The sun dipped lower, night creeping in while the house pressed close on Eli, slow like a fist curling shut. Not noisy - the Turners ran the TV quiet, the radio even fainter than a clock's soft click - still, each room felt frozen, caught mid-breath, braced for what might come next.
Eli drifted on through the quiet, kind of like how you move slow in a gallery - like someone's watching, ready to shoo you out if you get too close. He roamed room to room with no real aim till he ended up near the window facing the street. Blinds hung halfway down. Outside, the pavement showed faint, porch shapes stood still, cars sat crooked in shadows. People from nearby homes shuffled past with beams cutting dark; a cop vehicle waited at the edge of the block, silent except for the hum underneath. Air carried damp foliage mixed with thin fumes - the usual scent when nothing's right in towns this size.
He wanted to move. Not that he believed it'd fix stuff - he wasn't naive - but his arms, his frame, hated just sitting still. Once they mentioned Will's name, a tightness gripped his ribs and stayed there. Feeling things from within was like living behind a window. The System said: watch, don't leave - slid into his mind like a line kids chant at school. Doing what he was told? Possible. Yet his arms twitched, craving action.
The pain shifted into an idea: if waiting was unavoidable, why not use it? Maybe picking up some tiny skill could stop him from just standing there when trouble hit. No clue what exactly - just a hunch. Still, after countless films and series, one thing stuck - when folks felt trapped, they fought anyway. Hopper's worn-out, rough, but real face stayed with him. The sheriff didn't toss around empty words; if he said he'd stop by, then that's exactly what he'd do. This got Eli wondering - perhaps Hopper had lessons to share without forcing him to shift who he really was.
When the knock sounded - three steady raps, just like before - Eli sensed it deep down, kind of how you notice distant thunder rolling in. A hint of warning. He pulled the door open slightly. There stood Hopper, coat collar flipped up, facing mist that wasn't quite rain yet. His scent mixed stale coffee with worn fabric - nothing flashy, more like comfort built on usefulness instead of feelings.
"You up?" Hopper said, like he didn't ask that exact thing twelve times before.
"Yeah," Eli said.
"Fine." Hopper slipped in, closing the door soft - same way as before - like the whole place could crack. Not taking a seat. Never did when something weighed on him. Leaned by the frame, heel bouncing slow, ticking off seconds like it matched what ran through his head.
"You keeping to the house?" Hopper asked.
"Yeah," Eli said. Fact was, he hadn't moved - mostly 'cause the System told him to stay, the house felt still, and Marcy left a message stuck to the fridge.
Hopper's face jerked slightly, almost like he was letting go. "Fine. Stay inside. Not right now."
Eli gulped. "I get it."
Hopper took a breath, then exhaled it gradually. Rubbing his palms back and forth, he waited a moment before speaking up - "Feel like seeing something interesting?"
Eli blinked. "What kind of stuff?"
How to position yourself. So you won't end up flat on the ground when things go sideways. Just the essentials. No flashy moves. You're not training for a ring fight. Still - this helps, young one. Cops showed me these tricks ages back. "Simple," Hopper said, his tone dull but steady - same as when barking commands on the job. That flatness turned it into something easy to take, no fuss needed.
It seemed tiny, like it'd trap him indoors without harm - not some twist. Just fit somehow.
Eli gave a quick nod, then said "Alright" without really thinking
They headed to the living room. After Hopper said to kick off his shoes for grip, Eli slipped them off instead. His feet felt the chilly carpet underfoot. Shifting things around, Hopper opened up a gap between the sofa and table - like setting up some unseen arena.
"First rule," Hopper said, dropping into a stance that was more about balance than swagger. "Hands up, a little chin tuck. Don't look like you're asking for trouble, but don't look like you can't handle it either."
Eli mimicked the motion like a kid imitating a grown-up - clumsy, careful, trying hard. His limbs didn't quite fit where they were supposed to, elbows up too much, hands spread wide. Hopper saw it, then shifted his stance - a light push here, a small twist there. That quiet kind of guidance that shows instead of lectures.
"Footwork beats strength," Hopper told him. He demonstrated a move - step forward with the left foot, drive from the rear one, balance steady, small adjustments that shook Eli's stance when he copied them. Stay loose. Never plant your feet. When stuck, retreat. Where possible, slide sideways. It isn't tossing folks into walls. Instead, it's stepping aside while opening up room
Eli gave it a go, taking his time. His sleeves slipped loose; the walls wobbled slightly before holding still. Each move followed a beat, something his muscles started catching on to - not through focus, yet through motion. That quiet hum of the System - the faint undercurrent - stayed calm, no alert popping up, nor any numbers lighting up. It gently pulled his attention lower, like how a steady beat eases rapid breathing. He grew more relaxed - not from courage kicking in, yet having something to keep his hands busy.
"Alright," Hopper grunted as Eli limped forward without stumbling. "Seems you catch on quick."
Eli clenched his teeth. Not because he wanted to admit it felt good - just that he didn't trust how it landed. Still, it was approval. Tiny. Threw at him like a quick fix.
Hopper stepped nearer, then threw in a block - no drama, just using his shoulder and arm to soak up a shove. As he rolled through the motion, he let Eli see how shifting with the push beats standing stiff against it. Not about winning fights; this was bare-bones stuff meant to keep you upright. Stuff like stance, staying centered, syncing breath.
"There's a thing," Hopper said, "about how folks move when they're scared. They lean in, they overcommit. You don't do that. You stay light. You read the angle."
Eli stared at his hands shifting beneath Hopper's direction. A moment back they'd been awkward - now one smooth twist blocked a strike, earning a quiet nod from the sheriff. Confusion sat heavy in his chest, yet something warm flickered underneath it.
They trained together for some time. When he made mistakes, Hopper fixed them - soft but clear. "Keep your wrist lower." "Push those hips ahead." "Don't stretch so far." His tips came quick, straight to the point, no fluff. No wild claims. Just handed out small things that actually worked.
Once he'd done it three times, Hopper quit moving, plopped down on the couch's end - unusual for him. "Hey," he started. "I ain't your old man. Can't bring you home or fix every mess here. Still, I see you, get it? When stuff falls apart, ring me.". You stay away from the trees. But when you do go, you plan your steps
Eli gulped. Yet he didn't speak up, even though a part of him itched to say he'd never label someone like that - after all, faith only ever left bruises. Still, his eyes dropped to Hopper's fingers, noticing the weariness, the grit, something soft beneath. So he gave a small yes with his head.
"Good," Hopper said again. "That's enough for tonight."
They kept the lesson short, handy, kind of like something you'd slip into a coat. Hopper made sure the door was locked - checked it two times - then gave Eli's shoulder a quick tap before walking off into the wet haze. As the red lights faded down the road, Eli shut the door behind him.
He stayed still in the hush, surrounded by a soft sense of touch - no safety, no courage, yet able somehow, which helped make lounging on the sofa feel less like watching life pass by. His muscles knew the motions. Thoughts ran through his head: guard high, neck down, stay quick, keep breathing. Not flashy. No heroic saves. That didn't matter. Just doing it was okay.
After a while, by the window, he saw the town getting ready - radios crackling, beams cutting through shadow, cops drifting like netmen hauling silence from black water. Then came the System's nudge, faint and shy, sort of how a helper might cough to get noticed.
SYSTEM NOTE:Micro-observation task learned: Basic stance & footwork. Passive improvement applied: +1 Reflex Awareness
It wasn't much of a prize. Still, it felt right. Like something Hopper once mentioned - a small gap where reality met the System's code. He pushed his hands into the hoodie pockets and noticed they weren't shaking anymore.
He stayed away from the woods. Not tempting luck, not playing hero. Yet doing nothing inside those walls? No more of that. If life pushed him into silence, he'd stay quiet - but helpful. Other kids ran around hunting answers; fine. At minimum, he wouldn't mess things up worse.
Out there, gusts rose, making oak leaves murmur like secrets. Town life pushed forward, shaky at dawn. On the sofa, Eli curled his legs close, running moves in silence - slow, steady, just for himself. It wasn't much, yet somewhere past fear, tension in his ribs eased a little.
Tomorrow meant more chaos. Right now, the moment was his. He took a breath. He shifted slightly. Then stood still, holding whatever he'd grabbed.