Jim Hopper sat at the kitchen table, his head in his hands. The pounding in his skull felt like a jackhammer drilling relentlessly behind his eyes. Everything in his life had spun out of control since Will Byers went missing. But it wasn’t just the search for the boy that weighed on him, it was the weight of his own ghosts, the guilt he carried every day.
His daughter, Sara, had slipped away from him, one shallow breath at a time. He hadn’t been able to save her. He still felt his wife, Diane, walking away, her heart breaking in sync with their daughter’s last breath, and he couldn’t follow her. He was hollow, broken, and no amount of whisky or work could fill the emptiness. Now, three kids were sitting under his roof; Harry, Sirianna, and El, kids who had their own tragedies, their own broken parts, and Hopper had no idea how to help them either.
Benny’s murder had been the beginning of this mess. Hopper had barely processed losing his friend when Harry found El in the woods. Hopper hadn’t even hesitated; he took her in because that’s who he was, he fixed things. Or at least, he tried.
Now, though, the kitchen was full of a tension that had nothing to do with the Upside Down or the monsters lurking in it. This was something messier, something he didn’t know how to navigate, human emotion. Hopper opened his eyes, letting the room sharpen into focus.
Sirianna was sitting at the far end of the table, her arms crossed tightly across her chest, her face drawn into a cold mask. She had fought with Billy earlier, and though Hopper wasn’t sure of all the details, he knew enough. Billy had told her he loved her, blurted it out, high and drunk, and Sirianna had shut down. Hopper knew that feeling too well. When you’ve been hurt before, the idea of letting someone in, of loving someone, felt like walking into a fire.
Across the table, Harry was slouched low in his chair, looking more miserable than usual. He hadn’t said a word since coming home, but Hopper knew why. He’d heard about Steve Harrington asking some girl to be his fake girlfriend at lunch. It wasn’t real, but it had hit Harry hard, not that Harry even understood why it bothered him so much. Hopper could see it though. Harry was in love with Steve, and that realization was going to rip him apart if he didn’t figure it out soon.
Hopper rubbed his temples, trying to block out the constant noise in his head. His own guilt for being unable to protect his daughter, the stress of trying to hold this strange new family together. He just wanted a moment of peace. But life didn’t seem inclined to give him one.
The kitchen door creaked open. Hopper didn’t even need to look up. He could feel the air shift as El walked in. But something was off. He glanced up and immediately felt his headache spike.
El was holding a raccoon.
“El, what the hell is that?” His voice was rougher than he intended, frustration boiling over from a day full of too much.
El blinked at him, her face blank, her big brown eyes staring up at him innocently. “It looked lonely,” she said softly, cradling the raccoon like it was a lost kitten.
Hopper blinked back at her, momentarily stunned. “Lonely?” He stared at the creature in her arms. “El, it’s a raccoon. It probably has rabies!”
“It doesn’t,” she said, her voice still quiet but firm. She had a way of stating things like facts, like she couldn’t be wrong.
Hopper ran a hand down his face, trying to rein in his temper. “We can’t have a raccoon in the house, El. It’s a wild animal!”
El’s lip quivered, and for a moment, Hopper felt like the worst person in the world. She wasn’t just a kid; she was a kid who’d spent most of her life alone, locked in a lab, and now she saw something else that looked as lonely as she once had. Of course she wanted to help it.
“I’ll get you a cat,” Hopper offered, his voice softening. “But you’ve gotta let that thing go, okay?”
El looked down at the raccoon, and for a second, Hopper thought she might argue. But then she nodded and turned, slowly opening the door. The raccoon scurried out into the night, disappearing into the woods. Hopper let out a sigh of relief, but the weight in the room remained.
Sirianna broke the silence first, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not like I didn’t want to say it,” she murmured, not looking at anyone. “I just… couldn’t.” She took a breath, her shoulders tense. “Billy told me he loved me. And I just froze. I don’t even know what love is.”
Her voice cracked on the last word, and Hopper’s chest tightened. He knew that pain, the fear of love, the fear of loss. He saw it in her eyes. She wasn’t just scared of Billy; she was scared of herself, of what love might cost her.
“You’re not broken, Siri,” Hopper said quietly. His voice was rough but gentle, like he was trying to reach her through the thick walls she’d built around herself. “You’ve been through a lot. That doesn’t mean you can’t figure out love. It just… takes time.”
She glanced up at him, her face drawn, her eyes uncertain. “What if I can’t? What if I never figure it out?”
Hopper leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “You will. One day at a time, alright? You don’t have to have all the answers right now.”
Sirianna didn’t respond, but she looked down at her hands, her expression a little softer. Hopper took it as a win, however small.
Harry, on the other hand, hadn’t moved. He was hunched over, staring at the table like it had personally wronged him. He was usually the quiet one, the brooding one, but tonight it felt heavier. Hopper could feel the tension radiating from him like a storm waiting to break.
“Harry,” Hopper said gently, “you’ve been quiet. What’s going on?”
Harry shifted slightly but didn’t look up. “Steve asked some girl to pretend to be his girlfriend,” he muttered. “Like… it was some kind of joke.”
Sirianna glanced at him, a flicker of sympathy in her eyes, but Harry didn’t notice. He was too wrapped up in his own mess of emotions.
“Why does it bother you?” Hopper asked carefully, even though he already knew the answer.
Harry’s jaw tightened. “It just does, okay? He’s… He doesn’t care. Not really. He’s just… hiding.”
Hopper nodded slowly, piecing it together. Steve wasn’t just hiding behind a fake girlfriend, he was hiding from his own feelings. And Harry was caught in the middle of it, unable to see that Steve was just as scared as he was.
“You should talk to him,” Hopper said after a moment. “I know it’s not easy, but bottling it up isn’t gonna help.”
Harry shook his head, his voice tight. “He doesn’t want to talk to me. He doesn’t care, Hopper. He just wants to fit in, and I’m… I don’t fit.”
Hopper’s heart ached for the kid. He knew what it was like to feel like an outsider, like you didn’t belong anywhere. But he also knew that keeping everything inside would only make it worse.
“Listen,” Hopper said, his tone firm but not harsh. “If Steve’s your friend, you talk to him. Maybe he’s scared, maybe he’s confused, but you’ve got to be honest about how you feel. And if he’s worth it, he’ll listen.”
Harry looked up at him, his eyes filled with uncertainty and frustration. “What if he doesn’t feel the same?”
Hopper sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Then at least you’ll know. But you can’t keep this to yourself forever. It’ll eat you alive.”
The room fell into silence again, but this time it wasn’t as suffocating. The tension was still there, but it felt like something had shifted, like the weight had been lifted just a little.
And then, just as Hopper allowed himself a moment of peace, there was a scratching at the door.
The raccoon was back.
Hopper groaned, rubbing his temples. “Maybe tomorrow will be better,” he muttered to himself. But deep down, he knew better.