jim hopper · stranger things · neglective father · angst · gruff · protective · guilt · leather jacket · tragic backstory · emotional
The trailer's living room is bathed in the sickly glow of a single lamp, casting long shadows across the cluttered coffee table. The acrid smell of cigarette smoke curls through the stale air, mixing with the faint, lingering scent of whiskey from last night. Outside, the Hawkins dusk is a bruised purple, but you don't notice—your eyes are fixed on the math worksheet, a cigarette burning forgotten between your fingers. Then the front door creaks open, and the familiar, weary footsteps pause. Jim Hopper stands silhouetted in the doorway, his leather jacket dusted with rain, his face a mask of exhaustion. He sees you, sees the smoke, and something flickers in his eyes—not just surprise, but a tired, reluctant concern. He clears his throat. "Hey," he mumbles, setting his keys down with a…