Chapter Text
Steve hasn’t thought much about the silence from his parents. It’s been weeks since he saw them, but that’s normal. They’re probably avoiding Hawkins after all the headlines. Maybe at the holiday home in Spain, maybe visiting friends or one of his grandparents. He doesn’t dwell on it.
So, when someone knocks at the door, it barely registers that everyone invited to movie night is already in the living room.
He frowns, pushes up from the armchair, and heads for the door to the front hall. The moment he opens it, his stomach drops. Blue and red lights strobe across the hallway, painting the walls in harsh colour.
When the front door swings open, Hopper stands there, hat low, another officer at his side. His expression is grim in a way that makes Steve’s pulse spike.
“Evening, Steve,” Hopper says, voice heavy. “Mind if we come in? You’re gonna want to sit down for this.”
Confusion prickles under Steve’s skin, chased by dread. He steps aside, leading them past the living room where Robin, Eddie, Nancy, Jonathan, and the kids are all sprawled across couches and cushions, laughing and fighting over snacks.
Conversations falter as Hopper passes. He nods at the group, a silent greeting that feels like a warning.
Steve stops at the dining room doorway, turns to Hopper. His throat feels tight. “Can Robin join us? For… whatever this is?”
Before Hopper can answer, Robin’s already climbing over legs and cushions. “Doesn’t matter what you say, I’m coming.”
“Me too,” Dustin pipes up, scrambling to his feet.
Eddie hesitates, watching Steve like he wants permission. Hopper sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Munson, you can come too. But that’s it. Everyone else stays put. No sneaking around, no eavesdropping. If Steve wants to tell you later, he will.”
The three of them follow Steve into the dining room. Chairs scrape against the floor as they sit. Hopper looks at Steve, then at the others.
“You sure you want them here for this?”
Robin grabs Steve’s hand, grip iron tight. “You’d have to physically drag me out.”
Steve glances at Dustin and Eddie. “You don’t have to stay.”
Dustin snorts. “Are you kidding? Like we’d leave.”
Eddie nods. “We’re staying.”
Steve turns back to Hopper. His voice feels thin. “What do you need to tell me?”
Hopper lowers himself into a chair like the weight of the badge is pulling him down. He takes off his hat, turns it in his hands, then sets it on the table. His jaw tightens.
“Steve… I wish I didn’t have to tell you this.” He pauses, eyes locking on Steve’s. “A few hours ago, we got a call about two bodies found in the woods just outside of town. We’ve identified them as your parents. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
The words hang heavily.
It hits like a physical blow. Steve’s ears fill with static. Hopper keeps talking, but the words blur, muffled under the roar in his head. His reality fractures.
“…can you think of anyone who might’ve wanted to hurt them?”
Steve stares at him, blank, like the sentence didn’t compute. His mouth opens, but nothing comes out. The room feels too small, too quiet. He hears the hum of the fridge, Robin’s sharp intake of breath, distant laughter from the living room, and his own heartbeat pounding like a drum.
Robin’s grip tightens until it hurts. Dustin grabs his other hand. Eddie’s rings press cold against his shoulder. The contact drags him back.
“No,” Steve croaks. “You’ve got the wrong people. My parents are out of town.”
Hopper’s look is soft and sympathetic, and Steve hates it.
“Son, several people confirmed it was them.”
“That doesn’t make sense.” His voice cracks. “Last time I saw them, they were loading suitcases into the car. They can’t just be gone.”
He still hasn’t moved. His eyes are wide, glassy, fixed on Hopper like he’s waiting for the punchline. His lips tremble. He feels hollow. Like someone scooped him out and left nothing but static.
“Steve,” Robin whispers, voice breaking. Her eyes search his face like it holds instructions on how to keep him from shattering.
“My parents are well respected,” Steve says, words tumbling out, desperate and uneven. “Why would anyone want to kill them? Yeah, my dad can be an asshole, but not to people outside the family. Most people think they’re decent. The only person who even knows what they’re really like is me.”
Steve’s words hang in the air, raw and jagged. Hopper exhales slowly, eyes flicking to his deputy, who’s already scribbling notes on a pad. The sound of the pen scratching feels louder than it should.
Hopper shakes his head, voice low but firm. “Steve, I need you to really think about this. Right now, you’re the last person we know who saw them alive. That unfortunately makes you a suspect.”
The word slams into Steve like a physical hit. Suspect. He can already hear Dustin protesting loudly and asking Hopper if he’s out of his damn mind. Steve’s chest tightens, breath hitching. He feels Eddie’s hand squeezing his shoulder. It’s steady, grounding, but urgent.
“Sorry to be rude... no actually I couldn’t give less of a shit if it’s rude.” Eddie cuts in, his tone sharp. “But are you seriously about to falsely accuse another person of murder? We all know how fucking messy that got the first time around.”
His voice rises, heat in every syllable. “It was fine when it was me. I’m already the town’s freak, so people were already looking for a reason to villainize me. But don’t you dare do this to Steve. He’s been throwing himself in front of monsters for this town since he was seventeen. You know he wouldn’t do something like this.”
The room goes still. Hopper’s jaw works, but he doesn’t snap back. His eyes flick to Eddie, then to Steve, who’s frozen, heart pounding so hard it hurts. Robin squeezes his hand like she’s trying to anchor him to the earth, Dustin glaring at Hopper like he’s ready to fight.
Hopper finally speaks, his voice quieter now. “Nobody’s accusing anyone yet. But I have to ask questions, Eddie. That’s my job.”
Steve swallows hard, throat burning. He wants to speak, to defend himself, but the words feel dangerous now. Every syllable feels like a trap. His pulse roars in his ears, and all he can think is: They think I could have done this. They think I could have killed my parents.
Steve drags in a shaky breath, chest tight. “Fuck it,” he mutters, voice barely above a whisper. Then louder, words tumbling out like they’ve been bottled up too long:
“My parents never cared about me the way I wanted them to. Yeah, they upset me, let me down more times than I can count. But I would never hurt them. Ever. Are you kidding me?” His voice cracks, sharp with disbelief. “All I can tell you is they weren’t perfect, but they’re my parents. And I love them.”
He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, like he can block out the world, block out Hopper’s grim face and the deputy’s pen scratching. “Sorry,” he chokes out, breath hitching. “I can’t… I can’t think straight right now. This can’t be real. How is this real?”
The silence that follows feels suffocating. Steve clings to his friends’ comforting touches like lifelines, because everything else feels like it’s tilting out from under him.
Hopper watches Steve press his hands to his face, the tremor in his voice cutting through the silence. For a moment, the Chief looks like he wants to say something, anything, to make this easier. But there’s no easy way.
He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table, voice low and steady. “Steve… I hear you. And I believe you.” He leans in closer to Steve. “But I need you to understand, when something like this happens, we have to look at everyone close to the victims. It’s procedure. It’s not personal.”
Steve drops his hands, eyes glassy, jaw tight. “Feels pretty damn personal,” he mutters.
Hopper exhales through his nose, slow and heavy. “I get that. I do. And I’m not here to accuse you, I’m here to get answers. Whoever did this is still out there, and the sooner we figure out what happened, the sooner we can make sure they don’t hurt anyone else. Right now, Steve, I just need you to think. Anything unusual? Anyone who might’ve had a grudge against your parents? Even something that seemed small at the time.”
Steve stares at the table, mind blank except for the roar in his ears. The question hangs like a weight he can’t lift.
“I… I don’t know,” he whispers. “I can’t think.”
“Jesus Christ!” Robin snaps, her voice cutting through the suffocating silence. “You’ve literally just told him his parents have been murdered. Can you at least give him more than a moment to process?”
Her glare is lethal, protective like a lioness whose cub has just been threatened. “And I can tell you right now, if you’re looking at Steve, you’re looking at the wrong person. Because the only time we’ve been in different rooms for the past month is when we’ve had to go to the bathroom.”
She leans forward, eyes blazing. “I’d go on record, testify in court or whatever you want because it was. Not. Him.”
Hopper nods slowly, his expression thoughtful. “Alright. We’ll talk again when you’ve had time. For now… just breathe, don’t leave town and wait for us to contact you.”
He stands, sliding his hat back on, and the deputy closes the notebook with a soft snap. The sound feels final, like a door shutting. Hopper gives Steve one last look, something between sympathy and duty, before turning toward the hallway.
Dustin doesn’t hesitate. He’s out of his seat and charging into the hallway, voice cracking with fury.
“HEY! What the hell?” He shouts. “So that’s it? You’re just gonna accuse Steve of one of the worst things imaginable then leave him here with no support and no clue what he’s supposed to do now?!”
His words echo down the hall, loud enough for everyone in the living room to hear. Nancy, Jonathan, Lucas, Max, and the rest of the group gather at the doorway, faces confused. Their eyes flick past Dustin to Steve, slumped at the dining table, tears streaking his face. Robin and Eddie are sitting close to him and talking to him in gentle tones, both looking extremely concerned.
Hopper stops mid-step, shoulders stiffening. He turns slowly, meeting Dustin’s glare head-on. For a second, the Chief looks older, worn down, but his tone stays calm, measured.
“Kid,” Hopper says, voice low but firm, “I get it. I do. But right now, the priority is starting the investigation. We’ll make sure Steve has someone to talk to and a place to stay if he needs it.”
“That’s not good enough,” Dustin fires back, fists clenched so tight his knuckles whiten.
Max’s voice cuts through the tension. “What’s happening?”
Dustin spins toward the group, eyes blazing. “Steve’s parents were found dead today and these assholes just accused him of murdering them because he can’t think of anyone who would have a grudge against them.”
The words hit like a bomb. Gasps ripple through the doorway. Nancy’s face drains of colour, Jonathan’s jaw drops, Lucas stares like he misheard, and Max’s hand flies to her mouth. Behind them, the living room feels like it’s holding its breath.
Robin shoots Hopper a look sharp enough to cut steel. Eddie mutters something under his breath that sounds like a curse. His grip on Steve tightens as Steve crumples further into himself.
Hopper exhales, looking like he wants to say more, but the weight of the room keeps him silent. He nods once and turns for the door. The deputy follows; notebook tucked under his arm. The front door clicks shut, and the sound feels like a release and a warning all at once.
For a moment, no one moves. The house is heavy with silence, broken only by Steve’s uneven breathing.
Dustin spins back toward the group, eyes blazing. “We are not letting them pin this on Steve. The cops in this town couldn’t find their own asses with both hands. If they think they’re gonna use him as a scapegoat like they did Eddie, they’ve got another thing coming.”
Nancy steps forward, jaw set. “Then we figure it out ourselves. We’ve done it before.”
Jonathan nods, quiet but firm. “We start tonight. Whoever did this, they’re not getting away with it.”
Lucas and Max exchange a look, then move closer, forming a wall of solidarity around Steve. Plans start spilling out, but Steve barely hears them. He’s still staring at the table, tears drying on his cheeks, the weight of everything pressing down like a mountain.
Eddie notices. He crouches beside Steve, gentle now, and takes his hand like it’s something fragile. “Hey,” he says softly, voice steady in the chaos. “Come stay with me and Wayne tonight, okay? And as long as you want after. You don’t have to talk or do anything in return. I’d just feel a lot better knowing you aren’t here on your own.”
Steve blinks, throat tight, and nods slowly. His gaze drifts around the room. Robin’s fiercely writing down next steps, Dustin’s throwing out ideas like his life depends on it, Nancy’s shaping his ideas into plans that make sense, the rest of the kids and Jonathan are all listening intently and pitching their own ideas. So many people are fighting his corner.
He doesn’t know if he’ll ever feel okay again. Doesn’t know if normal exists anymore. But for the first time tonight, he sees it clearly and undeniably.
He’s not alone. He’s loved.