Mike is silent for a stunned moment, but then, as if coming to a sudden understanding, he’s floundering, mouth opening and closing, clearly struggling to process the jab. Then, he stammers, “I was drunk, Will — and confused. Really confused.”
Will doesn’t miss a beat. “Mike, you know you act like this sober, too. Don’t lie to me.”
At the honesty, Mike short-circuits. It was one thing for Mike to quietly justify his feelings, and the way he acted because of them, but to hear them surface through his own ears? To watch Mike personify the mess with that hardening stare? Yeah, Will would hope he wouldn’t be able to face it. Because then Will was right.
Mike is going down with the sinking ship. He’s never known how to act around Will, their whole lives, he’s made this clear. They were like frenzied magnets orbiting each other with heated reciprocity, and Mike more often than not, was too far gone to ever move back. And Will was left standing all alone, wondering if the next morning, Mike would come out and realize that he had crossed the line again. But every time, Will seemed to be asking for too much.
Mike would never figure his shit out, would he?