A fake, “cool-guy” warmth manifested and Jane blankly looked at him. He vowed to not to be so unbearably protective. They were working on it.
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Well, it’s just…a little graphic. I don’t think you’d be fond of some of the imagery. Fires, explosions, a vengeful, religion-torn girl that goes on a killing spree…”
Their narrow state ceased. “Oh…” she trailed, slowly closing the book. “I guess you’re right.”
A sudden jolt of pain seared into the center of her forehead, setting her sinuses ablaze. Jane sharply inhaled and pinched the top of her nose. She despised these headaches.
Light like needles. Noise like barbed claws. All imbedded in her skin. A grave warmth settled over her.
Hopper’s face fell. “Head hurting again?”
She lightly nodded. “I’m not sure why. It’s been a while,” she squeaked.
Jane’s state of existence remained unconventional. Aside from the hidden aspects of her dread: the aches, the waves of nausea, the nightmares that propelled her soul from herself in the middle of fragile, restless rest—they appeared tangibly. Scars, many pale scars, dusted around her face. They stained the corners of her mouth, her nostrils, her forehead. They haunted her thin, feathered eyebrows. Refracting their magnitude in her dulled eyes.
They haunted her.
“Mm,” Hopper grunted. An idea lit him up, body tensing. “Listen. I’ll make you a deal. You trade in that bloodbath for a…uh, calmer book, I’ll let you borrow my car to do it.” He forced a smile, trying to keep the image of his car in a billion pieces elsewhere. “You need to get more practice in, anyhow.”
El returned the smile. These aches usually keep her bedridden and still, but a chance to actually drive compelled her. Talking was harder to manage as Hopper tucked some dollar bills under his mug, and assisted Jane in standing from their booth.
But she enjoyed a stick-shift.
“Deal.”
-
Downtown Hawkins was…unique.
The downtown Hawkins that no one ever talked about. The nine square blocks a few miles up Cherry Oak Drive was a forgotten, distant land. Apart from the rest of Hawkins, the air bared polluted constriction; both from complete unkemptness and the sullen attitudes of those afflicted with any and every conceivable issue. It was a safe space for people that were the opposite of safe, people that didn’t know the first thing about it.
Patches of Hawkins were underprivileged throughout its entirety, but “downtown” was the desolately populous. It possessed a twisted charm that was concealed to outsiders. It took time and energy to appreciate it in all its grime and glory, time that most people didn’t care to relinquish. In the beginning, Jane had nothing but time. She loved it.
It represented everything that people needed to draw attention to. It represented parts of her that she hid, parts that she couldn’t dare to acknowledge in fear that they would massacre everything she’s worked so hard to change. It was a vessel for her secrecy.
She frequented it whenever she could, specifically the library. If it could even honor such a title.
The selection was pathetic compared to the one in town square, but it was substance nonetheless. Opportunity. Reading was a tribulation for El. Her upbringing neglected her intellect, leaving her to glue the pieces of her endangered potential together herself.
Hopper changed her life. Hopper would do anything for her, but, ultimately, El’s capability belonged to her. Only she could tend to it, but nothing she ever attempted felt right.
Nothing could ever feel right.
Jane broke herself out of her thoughts as she switched the ignition off. Solitude was her constant companion here. It accompanied her on a brisk, cautious walk to the deteriorating building several yards away. The crumbling sidewalk sounded under each step. As she entered, the solid oak groaned under her force and faded into a lowly hiss as it closed behind her.
It smelled lukewarm and aged, like dust and the damning aroma of the forgotten past. The carpet was water-stained. The overheads were soft and all-encompassing, bathing the worn furniture and shelves in sepia. To the far left was the librarian, manning a desk that was entirely too big. It plagued the entire east wall.
Numerous stacks of books lined the counter. A small gap was left in the middle for handling attendants. Scratched tables and miscellaneous chairs were scattered throughout the center of the lobby, along with one recliner that had a chunk of synthetic leather missing. The jagged border suggested someone took their teeth to it.
Jane routinely glanced around and turned her attention to the shelves, which inhabited the rest of the space, with a disposition of finality. The shelves contained the world and beyond, and beyond the beyond, which was a concept that never ceased to amaze her. She wanted to know anything and everything.
Eventually.
After today’s ache, a children’s book would do. Colorful. Cheerful. Resolute in a way that made her feel pleasant inside. She craved that feeling.
Jane mindlessly picked one off the shelf, not bothering to concern herself with plot, and curled into herself on the carpet. She read cautiously; fearing that if she advanced too quickly, her brain’s functionality would retreat like a frightened animal.
“Hey, kid. Time to go. Closin’ shop. Check it out or beat it,” a grim voice weaseled itself into Jane’s escape.
She had immersed herself into the tale so completely that she failed to realize how much time had passed. She looked up from where she was sitting. A stout, bottom-heavy woman with rows of wrinkles above her eyebrows tapped the side of the shelf with obnoxiously long nails, visibly losing her patience. Her attitude towards people was impressively undecided.
Jane wordlessly tucked the book back and shot up, regaining circulation in her extremities as the librarian eyed her suspiciously.
“Is it nine already? I just got here,” she said, annoyance lining her tone. Reflexively, she brought her hands to her head and massaged her temples.
”No, you got here hours ago. If you need to make a call to daddy, I suggest you do it now.”
Jane rolled her eyes as the older woman shuffled away before they softened in realization.
Hours? What was she even reading? She couldn’t remember.
A thin weight of sadness framed her heart, a familiar settling that happened each time she came here. In frustration, Jane spun in place, ripped a random chapter book off a shelf, and fled the building.
She strutted along the concrete, picking her brain for any slight remembrance, when an angry voice caught her off guard.
”Hey, watch it!” A redhead snapped up at her, sitting and smoking on the parking block next to Hopper’s Chevy.
Jane quickly looked down, unaware of her leg’s proximity to the other girl’s arm. Jane stepped back, almost tripping over herself.
”Sorry, I didn’t see you,” she meekly replied.
”Yeah, whatever.”
Her cigarette smoke spewed out in a violent breath. A bloodied hand reached up to remove it, allowing it to dangle between her fingers as she sat, knees to chest.The blood caught Jane off guard. She moved angles to see her obscured face, ensuring distance was kept between them, and dropped her book in horror.
A dried nosebleed, bruised cheekbones, a light purple undertone smeared across her angry face. Jane felt her heart drop.
”Shit, are you okay?” She asks, panicked.
”What’s it to you?” Her head snapped in Jane’s direction. The girl spoke like a dog barked.
Jane blinked, unsure of how to react. This was one of her weirder interactions outside this library. She stammered, thankful language slowly returned to her, then pointed to her own face.
“Face. Uh, your hands. What…what happened?”
”Don’t worry about it.” She maintained dismissiveness that bordered on hostility. The cigarette flew out of her hand and was crushed under the sole of her worn-down shoe.
Jane cautiously picked up her book, watching her seemingly-combative legs, and held it to her chest. Somehow, it felt like a barrier between them. The conflict seemed unnecessary, and she did not favor the unpredictability. Her heartbeat lined her ears.
”You’re hard to talk to,” she lightly scoffs, attempting to lighten the tension, to no avail.
The girl scoffs. ”And you fucking suck at taking hints,” she spat out, her lip quivering.
Their eyes met. Hers reeked of mistrust, but there was something else there.
Something unspoken.
Jane swallowed hard. She looked away and shrank internally, trying to remain emotionless. She decidedly gave up on their conversation, whether for the sake of her safety or her patience, she wasn’t sure. She reached for the car door handle and swung it open, pointedly close enough to the girl. As Jane propped herself above the driver’s seat to place the book on the floor, she heard a faint sigh.
”Max…” She trailed off, bitterly. “I’m Max.”
Jane froze. Her better instinct would advise brief acknowledgement, followed by the haste departure from this otherwise tense situation. There was enough strain today. A familiar shadow of pain slowly cloaked behind her eyes. She could leave, but-
Curiosity wins again.
The car door hesitantly shut.