Okay, Mike knows he can be an asshole sometimes, and he knows that he can especially be an asshole to Will. He was one when he told Will off for not being interested in girls, and he was one when he blamed Will for not keeping in touch when Will moved away, and he was even one behind Will's back when Will first kissed him and Mike didn't know how to cope with the things he started feeling. To Mike's credit, he never was tempted to cheat on El—but a part of him wondered in the back of his mind, what if? And then he wound up single, and Will wound up back in his life, and for a few shining weeks, Mike thought that he had a chance to make up for all those times he was an asshole—to get right with God or maybe, at least, with Will.

He's trying. He's trying harder than you know to be empathetic and understanding and patient and not to expect more out of Will than Will can handle. But dammit, Mike isn't perfect, and he's not strong enough to be there for Will all the time without ever having any room to make mistakes.

He wouldn't even call what he said to Will in that car a mistake. All he did was be honest with Will that he had doubts—that things weren't perfect. It's not like Will could have believed that things were perfect, anyway, not with the extreme measures he and Mike have had to go to to try and make sure that Will could handle being back in Mike's life.

It seems obvious now that Will can't handle it—that Mike was right to be worried. It's not fair. Mike just got Will back, and it's not fair.

He knows Dustin and Lucas are going to find out from Will anyway the next time they talk to him, so Mike bites the bullet and tells them both the next day what exactly happened between Mike and Will in that Jeep on Saturday morning. "And now he won't talk to me at all," Mike finishes with a sigh, looking fixedly into his lap and not at Lucas or Dustin. "I tried calling last night, and he wouldn't come to the phone, and then El called a few minutes later just to tell me off for how I should have been more careful before—"

"Wait, Eleven called you to talk about Will?" interjects Lucas. "Wasn't that awkward?"

"Yeah, but it…"

Mike isn't sure exactly how to explain what's going on between him and El these days. They talked for a long time in Mike's Jeep last June, and he was able to apologize for not trying harder to work out his issues with her before breaking up with her. She didn't give him her blessing, exactly, to start seeing Will—at that point, Will had made it clear that he needed to stay away from Mike as soon as he got back to Sullivan—but Mike clumsily admitted to his feelings for Will, and El told him she was willing to accept whatever made Will the happiest.

Of course, when she said that, the thing that was going to make Will the happiest was getting as far away from Mike as possible. Mike thought that had changed in the last couple of months, but maybe it hasn't.

"It's not like that," Mike says finally. "Whatever happened between me and El, we both just want what's best for Will. Anyway, it's not like we hate each other."

"It's weird to think about her looking out for Will," remarks Dustin. "The two of them were never…"

"You didn't see them in Nevada. They're brother and sister now. What he did for her when Vecna had her…"

…It was as much as anything Mike ever did for Will when the Mind Flayer had him, but he doesn't say this out loud. Lately, Mike doesn't like thinking about that terrible week. Helping Will with the Mind Flayer used to be a point of pride for Mike, but now, it just reminds him that everything he tries to do for Will goes to shit in the end.

It's too much pressure. Everybody who knows anything about Mike and Will expects Mike to be perfect, including Will, and Mike—he can't do it. He can't keep feeling endlessly guilty for hurting Will every time he turns around. It's not fair.

"Did Eleven say how bad off Will was when you talked to her last night?" asks Dustin.

"She didn't say much," says Mike, "but it didn't sound good. It sounded like he's been blaming himself, and it's not a good sign that he wouldn't come to the phone. El sounded pissed. Jonathan is probably super pissed."

"Shit."

"I'll call him tonight and check in," says Lucas.

"We're supposed to talk tomorrow. I'll see how he's doing," adds Dustin. "But don't worry about El or Jonathan, okay? It doesn't matter what they think. It only matters how you two feel and how you treat each other."

That's the whole problem, though: everything Mike tries to do just seems to hurt Will even worse. It makes him feel indignant. Worse, it makes him feel powerless.

The thing he doesn't understand is how he and Will can ever have a healthy, functional relationship if Will has to constantly set boundaries and falls apart every time they have a disagreement. How are they ever supposed to move in together or get married? Maybe that last point is moot—it's not legal, at least not yet—but Mike still doesn't see how they can ever have a future together if Will can't ever go on a date with Mike without spending the next month ignoring him.

It wasn't perfect with El, but at least Mike didn't feel like he was walking on eggshells. At least being with her didn't make him feel like a monster.

That's the thing: he loves who Will is, but he doesn't like the way being around Will makes him feel about himself. El was right: Mike never should have gone there with Will. What happens now that any move Mike makes is just going to get Will hurt?

He tries calling that night, but it's Jonathan who answers the phone. Mike hangs up without saying a word, not wanting or needing to hear Jonathan bitch him out over all the mistakes Mike has ever made where Will is concerned.

At school the next morning, Lucas says Will wouldn't come to the phone when Lucas tried him. On Tuesday, Dustin reports back the same, though he was at least able to get a status update from Jonathan. "It's not the worst Will has ever been, but it's not great," Dustin tells them as they're sitting in physics waiting for the bell to ring. "He's functioning, but he seems like he's just going through the motions., apparently. He's not saying much, and he didn't get much done during the school day yesterday. I had to tell Jonathan myself what happened—sorry, Mike."

Mike shrugs. "It's fine. He's his brother. He's supposed to be on Will's side, not mine."

But who in Mike's life is on his side? He can't tell his family—can't even imagine telling any of them that he's questioning his sexuality, let alone about messing around with Will, Will's mental health problems, or how those problems are related to Mike. Lucas and Dustin are in the middle because they're Will's friends, too. El hasn't been in Mike's life in a long time, and she's planted herself firmly as one of Will's supporters in the interim. Who else is Mike supposed to tell?

And then it occurs to him.

It's been months since Mike has really talked to Steve or Robin, but he still remembers their work schedule, assuming it hasn't changed, and they work the late shift on Tuesdays—from four P.M. to midnight. School lets out at two-fifteen, so Mike stays late and knocks out half of an essay for English composition in the library until it's time to get in his car and drive to Family Video.

Inside, it looks like he's missed the after-school rush: Mike is the only customer. Robin's at the cash register and spots him first. "Hey, stranger. Don't tell me: the world is ending again."

"No," says Mike, "but I kind of wish it were. At least that much I know how to handle."

He's attracted the attention of Steve, who emerges from between a couple of shelves pushing a card full of VHS tapes. "That doesn't sound good," he says. "You wanna talk about it?"

So for the next fifteen minutes, Mike spills the whole story: his on-off dynamic with Will, Will's mental health, Mike liking boys. Steve nods and "uh-huhs" periodically as he pulls movies off of his cart and onto the shelves, but Robin, weirdly, just looks increasingly nervous. When Mike finishes, neither Steve nor Robin says a word. Instead, they just keep looking at each other and making faces that Mike doesn't understand.

"Say something," he says finally. "You're making me self-conscious here."

Steve doesn't take his eyes off of Robin. "Just tell him already," he says in an exasperated voice.

"Steve—"

"Oh, come on, Robin. If anybody will understand, it's him."

Mike rolls his eyes. "Okay, enough with the cryptic bullshit—"

The bell over the door tinkles as a couple in their twenties walk in with a little girl holding both their hands. Steve looks at them, then at Mike, then back at Robin. "I'll deal with them. Tell him, dipshit."

"Tell me what?" says Mike, quieter than before, as Steve rushes toward the door and puts on his customer service voice.

Robin closes her eyes and presses her lips together. When she looks at Mike again, there's resolve in her eyes. "Come on back here with me."

She leads him into the backroom. Mike barely has time to take in the haphazardly stacked tapes in the small and cluttered room before she says in an emphatic undertone, "I get it because I'm gay, too, okay? I'm a lesbian."

Whatever Mike was expecting, it wasn't this. He gapes at her. "You're a lesbian?"

"Keep your voice down," she admonishes, even though Mike's pretty sure nobody on the other side of the door can hear them. "I'm not ready for the world to know yet. The only people who know are Steve and Vickie."

"Wait a second. Is Vickie your—?"

"It's not important. Listen to me—Mike—I know it's hard and scary and confusing to figure all of this out. I get it, okay? I've been there. I was in denial for years before I finally admitted it to myself, let alone to another person. I don't know how much help I can be with Will—I don't know anyone with his mental health issues, and I've never been through a breakup—"

"We didn't break up," says Mike indignantly. "We were never even boyfriends, really."

"My point is," Robin barges ahead, "if you're confused, or you don't understand what you're feeling, or you'r freaking out because you don't want anybody to figure it out, you can talk to me, okay? You can talk to me. I won't judge you for any of it, I swear, and I'm a good listener when I actually shut up and try to listen to people. I know I ramble a lot, but—"

She breaks off abruptly when Mike impulsively throws his arms around her shoulders and pulls her into a tight hug. After a second's hesitation, she winds her arms around Mike's waist and sticks her face in his neck. "You're so tall," she says in a muffled and amused voice. "You've really grown up, Wheeler."

"Does growing up always mean feeling like you're a monster every time you breathe? Because I'm pretty sure I never felt that way until…"

Robin pulls back and gives Mike a sad smile. "I think it's normal to feel like you've lost something when your innocence goes, and I also think it's normal for anybody who's been through the shit we've seen to feel disillusioned with the world or even with themselves. But I don't think everybody who grows up feels like a monster, and I don't think you are a monster, Mike. Will's issues aren't your fault. Do you hear me? You made mistakes, but so does everyone, and Will's issues are not your fault."

"But I make him worse. No matter what I do, even when I try to leave him alone, I make him worse. It feels like only a monster could do that."

"If he hadn't met you, do you really think Will would be fine right now? Don't you think he would have just found somebody else to project his stuff onto? And I'm not saying that like it's his fault. It's not his fault, either. But his brain—his brain would have found somebody, Mike, even if it weren't you. This isn't about you, not really."

"But I did so many things wrong," mutters Mike. "I jumped in and did what I wanted even though I knew there would be consequences. For a long time there, I abandoned him. I—"

"Look, Mike, even if you hadn't done those things, you would have done something else. Nobody in this world is able to never mess anything up. Just like Will was going to find someone to attach to, you were going to make mistakes with him, and it's all—it's all inevitable, okay? It's nothing you could have figured out before it happened, and now that it has, all you can do is find the way through. That's all anybody can do."

He figures that, while he's pouring his heart out here, he may as well ask—"And it's not because we're both boys? We weren't doomed just because we…?"

"No," says Robin firmly. "It took me a long time to figure it out, but if I know one thing now, it's that there is nothing inherently wrong with boys liking boys or girls liking girls. I don't know a lot of gay people, but look at all the straight couples that get things wrong all the time. They're no better than us."

In the end, talking to Robin doesn't fix anything, doesn't give Mike any solutions to his Will problems, but it makes him feel a little lighter inside, like he's got somebody who can relate to even one small part of what Mike is going through. He sleeps easier that night than he has in days.