“It’s not like I don’t drink at college too, you know, I mean, just because I don’t go to frat parties, if you’re worried I’m going to judge you or something—” “That’s not what—” Will huffed out a laugh, staring up at the ceiling. He turned around. “I go to gay bars, okay? It’s—just, not your scene. Obviously.” Will’s face twisted on that last word, half a grimace. For some reason, it was a punch to the gut. Something defiant rose up within Mike. “Well, do you have to be a card-carrying member to get in, or something?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “I mean, a bar’s a bar, right?” Will’s face broke into an uncertain smile. “Mike…” “I came here for the Will Byers New York experience,” Mike said, earnestly. “Am I going to get it, or what?”