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“And you still think we can be friends?” he concludes, breathing out. Will is assuming they’ll still be friends. Not that he hasn’t weighed the cost. Not that he hasn’t stared at the ceiling awake, terrified, calculating how many people he’s likely to lose. Tensing for signs of un-acceptence, homophobia, like a prey-animal twitching at movement in its peripherals.
“Friends, no thanks,” Mike says.
Will’s stomach drops. He’s still smiling, because it’s so sudden. But this is the rug, being ripped out from under him. He’s losing Michael Wheeler.
“Best friends,” Mike smiles. A little, tentative thing.
Will could launch him off the tower. Clutches his chest, bunching his shirt. “You can’t joke like that.”
Eyebrows contract. “What? I wasn’t joking.”
“Mike,” panting. “You made it sound, like you might have said something else.” Eyes flit, and lock on Mike’s. Does he get it? How oblivious is he?
It’s dawning on Will, who’s been forced to think about his sexuality since he was a child. Since he asked Jonathan what some of the words he was being called meant. Bullies knew he was different, and specifically how he was different, like a hunting instinct; before he did. Mike might not be thinking, might not have thought about who he likes, at all. At all.
Nodding slowly, Wheeler murmurs, “You thought, I was going to ask to be more than friends. I just didn’t think it was a good time,” he’s holding the thermos. Will has just drank out of it, put his mouth on it, and Mike’s forefinger is tracing the open rim. “Not with everything going on with Tammy.”
Will’s lips are parted. “With Tammy?”
“Yeah, and, you know, I might not have understood everything you said at the Squawk. Because, is Tammy a girl? Wasn’t the point, uh, you don’t like girls?”
Will’s hand is out, grasping at the air. “I like you. I liked you. Forget Tammy. I regret, so much, that I mentioned Tammy Thompson.” Knees bending, head thrown back, one hand on the rail. “It is haunting me.”
Mike’s pointing at him. “Ok, that’s what I thought. I thought you were saying you liked me.”
“What is happening? Mike, ah. So are we friends, or not?”
“Not.”
Swallows, “Not?”
“Because I’d like to be more than friends.”
Will blinks.
Mike continues, gesturing larger, more confident. “And I don’t have time to understand what the heck is going on with Tammy, but after all this? I’m going to get everyone together, sit them down in a huge circle at the Squawk, and tell them I don’t like girls. I like you.”
Will’s blinking faster. “I wouldn’t, actually, recommend, doing it that way. It’s kind of a lot.”
“Then I’ll just kiss you, deal? But, we, uh, better get going. Got a planet to catch.” And the idiot winks. He winks at Will Byers. Maybe Will should still throw him off the radio tower.