𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲

i. stuck here.

      

     JAMES HOPPER II was in his room in his dad's trailer when the man walked in and he glanced up, "can I help you?" He asked as he continued to write, his eyes going back to the page in front of him. He had come up with a new story again, about a boy who got lost in the woods and couldn't escape them. He wrote that the boy didn't mind, that he could live off the wilderness.

"That Byers kid went missing last night." Jim told his son who just nods. "Wait, Jonathan or Will?" He asked as he glanced up. "The younger one." He replied with and James sighs. "Okay, dad," he says and Jim sighs. "I want you to know there is a curfew and I don't want you out late." He says and James let out a deep breath through his nose.

"Okay." He said, but he and the other James knew well enough that it was a fib. He always goes out, sneaks out late and hangs around in the woods way too much especially since they live by the lake. "I want you to promise that." Jim said and James sighed. "Yeah, fine, I'll be here, the whole time. Promise." He told him and Jim nods, sighing and putting his sheriff hat back on.

Once he knew Jim was gone and on his little search for Will Byers, James just took out his pack of cigarettes and went to go stand on the balcony. He stood there with wool socks on and his boots on, he had a blanket wrapped around his legs and his coat on. He sat onto a chair and sighed, taking out his notepad as he lit his cigarette.

He sat there and wrote for an hour or so, and once the hour passed, he realized he had smoked about six cigarettes by now. He didn't like it when he smoked so much, it wasn't good for him and he knew that but it helped him when his mind got to filled with ideas he wrote down on a separate notepad from his writing notepad.

If there was one thing he wanted since he was a kid; it was a typewriter. He wanted one before his little sister passed away, he asked his mom for one and she kissed his forehead and told him they can get him one when he was a little older and they were stable financially, especially with Sara going to the hospital a lot. He missed that kid so badly, it didn't help thinking about how it happened so recently either, when he was twelve. She was only seven, she would've been thirteen by now.

He remembered when his dad would read Anne of Green Gables to her and he would sit by her bed, holding her hand gently in his and whenever their dad would be done reading the book because she would get sleepy, he'd kiss her hand and tell her he loved her very much. It hurt.

It hurt to think about. He sighed and flipped to another page, continuing with his story as he took out another cigarette, his seventh one of the night. Once he was done writing for now, he went back inside with his supplies and laid onto his bed, putting on headphones and playing Queen. He loved music. He admired how music was made. He played one of his mixes after playing an album of theirs, A Night at the Opera; one of his favourites. His mixtape had many songs on them.

He always thought his inspiration came from many things; the hurt he felt when Sara died, the hurt he felt when his mom left him and his dad, the hurt he felt when he found out his mom didn't want him and stuck him with Jim, because that meant he just reminded her of Sara too much, which he probably reminded Jim of too, he didn't have friends here, he didn't like being in Hawkins because of it. He moved here a year after Sara, Jim started to not like the city because of what they went through, and he understood completely.

But he didn't wanna start new. Middle school wasn't all that great, everyone thought he was poor, everyone thought he was mean. He was just a grieving boy of a girl he was the big brother to, and that, that was a big change. Who was there for him to look after and protect now?

It didn't help either that his father was such a heavy drinker, he practically had to fend for himself once they got to Hawkins, having to cook for himself, wake himself up every morning and drive himself to school. His father would get drunk off his mind, smoke his cigarettes on that damn couch and would even sometimes go out, find some woman at the bar who he would bring home later that night, thankfully James didn't ever have to be traumatized by the noise, having headphones for his radio that was always by his bed.

He sometimes felt like he was alone, not being able to tell anyone anything, not having a best friend for that like everyone else did, not having a big brother or big sister for that, especially with his mom back in New York and him all the way here with his alcoholic father. But at least Jim never raised his hand to his son, no, thankfully not. Ever.

James would've been more messed up than he already was, probably would've started sneaking beers from the fridge back to his room, maybe even started to take drugs too. But he never had done any of that, thanks to his dad always lecturing him about the dangers of it. Jim had even told him that if he were to ever try it, he'd get grounded until he was thirty. Jim always exaggerated with that so it was probably only until he was eighteen.

James always wondered what it would be like if he was with Diane, his mother instead. He'd probably be practically helping raise her baby. Jim probably didn't know, but he did because of the letters she sent to him monthly. He never responded but because of the fact she keeps sending them anyway, he figured that she just needs to keep him updated and whatnot. He didn't like that. He didn't need to know how happier she is with Bill and her baby with him. It's like she started over.

James may have moved away from New York, but he didn't get to feel that, like he started over. He was reminded constantly about it whenever he saw his dad's looks at him since he, Diane and Sara shared similarities, their bright blue eyes. The only similarity between him and his father was probably his light brown hair. He figured it was partially why Jim drank so much, to not focus on that fact that his eyes were like Diane's and Sara's.

James sat up slowly, Love My Way was blasting on his headphones and that's when he took them off and heard his dad come in. He put them back on and laid down, closing his eyes. When the bedroom door opened, he stayed laying down and then it closed. He sighed and laid onto his back.

Sometimes James felt like he wasn't where he's suppose to be, that the body he was in isn't his and that he could float out any second. But it never happens and he's stuck here.

authors note locals: steve is so hot omg ugh i just wanna be his girlfriend 😍🤤🥵
me, eating my bag of chips nonchalantly: he already had a boyfriend named james