Jopper oneshots <3

Broken.

Joyce was sat in the motel's kitchen chair, eyes raking over Hopper —who was sat opposite to her— who was eyeing his food strangely, she could sense something wrong, something hidden beneath that facade.

Hopper was always one to wolf down food, so him burning holes into his plate as he poked at the food with his fork made her slightly uneasy.

Of course, she couldn't expect him to be the same man he was eight month ago, she didn't know why she was expecting him to just act like everything was normal after months of starvation and torture. Her stomach flipped, suddenly ennerved with herself, for even thinking that.

She glanced at him again and watched as he picked up a bit of steak and brought it up slowly, taking it in his mouth hesitantly, sighing when the taste of it hit his tongue.

She felt tears prickling at the sight, those goddamned bastards had tortured him to the point where he was simply afraid of eating, taking slow bites as if afraid someone were to punish him for eating too fast, or how they starved him so much it left him with little desire to eat anything at all, feeling sick each time food was brought.

She took in a shaky inhale, trying to gather herself, trying not to fall in tears from the simple sight of Hopper not being able to eat. She gulped the feeling away and blinked the glimpses of tears that pooled in her eyes.

His eyes fluttered shut for mere seconds, and she found herself drinking in his face.

His face was different —aswell as the rest of his body for account— malnourished, his jawline prominent now. His eyes hid a deep darkness behind them, one he tried so hard to keep her closed off from, keeping her away from everything hurting him, hiding behind that damned 'I'm fine' pokerface.

She stared at him, wondering how the man that was once her oxygen; her motive to breathe, the man she needed around her keeping her grounded, the one she so desperately sought out every single little touch from, needing to breathe him in greedily like he was hers too keep, even though he wasn't in the slightest.

She wondered how she had let him slip away, let herself suffocate without him, grief drowning her as she desperately sought after her oxygen. Feeling herself give up whenever she reached out her hand and found nothing, letting herself run out of breath as she kneeled, weeping.

Now, he was here infront of her, but she still couldn't breathe, an uneasy feeling roaming around her, beckoning her to come closer to him and steal his own breath, to press her lips to his.

She wanted to, desperately, but she found herself holding back as she stared deep into his eyes. He was merely the wisp of a man, his body thr only thing grounding him to earth, seemingly the only part of his not lost to the cold, bitter nights in that hell. She felt herself holding back because when she stared at him, she felt his body was not his, he wasnt there, his body merely a vessel to keep his numb mind moving. She didn't want to make a first move, instead settling waiting for him to do it, however, she also felt the desperate need to sink into his comfort.

She stood up, watching as his eyes followed her up, confused. That little ember, what was left of him, lighting up slightly more whenever he glanced at her.

She walked over to him, scootching the chair on his side closer to his own, then sitting down beside him, pulling her own plate over.

She sighed, and allowed herself to lean against his arm, closing her eyes in relief as being close to him made her breathe a little easier, some of the unresolved tension and awkwardness dimming as he wordlessly wrapped his arm around her. An understanding silence hanging between them both.