Chapter Text
Hawkins 1985
Joyce knelt on the floor of her new living room, surrounded by a fortress of cardboard boxes that seemed to multiply every time she turned her back. The house was smaller than the one in Lenora Hills – cozier, she told herself, though the word felt like a thin veil over the truth. It was cheaper - that was the real reason, and far enough from Lonnie’s shadow to breathe without the constant ache in her chest. She sliced open another box and pulled out a stack of mismatched plates wrapped in old newspaper. She paused and wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was barely noon, but the silence pressed in, heavy with ghosts of arguments she’d left behind. Her kids were at school and at least they were making friends; she thought, a small spark of hope flickering amid the exhaustion.
Will had come home the day before with a shy smile, chattering about these boys – Mike, Lucas and Dustin – who shared his obsession with that Dungeons & Dragons game. It warmed her heart to see him light up like that. Back in Lenora Hills he had been so withdrawn, shrinking into himself whenever Lonnie raised his voice.
Jonathan, too, seemed to be finding his footing in Hawkins. He had mentioned his classmates, Steve and Robin in passing, and even Nancy, though he played it down cool, like it was no big deal. Joyce smiled faintly at the memory of his casual shrug over breakfast that morning, but she knew better. He was protective, always had been, carrying the weight of the family on his shoulders. She wished she could lift it from him, give him the carefree life he deserved. But here they were, starting over in Hawkins, a place that felt both quaint and isolated, with its quiet streets and friendly but distant neighbors.
She unpacked a framed photo with her and the boys in it – at the beach two summers ago – before everything unraveled. Lonnie wasn’t in it – he had been “working late” that day. Good riddance, she thought, the bitterness rising like bile before she pushed it down. This move was meant for them, for a fresh start without the yelling and broken promises. Yet doubt gnawed at her.
Was Hawkins really better?
The town was pretty, sure, with its rolling hills and that charming downtown, but it was small, the kind of place where secrets might fester if you weren’t careful. And money was tight. She still waited for the job approval, until then, every penny stretched thin.
The phone rang midway, jolting her from her rhythm. She pushed herself to her feet and hurried to the wall-mounted telephone, half-expecting it to be Lonnie with some stupid excuses or demands. Instead a friendly voice introduced himself as Donald Melvald from the General Store.
“Mrs. Byers? We’ve reviewed your application, and we would love for you to start next Monday. Eight a.m. – does that work?” Joyce’s heart skipped a beat, a flicker of relief slicing the fog of uncertainty.
“Oh Hi… well, y-yes, absolutely. Thank you so much.” After a short chat she hung up, leaning against the wall and a smile tugging at her lips. It wasn’t much – a retail job stocking shelves and ringing up customers – but it was a start, which meant a steady paycheck to anchor her family in this new life. The darkness felt a little less oppressive now, like a crack in the clouds letting in just enough light to keep going and pushing forward. She dove back into unpacking with renewed energy, humming an old tune under her breath as she arranged pots and pans in the cabinets.
A few days melted into a steady routine, the edges of their new life in Hawkins beginning to soften as Joyce and her boys found their footing. She immersed herself in the everyday tasks – finishing off the remaining boxes, scouring the town for affordable groceries and mapping out the streets that led to her upcoming job at Melvald’s. The boys handled school on their own terms. Jonathan caught rides with his budding circle of friends. He’d even returned one night with a Polaroid snapshot from a group hangout, a tentative grin on his face that chipped away at the worry she’d carried from California.
Will adapted with surprising ease. He became a fixture at the Wheelers’ house, zipping over after classes for those marathon Dungeons & Dragons sessions, his tales of heroic quests spilling out over dinner like a balm to Joyce’s ears. One afternoon, the front door burst open, Will tumbling in, trailed by his three new friends, their faces flushed from the bike ride and whatever adventure they’d concocted on the way. In perfect, rehearsed sync, they chorused, “Hello, Mrs. Byers!”
She paused midway in the kitchen, a dish towel in hand, her heart swelling at the sight. She was glad – more than glad, really – that Will had found friends so effortlessly, clicking with them in a way that made the move feel like a gift. These boys were pulling her son out of the shell Lonnie’s temper had forced him into.
Yet even amid these small victories, that nagging outsider feeling lingered, like a shadow at the edge of her vision. Hawkins was welcoming on the surface, with its picturesque downtown and friendly waves from neighbors, but Joyce couldn’t shake the sense of eyes watching, judging her frayed jeans and secondhand station wagon. Errands took her through the heart of it all; the general store, the library, the diner for a quick coffee. She pushed along for the boys’ sake, telling herself this was progress.
Then came the night that turned her life upside down.
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Will
“Whoa, it’s almost eight? My mom’s gonna be so mad!”
Everyone jumped up, stuffing dices into bags and folding maps all messily. Snack crumbs flew everywhere.
“Sorry, Will,” Mike said, patting his back as they ran up the stairs.
“It’s alright. Time flies when you’re beating dragons! Thanks for the campaign.” Will grinned, but inside his tummy twisted a little. He wasn’t supposed to be out this late. Mom would worry. He hopped on his bike in the driveway, waving as Lucas and Dustin pedaled away fast too.
The night air felt cool and zippy on his face as he started riding. Streetlights buzzed like sleepy bees, but only a minute later, the sky went crazy. Rain poured down super hard and the wind whooshed so strong it almost pushed him over. Will squeezed his eyes against the wet, his bike slipping on the shiny road. Lightning zapped bright, showing blurry houses and trees, but the wind roared like a monster and shoved him sideways. He swerved around a giant puddle, and then the road turned bumpy with rocks and dirt, and before he knew it, he was lost in the woods. His heart thumped as he stopped with his feet squishing in mud.
Where am I?
The path he thought was quick disappeared into dark nothing. There were no houses, no lights, no cars – just woods that went on forever, like in a bad dream. Panic bubbled up, making his throat tight, like those nights back home when Dad yelled and everything felt scary. He was lost, all alone, and even if he yelled, no one would hear over the storm.
He dug in his backpack for his walkie talkie, but his fingers grabbed…. Nothing. Oh no. He checked again, but it was gone. He must have left it in the basement, next to the pretzels.
“Dumb, dumb.” He whispered, his voice tiny in the rain.
What do I do now?
He curled up by a big tree, water dripping down his neck, trying not to cry as the dark got closer and scarier. His teeth chattered from the cold.
A rustle nearby made him freeze. Was it a bear? Or a goblin? He peeked through the rainy haze, his heart thumped wild, and spotted someone weaving between the trees – a girl his age, with short hair flattened wet, swinging a flashlight beam that sliced the dark like a superhero laser. Will’s pulse sped up… but wait, he knew her face. From school! That quiet girl in the back row, always glued to the red-haired one. Max? He’d spotted them at lunch, heads together, laughing about stuff, but her name? He had no idea.
“You there!” she shouted over the howling wind, jogging close. Her light bobbed toward him, careful not to blind him. “Are you hurt? What are you doing out here?”
Will wobbled on his feet, legs feeling like wiggly noodles. “N-no, I’m fine… just lost. The rain came so fast and I can’t find the road.”
The girl nodded and stepped under the tree with him. Up close she looked kinda tough too, with mud on her sneakers and a jacket that was way too big.
“I’m Jane,” she said, thrusting out a hand. It was icy and drippy, but she shook like she meant it. “But you can call me El. Everyone does.”
“El, cool name.” Will repeated, shaking her hand. It felt weird, like meeting a character from a story. “I’m Will.” And El nodded with a small smile.
“My house is right over there. Come on, grab your bike. I can ask Dad if he drives you home.” She grabbed his bike handle, helping push it through the mud. Will followed, relief washing over him. The rain kept dimming down, as they reached the house… or what could have been a house? It was a creaky old cabin, made of dark logs. One window glowed, like the haunted shack in those scary stories Dustin loved. Will’s tummy flipped like on a rollercoaster.
“Th-that’s where you live? It looks like…” El’s giggle interrupted his words, as he leaned his bike against the soggy wall. “Nah, it’s fine once you are in it. No ghosts or anything. Promise!” She pounded on the door and it groaned open, making Will flinch like a cat.
A giant man blocked the whole doorway, tall as a basketball player with a scruffy beard and wild hair. His eyes stuck on Will immediately. His heart hammered faster than the rain – this guy was huge! What if he got mad? What if he shouted like Dad did sometimes?
“El? What in the – kid, you’re drenched! What the hell happened out there?” His voice was gruff, like a bear waking up.
“Dad, this is Will – from school,” she explained quickly, tugging Will to her. “He got lost in the storm and he couldn’t find his way back home. Can you drive him home please?” The man eyed him for a second, then sighed and nodded.
“Alright, alright. Get in here before you both catch a cold.” He stepped back and the kids entered the cabin. Her Dad grabbed a wool blanket from the couch and tossed it over Will’s shoulders. “Here, dry off, kid. You’re dripping everywhere.” He rummaged in a drawer and pulled out an old flannel shirt, way too big but soft and clean. “And put this on too. Bathroom’s over there.”
Will clutched the blanket as the fear melted a tiny bit. “Th-thanks, Mr. …?”
“Jim Hopper. Call me Hop,” the big man grunted, but not in a mean way. “Now hurry up so I can drive you home.”
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Joyce
She paced the living room, peering out the window every few minutes. Where the hell was he? Hawkins wasn’t big, but the roads wound strangely. Her mind raced to worst-case scenarios, accidents, wrong turns, the kind of thoughts that had plagued her since Lonnie’s volatility had shattered their home. She was seconds from dialing the police when headlights swept across the driveway, cutting through the downpour. A truck – no, a Blazer - pulled up, its engine rumbling to a stop.
Joyce flung the door open as she stepped onto the porch. Will climbed out of the passenger side, his backpack slung over one shoulder. Relief crashed over her, hot and overwhelming, but it mingled with confusion as a tall, broad-shouldered man climbed from the driver’s seat, his beard shadowing a stern face under the porch light. Beside him stood a girl, maybe twelve or thirteen, her eyes wide and curious.
“Will! Oh my God, where have you been?” Joyce rushed forward, pulling her son into a fierce hug, ignoring the wet chill seeping in her sweater.
“I- I got lost,” he mumbled into her shoulder, words tumbling over each other. “On the way back. And then El-“ He pulled back just enough to point toward the girl standing nearby. “She found me and took me to her place.”
Joyce’s hands slid over his arms as she checked him over, her fingers catching on a flannel that clearly wasn’t his. The shirt hung off him, sleeves rolled far past his wrists. Understanding clicked into place as she lifted her gaze. She straightened, gratitude flooding her voice as she turned to him.
“Thank you, really. I don’t know what I would’ve done if he hadn’t made it home.” She extended her hand instinctively, stepping forward to shake his. “I’m Joyce-“
The man stiffened, putting just enough distance between them that her hand hung awkwardly in the rain. His posture went rigid, blue eyes flicking away from hers, like a wall slamming down. He gave a short nod instead.
“No trouble,“ he muttered, already turning toward his Blazer. The rejection stung sharper than she expected, but she let her hand drop, forcing a small smile.
“Wait – please, come in. I’ve got dinner on the stove. Spaghetti – plenty for everyone. It’s the least I can do.”
El’s face lit up, a spark of interest breaking past her reserve.
“Spaghetti?” she echoed, glancing up at her dad with hopeful eyes. But he shook his head, his jaw set.
“Appreciate it, but we’ve got to get home. Another time, maybe.” His tone left no room for argument, though Joyce caught the flicker of disappointment in El’s posture, mirroring her own.
“Oh.” Joyce nodded. “Of course. I understand.” She hesitated, then tried once more. “I didn’t catch your name.”
He paused at her words, one hand on the driver’s door. For a split second, she thought he might ignore her, driving away without a backward glance. But he turned halfway, those piercing blue eyes meeting hers just long enough to make her breath hitch.
“Hopper,” he said. “Jim Hopper. This is my kid. Jane.”
Joyce blinked, tilting her head slightly.
Jane? Wasn't it supposed to be El?
The girl waved awkwardly from beside him, offering a shy, tentative smile. “Hi.”
“Jim,” Joyce repeated, nodding as if committing it to memory. It suited him. “Well, thank you again, Jim. And you too, Jane. If you ever change your mind about that spaghetti…”
Hopper gave a brief nod, already ushering El toward the passenger side.
“Yeah. Maybe.”
They left as quickly as they’d arrived, the Blazer’s taillights fading into the rain-slicked night. Joyce tugged Will inside, shutting the door firmly against the storm. She grabbed a towel and draped it around his shoulders, rubbing his arms briskly.
“Honey, what on earth happened? You were supposed to be home by eight. I was two seconds away from calling the cops.”
Will ducked his head, toweling his hair with a sheepish expression.
“I’m sorry, Mom. The game ran long and… we lost track in time. Then on the way back, I… I took a wrong turn. So I ended up near the woods, and I panicked a little.”
Joyce led him to the kitchen table, pulling out a chair and guiding him into it. The spaghetti sat steaming in a bowl she’d prepared for him, the sauce rich with garlic and tomatoes.
“Panicked? Will, you could’ve been out there all night. This town is not like Lenora. What if something happened?”
He poked at the pasta with his fork.
“I know, I know. But then El showed up – she’s in my class. She’s the one who hangs out with Max, the girl with the red hair? Anyway, she was out there… I don’t know, walking or something, and she offered to take me to her place.”
Joyce sat across from him, her own plate untouched as she watched him eat.
“Her home… or more like a cabin. It was kinda creepy at first. But inside, it’s okay – just small, with a bunch of old stuff. El was nice, though. And her dad wasn’t mean or anything. Just asked if I was okay, offered me a shirt and then drove me home right away.”
Jim Hopper. Joyce repeated the name silently, like testing it in her mind. It felt unfamiliar, like so much else about Hawkins. She’d barely scratched the surface.
“Well, I’m glad they helped you. But next time, you call me if you’re running late, okay? And stay at the Wheelers’ until I can pick you up.”
Will looked up, his brown eyes earnest, a smile on his lips.
“I will, Mom. Promise.”
She smiled back, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand, and finally picked at her own food. But her thoughts drifted back to Hopper and El. Her gaze slid to the oversized flannel Will still wore. She’d need to give that back. For now, she focused on her boy – warm, safe and home where he belonged.