Two of a Kind

Searching

Hours had gone by of searching. Joyce and Hopper hadn't even stopped to eat. They barely spoke, either. They were too focused, practically holding their breaths the whole time. The tension and pressure to find Will had only grown stronger with each passing hour. It was getting dark now and they each felt their spirits crushing, having found zero trace of Will. Exhausted and defeated, Joyce finally plopped down against a tree in the woods that they had been searching. She tried hard to hold back tears. Harder than she had ever tried not to cry before. For some reason, she needed Hop to see her as strong. She couldn't fall apart. Not in front of him.

Hopper noticed the crunching of Joyce's footsteps behind him stop and turned to see her on the ground, her head tucked into her arms, knees up to her chest, and he ran back to her, sitting on the damp, cold forest floor in front of her.

"Joyce, oh my God, are you okay?" He instinctively put his hand on her shoulder, his eyebrows furrowed in genuine concern for his friend. He felt his heart crack a little when he heard her start to softly cry. She was angry that she couldn't stop herself from crying, but feeling Hopper's hand on her and hearing the concern in his voice, she couldn't help it. She started to sob a little louder now, feeling herself break. She was truly losing that last ounce of hope now. She started to feel like she would never see her son again. What else could she do? What could she try that she hasn't already?

Hopper's eyes started to water and he angrily wiped them. What right did he have to cry? This wasn't about him. And then he realized— he wasn't feeling bad for himself— his heart was breaking for Joyce. He started to feel that same shattering feeling that he felt when his daughter died in his arms, taking her last breath right under him. He felt a profound empathy for Joyce and he started to shake. He couldn't help it either. They had been looking for so long, and this small, broken woman had lost all hope now. That was never a good sign. The mothers were always the last ones to let go. He let himself embrace her now, pulling her in to his chest, and as he sat her on his lap, she hugged him back, hard, crying into his chest as he stroked her soft, wavy hair.

"Hopper, he's really gone, isn't he? What the fuck?! Why?! Why him?? He was such a good boy. What the fuck Hop. Where did he go!" she screamed. He felt all of her anger and pain ricochet out of her and he let it soak into him. He held her tighter and lifted his head so she wouldn't hear him start to cry now too. He had to be strong for her. As he peered over her shoulder, he saw something in the distance. It was a tiny flicker of light. Confused, he squinted, wiping the tears from his eyes so he could see better. It was, yellow? Maybe orange? Then it hit him. Will's jacket. The day he went missing, his bright yellow jacket was nowhere to be found either. It was assumed he was wearing it when he left... or was taken. He hesitated. He wanted to go investigate it. He had to. But he didn't want to alert Joyce. He refused to get her hopes up any further. He slowly positioned her back against the tree and stood up, acting as though he needed some space to pace around and release his own anger. Instead, he half-walked, half-jogged up to that little yellow piece in the distance. When he got to it, his heart stopped and his jaw dropped. He had to cover his mouth to avoid saying anything too soon. It was a small yellow jacket. He was almost certain that it was Will's. He ripped a pair of gloves from his own jacket pocket and put them on to pick up the tattered, banana yellow fabric. He ran back to Joyce. He had to show her. He felt a glimmer of hope rush back into him, and he couldn't keep that from the beautiful woman sobbing in the middle of the forest over her probably-dead son. At least this was something. They had something.

"Joyce! JOYCE!" He was yelling now. His voice was a mixture of fear and excitement. He didn't know what this meant yet, but he needed her to see it. She slowly looked up, trying to collect herself and wipe her face. She turned around, and he saw her eyes go from devastation to confusion to shock. She looked like she just saw a ghost. She shot up off the ground and turned towards Hop.

"Woah! What the—" She didn't have words. Her mouth hung open and Hop gently handed her the jacket, trying to catch his breath from the adrenaline rush. Joyce, speechless, slowly took the jacket from him, looked into his eyes, and hugged it. She inhaled its scent as a tear fell onto it. Hopper didn't question it. He assumed it only smelled like animals and dirt by now, but he knew he would do the same if it was his daughters jacket and she was missing. She started to cry again, into the jacket, but Hopper saw a slight smile on her face. She had hope. She felt that this was a good sign. There was a clue. Her boy had been here.

Joyce fell to her knees, uncontrollably sobbing now, never letting the jacket go. Hopper didn't think twice. He picked her up and carried her the half mile back to his truck. He buried his nose into her hair and held her body tight against his. This type of moment didn't need a discussion and neither of them wasted a second feeling weird about it. They had decided to do this thing together. They would find Will Byers together. It was an unspoken agreement. He placed her in the passenger seat and she held his hand tightly in gratitude as Hop started the engine. She wore her son's jacket on her own shivering body now. She was small enough to fit into a twelve-year-old boy's jacket. She looked so small and fragile, Hopper thought as he looked back at the road, speeding to get back to the police station.