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Every year in the Hopper-Stagg household was a fucking nightmare, yet so worthwhile for Colleen Hopper. She, unfortunately, among many other times with bad decisions, had given birth to 5 boys by the same man. That marriage - a total nightmare - ended in flames.
Nick was born in 1951 in the back of a Denny's booth at 7 pm. By 1953, his brother Chris was born, and thankfully, inside an actual hospital at that time. As 1955 rolled around, Colleen had twins, Kenny and Kenneth. Then, in 1962, at 4:55 am, Vance Hopper would be born to signify the end of Colleen's marriage to Jason Hopper.
Jason himself was later caught on tax fraud and conspiracy to commit murder. And by 1963, Colleen's divorce was granted. Vance never saw his father again - but the ghosts lingered in the background of his brother's behaviors to him and Vance's own mind.
So imagine - no, truly, imagine - the shitshow of 1964 when Colleen announced she was marrying another man who had a son.
Nick was 13, Chris was 11, the twins were 9, and Vance himself was 2.
"We're getting married, boys!" Colleen announced a week before New Year's, standing with Melvin Stagg. Nick glared instantaneously, "Him?"
Melvin Stagg was far from a “bad” man per say but in a lack of better terms — Chris had began comparing him to a, “Wet rag left in milk” in terms of a personality.
Lacking in something the boys couldn’t necessarily place. Whatever it was however, they’d quickly realize, clearly was passed onto his son Griffin.
Colleen sighed, "Nicholas, don't start today-"
Chris snickered, whispering to Nick, "Mom's pregnant." Kenny and Kenneth busted into a fit of giggles on the couch - Colleen whistling in response. "KNOCK IT OFF! Seriously, what the hell is your fuckin' problem you two?!”
Nick stood up, eyes gleaming at Melvin, who merely nodded to the oldest boy. "Mom, I just.." He hesitated, then pulled his mom into the hallway. Colleen rubbed her son's hair, "Pumpkin, what's the issue? Has Melvin hurt you boys, behind my back?-"
He shook his head, "No- No. I just... I don't want this to be a repeat of Dad."
Colleen sighed shakily, tucking her eldest under her chin, wrapping him in her arms. "It won't be. If I'm wrong, and that's a big if, kiddo, I'll whoop his fuckin' ass."
Nick laughed wetly. "Okay.. Love you."
"Love you too, butthead. Now go get Vance from his crib. Let’s make him design a shitty gingerbread house.”
Now, in 1974, things had grown exponentially. In terms of size, however, there is little growth in that department.
Nick stood taller - 6'1" with shaggy blonde hair, greasy hands from oil changes, a primary caretaker of the house, 23 now.
Chris - unfortunately, the shortest of the oldest four, so four - stood 5'7" and is now aged 21.
Kenneth and Kenny - 5'10" with equal amounts of twin freakiness - now aged 19.
Vance, the youngest of the Hopper bunch, now aged 12, standing 5'5" with already bruised knuckles from fighting. You could argue that this Christmas - that was all "valid" siblings accounted for - (if forgetting the additional one, Griffin Stagg, now aged 9).
The holidays were already messy enough before a stepsibling. Now, especially after Griffin "Unhinged" Stagg joined the ranks, for most of them? They were about ready to punt Griffin into a wall for a holiday football game.
Yet again, he had swiped Chris's wallet and snuck to the corner store to buy a bag of limited edition Hot Wheels from the back wall.
Chris stormed around the house - slamming every door in his wake and flipping out drawers. Vance shot up, "What the FUCK- CHRIS!"
"MOVE! GRIFFIN SHITHOLE TOOK MY WALLET AND HID IT!" He slammed the closet door open, ignoring the blatant posters of Led Zeppelin in Vance's closet. "I swear to god I'm gonna wring his neck-"
Colleen yelled from downstairs, "BOYS! WHO TOOK MY KEYS!"
Nick hollered from another room in sync with Kenny and Kenneth, "GRIFFIN DID!"
Griffin - meanwhile, blocks away - cheerfully slapped a five-dollar bill on the counter. "Thanks for your service!" He chirped, snatching the container off and sitting on the curb. Despite him being unhinged, he had actually managed to gather his gifts for his brothers with the remaining forty bucks.
He held the plastic bag in his little hands and began his walk home before a convertible flew by - a breeze gushing him off balance - before it reversed frantically.
Shit. Griffin played his best poker face as Chris stormed out of the car. Vance followed quickly - "Chris, Chris, Jesus fuck man!-" as Chris grabbed the hem of Griffin's shirt and shook him. "Listen, you little asshole-"
"Me? Never..." Griffin scoffed, "I'm a treasure to be around!"
"Bullshit." Chris hissed, "Where's my money cunt? That's all I have left for 3 weeks!"
Griffin - being what he is - could hypothetically tell his stepbrother. Yet where would the fun in that be? "Uh... I gave it away?"
"WHAT!"
"TO A HOMELESS GUY!"
Chris's vein popped out of his forehead so fast - Vance choked down a laugh in the back of Griffin's roughhousing. Griffin grinned weakly, "I'm helping! I promise!"
"Get your ass in the car."
"Say please!" Griffin added, not moving from his spot, leaning against the fence of a house. Vance bit his cheek, covering his mouth as Chris grumbled, "Please."
"Use a full sentence?" Griffin muttered.
"GET IN THE CAR!" Chris snapped. Vance and Griffin flinched, both scrambled into the backseat of Chris’s car as he slammed on the gas. The drive back to the maroon-red two-story felt like gliding along water for the two boys. Chris stomped up the steps, throwing open the front door to already holler for his mom.
“Mom! Are you fucking serious? I didn’t even steal his wallet-“ Vance screamed over Chris. Chris snarling back in his face something unintelligible.
”Vance Eloise Hopper, you help your brother decorate that tree as punishment!” Colleen snapped, handing both boys two tubs of decor. Full of glittering feather boas, ornaments, trinkets from school craft projects, and more.
Griffin sighed, dropping both of his tubs by the barren Christmas tree. With a slam of the front door, he and Vance were left to their own devices in the house. Chris, Nick, Kenny, Ken, and Melvin followed suit - Melvin subtly nodding to the two youngest that he'd bring home some food from the deli.
Vance scoffed once the car pulled out of the gravel driveway, “Jesus. Did you really have to take Chris’s shit?”
Griffin’s simple shrug answered enough for now. He blinked, watching the bag of gifts he secretly bought sit tucked away in the air vent of the hallway. Sure, hypothetically, he could tell everyone he wasn't being a dickhead for once - truly caring to get the household gifts. Griffin was a simple boy, however, and the idea of making his brothers squirm a bit was more entertaining.
As both boys worked on covering the tree, Griffin's mind wandered way back to being three years old. His dad's silence on Christmas Eve filled every nook and cranny of their old shack house.
Melvin wasn't mean, no, far from it in fact. Griffin, however, always felt a little lackluster in the department of genuineness. It made his skin crawl every time someone suggested he spill his emotions out like vomit. So it made more sense for him to be a bit unhinged, in fact, maybe even a little annoying.
Griffin cocked his eyebrow over to the gifts again, before subtly sliding across the hardwood floor and retrieving a small guitar pic bag and hiding it behind his back. Vance grumbled, throwing various decorations on in frustration as Griffin tugged on his sleeve.
Vance flicked his hand off of him, "What dipshit?"
"Gotcha somethin'." Griffin smiled fondly - earnestly, and handed over the bag. Vance hesitated for a moment, then opened the sack, his shoulders slightly melting in appreciation.
"Merry Christmas, Vance."
"Merry Christmas, Griff."