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Summary
Jonathan takes a step back, like he hadn’t expected the door to actually open. Hopper glances up for a car or a parent, but doesn’t find either.
“Is someone hurt?” Hopper asks, words still slurring a little with bourbon and sleep.
The boy shakes his head slowly, looking a little unsure of it himself. God, he looks like shit, actually. His eyes are red and bloodshot. He’s panting. Hopper’s eyebrows crease.
“We need to talk,” Jonathan says unsteadily.