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After all the craziness they’ve been through it was nice to have some days to relax and forget about the stress of the outside world. Hopper nursed a beer as he watched the kids play in Steve Harrington’s back pool while Hopper manned the grill.
Joyce was laying out with El and Max as some of the boys goofed in the pool. Robin, Jonathan, and Nancy were relaxing along the side of the pool with Nancy yelling at her younger brother when he would splash her during his horsing around. Harrington and Lucas were sitting along the side of the pool closest to Hopper talking and allowing Harrington to keep offering to help Hopper with any of the grillings. He apparently wanted to learn how to grill and Hopper was happy to teach him after he got the grill up to a good temperature.
Even now he couldn’t help his instincts as a cop to listen to a little to what everyone was saying. He heard the Sinclair kid give an exasperated sigh and saw him slump from the corner of his eye. “I don’t know what to do about them!”
Hopper saw Harrington soaking up the rays and cool as a cucumber and replied, “I don’t know, have you tried talking to them?”
Sinclair groaned. “I can’t talk to them. That’s why I’m talking to you!”
The beer turned sour in Hopper’s mouth and he forced himself to swallow past the lump in his throat.
I don’t know, kid. Why don’t you try talking to them?
It doesn’t work. I can’t talk to them. That’s why I’m talking to you.
Hopper saw a hazy vision of big brown eyes and a kid tucked into himself looking at Hopper like he was his last chance.
Hopper was openly staring as he saw Harrington straighten up and turned to face Sinclair and talk to him and mimicking Sinclair’s body language. Clearly taking the kid’s plight seriously and offering whatever advice he could.
The beer was pushing itself back up his throat and forced Hopper to turn and spit whatever he could out.
He remembers. He remembers this same situation of beer in his coffee cup talking to a young kid when he had just returned to Hawkins and was still so stuck in his own grief over Sarah to care about anyone else.
I can’t talk to them. That’s why I’m talking to you.
Hopper stared at Harrington who had managed to make Sinclair smile and patted his back.
He ignored Steve's cry for help. Steve had told him about his parents and Hopper ignored him because he couldn’t get past his own pain to save someone else or to listen.
Hopper now remembers - Steve Harrington maybe 11 - 12? Bruised and with a bloody and fat lip sitting on a swing at night in the park.
I can’t talk to them. That’s why I’m talking to you.
Hopper felt his chest clench.
I just wish they would stop hitting me.
Hopper stomped over to the house as his anger grabbed everyone’s attention from their fun pool day.
“Harrington, come with me,” Hopper ordered slamming the sliding door open and hustling inside without looking back.
When Harrington walked in Hoper was leaning over the kitchen sink trying to not throw up.
“Hey, Hopper? Is everything alright?”
Hopper took a deep breath and walked over to the dining room table and pulled out two chairs away from the view of the backyard. They needed privacy for this. “Sit,” Hopper pointed to the chair next to him and tried to calm himself down. He was clearly making Harrington nervous which is the last thing he needed.
“If-if I did something wrong, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to!” The kid began blurting out.
Hopper scrubbed his hands over his face and leaned across the table. “You’re not in trouble.” He started which seemed to somewhat work in getting Harrington - Steve to relax.
“You’re not in trouble.” He repeated trying to figure out where to go from here. “I need you to be completely honest with me.”
Steve nodded.
“Kid - Steve, did you ever tell me about your parents abusing you?”
To give the kid credit he didn’t immediately bolt away, but he didn’t exactly answer either. He just gave an awkward laugh. “I think you may have scared everyone out there. We should probably head back out-“
“No, Steve, I need you to answer me. Yes or no: did you ever tell me about what was really going on between you and your parents?”
Steve chewed his lower lip and tried to avoid looking at Hopper and began to clinch his hands in his lap.
“Please,” Hopper placed one of his large hands on Steve’s.
Steve still wouldn’t look at him. “When I was 12,” Hopper felt his own hand close around Steve’s in anger at himself, a silent apology, and encouragement to keep speaking. He was listening. “I… My parents, they…You found me at the park.”
That’s right. Hopper could remember the swings and thinking of the last time he had pushed Sarah on the swings.
“It wasn’t the worst I’ve had, but I didn’t want to be around my parents anymore. You saw me and told me to go home.” Steve gave a watery laugh. “And I started crying. So you sat on the swings with me and I just started talking and - and I told you what they did.” Steve took tense stuttering breaths but still didn’t look at Hopper. “You told me to talk to them.”
I don’t know, kid. Why don’t you try talking to them?
It doesn’t work. I can’t talk to them. That’s why I’m talking to you.
Steve gave a short manic laugh. “I tried talking to them. Turns out, it’s better to keep my mouth shut.”
Hopper heaved out a sob and curled his body in on himself as he continued to squeeze Steve’s hands in his right hand. He remembers the doe-eyed kid crying with a black eye tucking his feet into a ball on the swing and while Hopper was kicking the pebbles on the ground thinking of his own child and his own pain.
How could Steve look at him or trust him?
“I never told anyone after talking to you.” Hopper looked up at Steve who was staring at their hands as tears silently ran down his face. “Thankfully, that same year my parents started leaving on their trips which means I only see them maybe 3 or 4 times a year.”
They sat there in the awkward silence and Hopper’s only saving grace was that Steve hadn’t lashed out no matter how much he deserved it.
“I always assumed you were on my parent’s payroll.”
The kid had thought about that night and how his own police chief had failed him.
“No,” Hopper shook his head and sat up. “I’m gonna be honest with you: I was drunk when I found you. I was drunk on the job because I was still so broken after - after -“
“Yeah,” Steve exhaled and wiped at his eyes.
“I didn’t remember even talking to you until I overheard you and the Sinclair kid talking. Then something clicked, and I remembered. And… I failed you, and I’m sorry.” Steve finally looked at him and looked like he was about to apologize. “No, Steve, you did the right thing and I fucked up. There’s nothing that will change that, but I want you to know I’m sorry. I don’t know how you can be in the same room as me, but I’m happy I’ve gotten to know you. You’ve become a great young man.”
Steve was openly crying now and Hopper leaned over and took him into an embrace. ”You didn’t deserve any of it, and I’m sorry.” That’s all Hopper could offer him was apologies as he held him close.
“I was so mad at you for the longest time.” Steve sobbed into his shoulder.
“You should still be mad at me.” Hopper rubbed his hand up and down Steve's back.
Steve shook his head and carefully pulled away. “You’re different now. I knew eventually you weren’t getting paid by my parents or that I didn’t matter. It’s easier knowing you just forgot.” Steve shrugged. “I also remember you smelled like booze and then just assumed that’s how adults were. But you’re different now and all this Upside Down bullshit - I know it wasn’t personal back then and just like I’m not the same person I was before I met Nance and them - you’re - I’m glad I have you on my side.”
Hopper pulled him back in for another hug. “I’m here for you now, and I will be for the rest of my life.”