AN: Hello hello! This lovely story idea is the brainchild of two wonderful ladies, Sam ( joycelhopper) and Lindsay ( fadedharrington), who were kind enough to let me try and put their idea into words. They've come up with an incredibly heartbreaking and detailed outline and I'm going to do my best to try and update the story regularly. I love and appreciate all feedback!
This story is dedicated to the kindest ladies in the ST fandom who have been nothing but kind and welcoming to me. (I'm so excited to be here!)
If you plan on following along with this story, I encourage you to check it out on A03, since there are some future handwritten letters!
Chapter 1- Willow
Wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark
Show me the places where the others gave you scars
Leaning back in his chair, Hopper stretches his arms up over his head and peers to the far side of the classroom. Two rows behind him, on the left, one of his best friends, Joyce Horowitz, was scribbling down a note furiously, her brow furrowed as she focused on what their science teacher was explaining up at the blackboard.
He extends his left arm and hurls a wad of paper in her direction, smirking when it hits her in the side of the head and forces her to look at him. She brushes the note to the side of her desk and shakes her head, choosing to ignore him rather than give in to the childish game he loved to play in this class.
As expected, Hopper balls up another wad of paper and tosses it at Joyce; this time it hits her on the cheek before falling onto her notebook. Reluctantly, she looks over at him and cocks her head while she mouths, "cut it out."
Hopper holds his hand to his ear and mouths back, "what was that?" Adding fuel to the fire, he lobs a third piece of paper at her.
"I said cut it out!" she exclaims far louder than intended. The rest of the class turns to stare and Mr. Benson stops speaking, folds his arms over his chest and marches over to her.
"Something you wanted to share with the class?" he asks.
"No sir," she whispers, gaze locked on the notebook in front of her.
"Very well. Mr. Hopper, please leave Ms. Horowitz alone. Save your antics for when you're outside my classroom."
"Yes sir," Hopper replies.
They sit through the rest of the class and listen to the biology lesson, but as soon as the class is dismissed Joyce runs up to Hopper and scolds him with a swift smack on the forearm.
"Why do you have to cause problems? Mr. Benson is going to think I don't take his class seriously."
She waits as he gathers up his books and trails behind him as they begin to make their way down the hall.
"Oh c'mon Joycie, you know I'm just teasing you. Loosen up, have a little fun," he smirks down at her.
"I have plenty of fun," she protests.
They walk down the hall side by side and Hopper tells Joyce his after school practice is cancelled and that he can drive her home. He'd been driving her home ever since he received his license and his parents gifted him a car, but football season often meant he had to stay late and Joyce had to either walk home or take the bus.
Hopper waves to a few people as they continue down the hall, and fistbumps a tall dark-haired senior that brushes past them. She's telling him about the latest book she's devoured and while she knows he's listening to every word, she can't help but notice that he has the attention of several of their peers and he could just as easily brush her off to greet them.
She and Hopper had been friends since they were kids. Having met on one of the first days of school, they formed a quick bond that had yet to be severed. Joyce didn't get along very well with many other girls, and had a difficult time making friends due to her introverted nature, but something about Hopper drew on her extroverted instincts and she found herself comfortable and open with him.
Sometimes, she envied the way everything came so naturally for Hopper. He got decent grades without studying, was a member of the Hawkins High football team and constantly had a slew of girls desperate for his attention. In addition to that, he seemed to know just about everyone. While Joyce could count the number of friends she had on a single hand, Hopper was always saying hello to strangers and other students she'd never seen before, and she was sometimes left wondering if he knew them or if he was just being polite.
There are times when his popularity feels overwhelming to her. Moments at parties where he runs off to greet someone new and she's left feeling insecure about not knowing many others, or moments like this, when despite knowing he cares about what she's telling him, she can't help but notice others noticing him.
She always wondered how their classmates perceived their friendship. She wasn't exactly the most popular member of the junior class while Hopper practically ruled the school and she knew that seeing them together must be odd. Sometimes she wondered if Hopper felt obligated to remain her friend, but that fear went away the moment she caught his eye while she spoke and she can tell he cares about what she has to say.
They reach the cafeteria and part ways, Hopper, to join some of his teammates, Joyce to a few of her friends from her photography club.
"See you after school?" he smiles.
"Don't keep me waiting," she smirks back.
He sits down with a group of boys at a table along the far wall and is immediately pulled into a conversation with the two students next to him while he unwraps his lunch. Joyce makes her way across the room and settles at her usual table where Josie and Eli are already seated and eating. Each of them look up and greet her with a smile, and Joyce plops herself down and pulls out a book and her lunch. She begins reading while she eats her peanut butter sandwich, enjoying the silence amongst her group. One of the things she liked most about this group was that there was no pressure to socialize. Sometimes they would spend the lunch hour having heated debates, sometimes they talked about their classes or latest projects, and some days, like today, they all sat in silence, immersed in their own little universes.
In Joyce's case, that universe was contained within a 256 page paperback. Turning the page, she glances across the room and catches Hopper's eye. He smiles at her and nods before returning to the rowdy group of boys bustling around the table.
.
.
"Has anyone ever told you that you're insanely short," Hopper smirks as he approaches his car. Joyce is leaning against the passenger side door, leather clad arms folded over her chest.
"Has anyone ever told you that you're insanely tall?" she fires back.
"At least once a day," he remarks with a shit eating grin.
"Are you going to unlock the car or are we just going to stand out here and chit-chat?"
"You hate my company so much, huh?" he grins as he teases her and rounds the car. Once he opens the drivers side door, he lunges across the cabin of the car and flips the lock open on her door. Joyce tosses her book bag onto the floor and climbs in, fastening her seatbelt at the same time as she pulls the door shut.
"You really should just fix the locks," she complains.
"Do you have a spare few hundred dollars lying around?"
"You don't know that I don't."
"Yes I do," he remarks. He puts the keys in the ignition and they listen as the car roars to life. "You're forgetting I know everything about you, Joycie."
And he did. He knew just about everything there was to know about her.
"I hate that nickname," she reminds him.
"That's why I use it."
"How would you like it if I started calling you Jimmy?" she teases, rolling down her window and allowing her arm rest in the vacancy as he backs out of the parking lot.
"You'd sound like my mom. Please don't."
"Hmmm, I don't know, it has kind of a nice ring to it."
"Do you have any plans later?" he asks, changing the subject.
"Just some homework, why?"
"Are we still on for tonight?"
"Only if I can call you Jimmy," she beams. Joyce loved teasing Hopper. He did this thing where he scrunched his eyebrows and his cheeks turned a bright pink shade that made doing it all the more fun, and so she often pushed until he got flustered. She wasn't single-handedly to blame for the teasing that occured in their friendship, Hopper enjoyed pushing her buttons right back and as a result most of their conversations began as quick-witted jabs and teasing remarks.
"You're not going to drop that anytime soon, are you?"
"Absolutely not. You're cute when you're bothered."
"I'm not cute, Joyce." His cheeks darken and he does his best to stay focused on the road signs ahead.
She knew he hated being called cute so she called him cute often.
"Right, sorry. You're very manly." Her response is mocking and said with a chuckle but it seems to relax him all the same and she shakes her head. "Speaking of manly things, why was practice cancelled today?"
"The coach is out. Something about his son being sick. We'll be back tomorrow."
"So what are your plans for the evening? You can come over to study if you want?"
"Can't. I told Benny we could workout at his place before grabbing something to eat. Want me to bring you anything?"
"I'm alright. We're supposed to be having pasta."
Hopper grimaces but does his best not to outwardly show his reaction. He can't remember the last time Joyce's mom actually provided dinner for her daughter. The few times he'd stayed for supper, he and Joyce were the ones to prepare the meal from the limited supplies in the pantry. It wasn't that her mother couldn't cook, she was just hardly ever home. Joyce's father, a character if Jim had ever seen one, tended to take out his anger in unconventional ways and as a result, Joyce's mother often offered to work extra hours, leaving Joyce to fend for herself.
"You sure? I could grab a burger."
"It's fine Hop." She places her palm on his wrist and gives it a gentle squeeze, something she'd done since they were kids when she was trying to reassure him that she really was alright.
They reach her house and Hopper pulls the car into the driveway before she unbuckles and reaches for her bag.
"Thanks for the ride, see you later?"
"See you later."
He waits until she's inside before backing out of the driveway and heading to Bennys.
.
.
"28… 29… 30."
It's a chant he does over and over again in his head as he pumps his arms up and down, hosting his body weight from the cool hard pavement lining Benny's garage. The two boys were nearing the end of their workout but Hopper refused to slow down. He needed to be in his prime for the upcoming home game if he wanted to impress the coach and be made the quarterback in his senior year.
After wrapping up with the weights and rinsing off, Hopper and Benny head to the local diner, a favourite hangout among their friends and meet up with a few more teammates for burgers.
"Hey Hopper, who are you taking to prom?" The question is directed at him from across the table by one of the junior linebackers named Mitchell and it catches him off guard.
"I hadn't thought about it," he shrugs. He bites into his burger and continues to speak with his mouth full, "someone hot."
The group erupts in a chorus of hollars and begins talking about one of the seniors who'd recently been caught with a student from a rival school beneath the school bleachers. Not one for dramatic gossip, Hopper finishes his burger and flags down the waitress to place an order to go. Once the takeout container is ready, he stands and slips into his letterman jacket.
"Where are you going so early, you got a hot date or something?" one of the boys calls at Hopper.
"Sorry guys, I've got plans," he says. He grabs the food and slips his keys from his pocket, weaving through the crowded diner towards the exit. He can hear his teammates calling out after him, vague things about using protection on his "date" but he tunes them out. He balances the food on the roof of his car while he fumbles to unlock it, the dimly lit parking lot only covered by the faint neon lights lining the diner window after sunset. He knows he may be early, but there's only so much team bonding he can handle and tonight, all he wants to do is unwind with his best friend.
As he approaches Joyce's house he knows that he's early. The porch light is still on, illuminating the driveway so he lingers near the cul de sac across the way and wishes he ordered himself a shake for while he waited.
They had this routine, he and Joyce. Her parents insisted on Joyce having an early curfew, so he'd begun coming by after her father turned off the porch lights, indicating that he'd gone to bed. Hopper would usually wait a few minutes before pulling into the driveway and flashing the headlights. Joyce's bedroom was the only one at the front of the house, therefore she was the only one who would see Hopper's headlights.
Once she knew he was parked outside, she would pop the screen off her window and shimmy out onto the roof over the porch, where she climbed down the trellis at the side of the house and down to his car.
They'd been safely sneaking Joyce in and out for months, but each time they did it part of Hopper panicked that her dad would catch them and he's certain the metallic taste that takes over his tongue will never go away as long as she was sneaking out of her father's home. She always insisted that things would be fine and they wouldn't be caught, but his pulse raced every single time they did this.
Tonight, he waits five minutes after the porch light is switched off before he pulls into the vacant driveway and flashes his headlights. While waiting for Joyce, he drums his fingers on the steering wheel and hums to himself. When she finally appears in the window, she's wearing an oversized hoodie and a pair of baggy pants, her hair swept into a messy ponytail, situated on the top of her head. He watches with baited breath as she manovers down the side of the house and reaches over to unlock her door before she gets to the car.
"Where to?" she asks.
"Let's go to the lake."
"How was dinner?" he asks as they back out of her driveway.
"She ended up staying at work late."
"Joyce."
"It's fine Hop, I made some scrambled eggs for us." He knows the "us" she's referring to is her and her father and he cringes at her grouping them together in the same term.
"Reach behind you," he instructs. "I got you something."
She does as she's told and reaches around the seat, where her hand finds a white doggy bag. She grabs it and places it in her lap while turning to give him a look.
"Before you yell at me, it's your favourite."
Joyce debates lecturing him on how she can handle things on her own and doesn't need his help, but the smell wafting out of the bag demands her attention and she resigns and decides it's best to say thank you and enjoy the food.
"With the extra sauce?" she asks slowly.
"Exactly how you like it," he nods.
She reaches into the bag and pulls out a foil wrapped burger that she immediately begins to unwrap and snack on. She didn't need Hopper to look out for her, but who was she to say no to one of her favourite snacks on a late night drive? She would yell at him for trying to be a hero, tomorrow.
.
.
When they arrive at the lake, Hopper pulls into his usual spot on the lawn just in front of where the shallow water meets the shore. He cuts the engine and flips the headlights on, allowing the fog to dance among the white shadows that lead a dim path to the lake.
It's a clear evening, but the warm mist rising off the lake creates a haze that makes the area feel like it's secluded from the rest of the town. Hopper reaches into the back seat and fishes out a blanket that he lays down in front of the car and motions for Joyce to join him. She does, sitting opposite him on the small plaid square with her legs crossed, the dewy droplets from the fog illuminating her face in a way he would describe as perfect in the headlights. He wasn't blind to the fact that his best friend was beautiful, but he wasn't vocal about it either.
"It's so peaceful here." It's an observation she makes every time they come out to the lake, but her relaxed facial features and dropped shoulders are one of the reasons he so often selected the lake as their late night drive destination. It was rare to see Joyce so relaxed and he would do just about anything to allow her to be in a comfortable state of mind like this all the time.
"How was your workout with Benny?" she asks.
"Good. Not at good as a real practice would have been but I think it did the trick. How was homework?"
"Oh you know, an English essay can only be so thrilling."
"You love writing essays," he reminds her. "You used to help me with mine, remember."
"I remember," she smiles softly. She goes quiet for a moment, lost in a memory; a large oak desk and pre-teen Hopper anxiously chewing on the end of his pencil while she worked on outlining his history essay. They were in his family office after school. It was one of the first times she'd been invited over to his house, as they usually hung out outside. She remembers thinking their friendship wouldn't last. Hopper had recently taken a huge interest in sports, hence her helping with his essay, and he was bound to outgrow their friendship in the coming years.
He never did, and now here they were years later, sprawled out on a picnic blanket beside Lovers Lake, still best friends.
Joyce watches as Hopper shifts himself closer to her and mirrors her stance by folding one leg beneath the other. The light from the vehicle reflects in his eyes and for a brief moment, she's lost in a sea of blue and emerald. She knew he was attractive. Hell, there was a reason half the senior girls were after him. But in small moments like this, she found it was easy to forget that she told herself her childhood crush on Hopper was long gone. She would never tell him this, but in the quietest of moments, while he sat and listened to her speak, she found herself drawn to him in a magnetic sense that made her question her own feelings.
Tonight, she swallows that thought and forces herself to focus on the moon's reflection across the still water.
She couldn't have feelings for her best friend. It would complicate and ruin everything.
"Hand," he demands. His voice grounds Joyce and she forgets about her wild train of thoughts and focuses on the boy in front of her.
She extends her palm to him and angles her body so that her torso is perpendicular to his.
He hooks his thumb, much rougher from the years of helping his father cut wood, around hers and joins their hands. This was a "game" they'd been playing together for years and Joyce was no stranger to how it worked. It was another die-hard habit they'd picked up as kids. When one of them had had a long day, they would sit down in the grass on Hopper's lawn and link their thumbs, fiddling them back and forth like a relaxed thumb restless match while they asked each other questions designed to distract them from the real world.
"Current favourite song?" she asks.
"Lame, you know the answer."
He moves his thumb to the left of hers, then back to the right.
"It changes every five seconds!"
"Fine, it's Back in the USA."
"I knew it," she boasts.
"Favourite sentence from your essay?" he asks.
"Ou," she takes a moment to think it over. "Alright, I've got it. 'Though men may have a predetermined fate, we can not, by any means, move through life as if our actions are so predetermined that they do not matter'."
"You wrote that?"
"I did," she says proudly. "I liked the essay topic."
"What would you want your last meal to be?"
"A nice steak," he nods.
"Tell me your biggest fear," he says softly, thumb narrowly avoiding hers as they continue the pointless thumb wrestling match between them.
"That's a loaded question. I asked you what you would want your last meal to be, those two things aren't even on the same playing field."
"You could've asked something harder."
"Being alone," she admits quietly.
He locks eyes with her and instead of moving his thumb in the usual to and from pattern, he hooks it around her hand and presses down.
"Joyce."
A silent conversation passes. She'll always have him. He's told her thousands of times. She believes him, for the most part. Though, her deepest fear is that after school he'll move on to a bigger and better life and she'll be left on her own to fight against the scariest thing she knew, life.
"I know," she smiles.
Hopper was the only person she let herself be vulnerable like this with. At school, she came off as tough and uncaring. She liked it that way. She liked that she wasn't perceived as someone who needed anyone.
Hopper releases her hand and lays back on the blanket to look up at the sky. It's cloud-filled and unclear, but something about the darkness calms him.
"The guys asked who I'm planning on taking to prom," he tells her.
"And? What did you tell them?"
"That I wasn't going."
"Yeah. Right," she smirks and rolls over to face him. "Jim Hopper, one of the most popular kids in school isn't going to prom. I think the world would end."
"You're so dramatic," he groans, pulling himself up so that he's seated with his back to the lake. He wraps an arm around his knees and drops his head in her direction. "Besides, I didn't really tell them that, I told them I was taking you."
A smirk breaks out across his face at her initial panic but she recovers quickly and begins to laugh. "Get out of here, you know I wouldn't be caught dead at prom."
"Not even with me?"
There's a serious undertone in his voice that makes her wonder if he's still joking around, but she quickly forces herself to dismiss the thought and smiles at him. "Not even with you, Jim Hopper."
"What if I asked you in some ridiculous way? You'd have to agree to go with me."
"I wouldn't go to prom if you paid me," she reassures him.
"You're telling me that if I did something crazy, say," he scampers to his feet and steps towards the parked car, "climbed up on the hood of the car…" He's standing on the hood of his car now, arms outstretched while she watches with an amused expression.
"And yelled, 'Joyce, will you go to prom with me?' that you'd turn me down."
"I'd turn you down before you even had a chance to hop up on the car. Now get down before you hurt yourself and your coach wants to kill me."
She reaches up and takes his hand while he effortlessly jumps down and rejoins her on the blanket.
"You're a heartbreaker, you know that Horowitz?"
"And you're insane."
"You should come to prom," he says.
"Why? It's not like I'll know anyone there besides you and I'm sure you'll have your hands full with your date."
"It'll be fun, I promise."
"I don't think so Hop, maybe next year."
"At least think about coming? For me? It'll be so much more fun with you there."
"I'll think about it, but I'm not making any promises."
Eventually, the cold begins to seep through Joyce's jacket and Hopper offers to drive her home. She watches as he packs up the blanket, rolling it together and tossing it into the back seat of his car, and she thinks about what he said about prom.
She hadn't any interest in going. It wasn't like she had many friends and the few she did have wouldn't be caught dead at a school dance. Even though she knows he was joking, she finds herself wondering what it would be like to go with Hopper. People would stare, probably whisper and she's sure she would hate it. What she wouldn't hate, she dares to let herself think, is being in his arms while they shared a dance. She's quick to rain-in and dismiss the thought, but it still popped into her mind and a vision of them, wearing ridiculous outfits while they danced to a jazz band version of a trashy song, doesn't displease her.
She shivers, the overwhelming sensation that normal people didn't day dream about their best friend rippling through her tiny body.
"Cold?" he asks, noticing her quivering next to the passenger side door.
"Yeah," she replies automatically. Cursing at herself for getting carried away with an unrealistic, absurd fantasy, she climbs into the car and folds her arms across her chest.
As Hopper begins to drive back to her place, she finds herself fascinated by the way the moonlight paints him in a faint shade of yellow. He catches her staring and smiles. "What?"
"Huh?" she replies, tearing her gaze away as quick as possible.
"You're staring."
"Oh nothing," she sighs, "just tired."
"Does that mean you don't want to drive around some more?"
"I never said that."
They drive around for another hour, talking about everything and nothing. On a particular stretch of abandoned road that lies between the edge of the town and the woods, Hopper even lets Joyce drive his car. He'd taught her to drive years prior, but she hated to when other cars were on the road and so she reserved practice for late nights like this, with Hopper in the passenger seat and the moon being the only other light aside from the headlights.
When Joyce begins to yawn, Hopper drives her home. She lingers in the warm cabin of the car, laughing at a story he's telling about Benny. Her hand falls to his arm as she laughs, and rests there until the cold evening air crashes through the open car door and she announces that she should get going.
She waves from the porch before climbing the trellis and back towards the window she escaped from hours prior.
Hopper smiles to himself, watching as she moves silent against the night sky and waits until she's safe inside before he begins his own journey back home.
I'm begging for you to take my hand
Wreck my plans
