What’s even more f’d up for that gay bar scene is that other characters imagined futures had something to do with their personalities, but all Will’s had to do with his sexuality.
Yes, he should embrace that part of himself that he used to be ashamed of, but holy shit. Nothing to do with his art? His paintings?
That’s even worse. That’s what makes me angry. They genuinely watered him down to the “gay one” of the group there.
as "messy" as that coming out scene was, i still stand by the fact that it was important for the other characters as well as will.
the choice on whom the camera zooms in on during each line reflects what that person is scared of facing themselves. but will was the first to admit his biggest, most personal secret to everyone, which was essential for the other characters' self reflection too. *especially* a certain repressed white boy with internalised homophobia and a fuckass beanie.
so, mike the so-called-brave, you better lock in like you have never locked in before
Never Tear Us Apart by INXS is really foreshadowing Byler?
I have never posted on here before but HELLO I had an epiphany while watching a tiktok talking about why Byler is still endgame AND!! the person taking used the phrase "the worlds are colliding". I immediately thought of that one interview Finn gave where he said if he had to choose a song that describes Mike he'd say it's 'Never Tear Us Apart' by INXS. Well.
We already had people analyze this and not being sure about what the "two worlds" could be, now we know that those worlds are the Abyss and our world. I also want to add, that the "I told you that we could fly" part could make people think about Mileven BUUUUT!!! For me I think about Robin's speech which a LOT of people have already said is easily connected to Mike's arc (even though it was directed towards and helped Will). Clinging to El, hoping it would make him less scared of that part of himself, like he could be normal. But when he realizes it's not about El, it's about himself, he will feel so free.. It'll feel like he can fly.
have seen no one talk about the most obvious imagery of the entirety of volume 2:
will's head positioned perfectly inside the circle illustrating the bridge's exotic matter. as dustin explains:
the exotic matter is what holds the bridge (the upside down) together.
so how could will be connected to this?
we all know will was the first to be taken into the upside down. i dare say will was the first human to go in there at all. vecna said that when he took will, he realized the potential for what he could do using the minds of more children. will's mind is somehow directly linked to whatever is holding the bridge/UD together.
space . com explains exotic matter as referring to theoretical or rare forms of matter that don’t follow everyday physical rules. one type of exotic matter that could be related to wormholes is matter with negative mass. all matter we know has a positive mass and is attracted to other matter due to gravity, but matter with a negative mass would push other matter away from it.
the writers are giving us the most on the nose metaphor - exotic matter literally explains will. since season 3, they have pushed the narrative that will feels like an outsider, like he is an outlier even amongst his friends. this is reflected in how his character has been "neglected" and seemingly pushed to the side. and now it is confirmed; despite having most things in common, he is different from them in one way, and this one difference has defined the past years of his life.
slight paraphrasing here, but in the coming out scene will says vecna showed him it is going to lead to negativity that makes him push people away and drift apart from them:
this fear and this feeling is somehow intrinsically linked to the entire structure holding the bridge together. because this is the show that uses sci fi metaphors to explain the horrors of growing up, i think we can assume this connection goes farther than just this direct mirroring, but sadly i am not smart enough to think of a way this can play out in the scifi plot. but i have no doubt that it will.
but, we have now seen that (literally) all of will's friends and family accept and love him despite this difference. they're pulling him back in, proving his fears wrong.
but the one thing they leave open, unanswered, ambiguous.... is mike's part in all this. because despite will saying he "had a crush" on mike, and likening mike to "his tammy" - we already know from the previous episodes in season five that this is not the case. will is in love with mike; he is hopeful that they could be something more to the point of asking robin how you know if someone wants to date, and righttttt after his 'coming of powers' moment, he asks robin just how soon after her epiphany did she get together w vickie😭
will is not over mike! mike is not will's tammy, guys, obviously he is not. and that is the missing piece; mike revealing that will's feelings are reciprocated is essential, because it is the final step to will not feeling like an outlier amongst his loved ones. because if mike is like him and also loves him, it gives will someone he does not feel different from.
and as will said in season 4: mike makes him feel like he's not a mistake. like he is better for being different.
mike reciprocating will's feelings has always been the full circle moment we are coming back to. will and mike's arcs have been directly intertwined since always but was solidified in the "crazy together" scene, and just about everything in their arc since has drawn lines back to that moment.
so, somehow will's link to the UD is what holds it together, and mike's love for will is going to be the very solution to casting out the last "negative matter" (doubt, fear, feeling like an outsider) from will's mind, which is necessary for them to be able to take the UD apart.
This is a continuation in exploring why I think Mike's character regression over the seasons can be explained in part by guilt, which he has yet to confront
Original post
Now we're onto s2, which jumps us ahead in the timeline a bit.
Mike has been calling out to El on the walkie for approx. 252 days now, under what he views as the false hope she might actually be alive. This is mostly based on the fact that Mike thought he saw El outside of his house a few hours after she 'died' (he did see her, bc she was there...) and so a part of him does think there's a chance. And yet this is also isn't something Mike seems to be comfortable talking about the others with.
Which brings us to the crazy together scene. Although this scene has a lot going on, there's one aspect of it in particular that I want to focus on, as it's the driving force for what is going to be discussed, which is that Halloween night was also the last night Mike called El, aka day 353.
I just want to preface what follows, with the fact that I do not personally think Mike giving up calling El, as a concept on its own, means that he couldn't possibly love El romantically or something. It's not even about that idea from an audience perspective. And this is because any average person, in reality, mourning someones' death, should not be calling out to that person for almost a year. Letting go doesn't make you a bad person, whether it was romantic, platonic or even familial. It's called healing and accepting what is and trying to move on and live your life.
Neither does Mike giving up after that night make him heartless or a bad character in my opinion. It literally just makes him human. But that also doesn't mean that's how Mike feels about it, nor does it mean that the manifestation of this guilt isn't going to affect his behavior over the course of the series, causing some very unfortunate choices on Mike's part to then lead to some very unfortunate events for everyone...
Where it starts to get sort of complex is that I think the whole point of the crazy together scene and where it ended up was to for it to showcase how Mike and Will were both willing to accept each other, despite these secrets they've been keeping to themselves.
Will revealed the truth to Mike about how he could still see into the UD, with the addition of seeing this big 'shadow in the sky', followed by asking Mike to not tell the others because they wouldn't understand. Mike then responds by saying El would understand, followed by confiding his own secret to Will that he's been keeping from the others, which is that he thinks he's seen signs that El could still be alive.
The scene then ends with them in agreement that if they're both going crazy, they'll go crazy together, with it arguably being their most incriminatingly romantic moment to date, as it juxtaposes other uncannily similar romantic mentions on the show involving that same word.
But no matter what happens, they're promising to support each other, specifically the weird shit they have going on and could presumably continue to explore that weirdness, without telling anyone else who might judge them for it or misunderstand their feelings entirely...
This is why Mike had no problem with Will going crazy in s2 because as promised, he was going to be right there with him. Also meaning, Mike COULD have had no problem continuing to test out his theory that El was alive, because Will would have supported him.
Obviously, Will sort of had his hands tied in s2 (literally?), but the point still stands. It's not like this was something Mike HAD to give up, because that conversation between him and Will instilled that they would support each other and what makes them feel crazy.
I think the issue though, is that what's causing Mike so much grief daily for almost a year now, is the guilt that came with El's death and him feeling responsible. And so, in contrast to Will's slightly more justified assumptions that what he's seeing could actually be real based on what's happened to him, it's like Mike is asking himself whether he's actually seeing El because she's still alive OR is he just imagining she's still alive because he wants to forgive himself?
A kid deducing that in their head would make them feel pretty awful, don't you think? Maybe even lead them to calling out to that person for almost a year in hopes that they might still be alive?
Meaning Mike choosing that night to walk away, to give up, is likely a result of his conversation with Will making him feel more comfortable with finally letting go of some of that guilt in order to actually start the process of moving on. Because a big part of why he didn't want to move on was because of guilt in the first place.
Also confiding in Will and only Will, not the others, who were hell bent on interpreting all of Mike's feelings for El as romantic, was maybe Mike's way of avoiding the pressure to associate his whole relationship with El as strictly romantic. With Will, maybe Mike knew he wasn't going to spin it into something like that. And he would’ve been right, because Will didn't.
October 30th, Halloween Night (Day 353 - Last call)
You cannot tell me that day 353 isn't framed as the last call. Like Mike is literally walking away dramatically, leaving El alone, with her now just a tiny dot surrounded by darkness. The way it's framed leaves the viewer genuinely feeling heartbroken because there's some very evident finality to what is being presented. And we even see that El feels it too, hence the episode cutting off dramatically with her tear filled eyes.
And so why did Mike choose THIS moment to give up? Why did he choose now to put his 353 day streak to rest? Like, that was impressive as hell. He could have easily kept that going, but instead he decided that this was going to be the last time he was going to try calling out to her...
November 1st (Day 354)
El is still pretty bummed that Hopper came home late last night, but I'm guessing she's even more bummed still processing what might have very well been Mike finally giving up that night too.
Although I don't think El would blame Mike for giving up, still, she too throughout all of this had been building up hope herself. El's been clinging onto the bond she made with Mike, specifically the romantic moments, to the point where she has been watching shows with romantic themes, putting herself in the position of the love interest.
So him not giving up, to El, has been a signal that what they are feeling between each other is very deep and... romantic. Him keeping this going this long is a sign to her that these feelings are pretty much guaranteed. And if he doesn't continue, that hope would obviously dwindle.
At breakfast that morning, Hopper acknowledges the TV cord peaking out of El's room, which is the device she uses to visit Mike from the void, all the way from the cabin. Without it, she is not able to 'communicate' with him, let alone see if he actually didn't give up after that night she feared he did...
Unfortunately her and Hopper have an argument after this, leading to her storming off to her room. And after Hopper is gone, El finds herself being so impatient to see Mike after almost a year of waiting, that she decides to take fate into her own hands. She isn't willing to wait until the evening, which is roughly speaking the usual time Mike uses the walkie to call her every night. She needs to see him now.
And lucky(?) for her, she does!
Finally! A SIGN! After almost a year of no signs that El is alive, since the night she went missing, Mike is getting a sign El is alive!
And he runs after it! He goes to check to confirm his (valid) suspicions, only for her to not be there, with Mike looking disappointed, but also kind of like he's accepted it's a lost cause at this point.
Mike's hope that El is alive and okay and the relief that would come with finally letting go of this massive weight of guilt, is not within reach. He just needs to accept it and let it go. He needs to forgive himself and move on.
On top of all of this, Will is experiencing his own version of crazy. And Mike seems more concerned with focusing on this and supporting Will, than holding onto this hope that El is alive.
So even though Mike just got a sign that El is alive (which parallels to the initial evidence of her being alive outside his house, what literally initiated him to call out to her for almost a year), he doesn't revert back to his approach of not giving up. He sticks by his decision.
The irony of what happens with El the same night that Mike doesn't call, for the first time, is not lost on me...
Tragically, El doesn't know Mike actually gave up (just like she feared he did) because she lost her ability to communicate with him that night.
I wonder how differently things would have played out if she new the truth. Would she have held onto this really romanticized idea of her and Mike's relationship because he never gave up? Or would she have maybe reassured Mike that it was okay that he gave up and moved past it and still hoped and tried to make it work? Honestly, I think the later.
Because again, it's not Mike giving up that makes him a bad person or something that refutes his ability to love her romantically, it just means that it's not true that he never gave up.
And Mike being the only person to know this fact... Um... Cannot be good for him.
October 2nd (Day 355)
As El is trying to revive a modicum of hope that she can see Mike again through the void, to confirm her hopes that he didn't give up, by using the TV like she usually does, she discovers that the cord is broken. It's a lost cause.
On the other side of town, Mike is entirely focused on Will. The previous night, he did not reach out to El. He gave up. And El is none the wiser.
The writers made the choice to have one more night that Mike could have called El because he was at home that night on day 354, a day that actually involved an incident that you'd think would have reignited his hope that she was alive, before he inevitably jumped head first into focusing on Will, with him not being home for the rest of the season. They could have shown us Mike calling out to El from the other side of town, and then cut to her in her room not knowing... And yet, they didn't...
This is where I jump to the end, because the focus primarily when it comes to El and Mike's arcs for the rest of the season are with El trying to find her mom and discover more about herself, while Mike is trying to be there for Will in any way he can.
The sad part is that despite Mike giving up and trying to move on from El's death, that guilt is never really going to go away. He gave El expectations that she had to risk her life to find Will, and all of that built up and inadvertently led to her death.
But maybe Mike can right the wrongs he had El endure by following through on his focus of not letting Will die too? Maybe if Mike can save Will, El wouldn't have died for nothing?
But with this guilt and Mike trying to overcorrect it all, he's also experiencing very real and emotional moments with Will. Will is his best friend, and just a year ago Mike risked everything to get him back. A lot of those moments he experienced with El in s1, moments mixed with romantic expectations, are now also lingering here with him and his friend in s2. Except these aren't forced expectations. Everything Mike’s feeling and doing the entire time comes naturally to him, with none of it requiring pushing or advice from those around him. It's just pure instinct.
In the end, Mike's beside Joyce and Jonathan, who are sharing memories they have with Will to him in hopes it will prove to them he's still in there and able to be saved.
This emotional sequence builds up to Mike using his own memory of Will to try to reach him, one that comes off as platonic in every sense of the word, but visually, and when looked at in the grand scheme of things, especially with what is about to follow and those romantic expectations with El soon being thrust back on him... Well... Shit is about to get real messy.
Upon reuniting with El, Mike was quick to want to tell her that he never gave up, only for her to interrupt him with the exact number of days he called (before he gave up).
This is news to Mike for an abundance of reasons. It means he's not crazy and that El actually was alive those two times he saw her. All this (survivors) guilt that's been building up over the last year could have been avoided if he'd known that she didn't die, that she was okay.
It also means that for some reason, El heard him, and yet she doesn't know that he gave up...
And here Hopper is, revealing that he's been hiding her the whole time aka the perfect person for Mike to take all of this pent-up emotion out on.
Hopper then tells Mike that they will discuss this privately, which I find to be very interesting because it offers a chance for the viewer to see just a glimpse into Mike's emotional state at this moment, without everyone around to affect his ability to truly open up about how he's feeling. And not alone just anywhere in the house, but in Will's room...
Mike is understandably upset because El is alive and Hopper knew this whole time and didn't tell him.
While Hopper didn't technically lie to Mike, at least not in canon because we never got an outright scene on-screen of Mike asking Hopper if El was alive with him denying it (all while knowing she was), it's at the very least a lie of omission...
But the thing is, if Hopper not clueing Mike in on El being alive qualifies as a lie of omission (off-screen), so does Mike not telling El he gave up (on-screen).
If anything Mike's lie of omission also qualifies as a plain old lie, because he outright told El he didn't give up (lied) and didn't correct her when she informed him she knew he didn't. She fully believed it, despite him knowing deep down that it wasn't the full truth.
So while Mike is taking all of his anger out on Hopper as this fighting match comes to a head, it takes a turn.
Hopper is fine with Mike blaming him, he says it's 'okay'. But it's not. Nothing about this is okay to Mike, seeing as this isn't even the whole problem. It's not the problem Mike's actually hiding within his outburst in the first place.
Suddenly Mike starts screaming to Hopper that he's a 'disgusting, lying, piece of shit', chanting LIAR over and over and over again, shoving him repeatedly, only for him to fall into Hopper's arms and start crying, with Hopper reassuring him that he's okay.
Something tells me Mike's emotions here aren't all about Hopper...
Something tells me that Mike's fixation with the word liar doesn't apply to Hopper here as much as it applies to Mike himself (in his eyes)...
The main reason why I think this is what's actually going on here, is because there was no reason to put so much emphasize on this concept of Mike literally walking away that last time he called her.
Why go through the trouble of creating this misunderstanding, by having the TV not work, with El not being able to go into the void to see Mike, THE very night he gave up, if to not plant the seed that this misunderstanding was going to bear some significance? That this misunderstanding (lie? lie of omission?) was going to lead to El assuming Mike didn't give up, all while Mike knows he gave up, but going along with the story that he didn't, for both El's sake and his own?
BECAUSE it's a surprise tool that will help us later!
I also think it's interesting that they decided to have Will go off and dance with a girl at the snowball BEFORE Mike decided to devote himself to El here on out. Like... that is quite the choice after a season of highlighting this bond between Will and Mike where they promise to go crazy together, which is a moment we know Will took romantically.... So, is it possible Mike also took it romantically? We know Will also took Mike's speech to him in the shed romantically, so is it possible Mike did too, with that experience only heightening his emotions and confusion over his feelings for El when he found out she was alive shortly after, leading to his outburst? But then Will is going and dancing with the girl, and here we have Mike's own version of falling behind (the Time After Time lyrics were more literal than you think).
What if they didn't do all of that? Would things have maybe panned out slightly differently if Mike wasn't under the (incorrect) assumption that Will didn't take those moments romantically?
While Mike's guilt might have started in s1, when he played the biggest role in pushing expectations onto El to help them find Will, only for her to 'die', it doesn't end there. Mike's guilt only builds when he holds the knowledge that he did give up hoping she could be alive, all while allowing El to believe the opposite based on what she saw, which was a guiding force for not only her love and dedication to him flourishing, but also for him to then shift his own version of expectations onto himself going forward to make it up to El by trying to be who she wants him to be.
We see how romanticized 353 days is interpreted exclusively as meaning Mike has to be in love with El. But he did give up. So what does that mean for all of this? For their picture perfect love story?
What does it mean for Mike to hold onto this truth, a truth that makes him feel immense guilt, only for him to spend the next year or so making it up to her...?
It means either Mike has to come clean, or he has to deflect and double down.
What option do you think a guilt-ridden, repressed homosexual kid in the 80's is going to choose?
Answer? Deflect and double down.
In s3, Mike is so focused on worrying about El (giving her what he thinks she wants) so he can right all the building up of wrongs he has done at her expense since he met her, and as a result loses Will in the process (where have we heard this before...?)
Instead of Mike having a moment in s3 where he acknowledges that he himself was the first to ever refer to El as a weapon in the first place, to try to save Will in s1, he's now turning around and blaming the others for using El as a weapon 'for no reason'...
No reason? Really Mike? Is it for no reason, or is it just not a good enough reason to you this time?
Or maybe has Mike just actually spent enough time with El now to truly feel a bond with her in order to see her as a full person, slightly outside of this imaginary superhero he's cooked her up to be when he met her that day in the woods, the day his life started because she was his first and only hope of finding Will? (I say slightly bc... I mean we all saw what happened in s4?)
I honestly think it's a mix of both...
I also think it's not a coincidence that Mike doubling down instead of facing the truth about this manifestation of guilt only makes things worse for him. And El. And Will.
Because suddenly he's choosing this moment to blurt out that he loves and can't lose her again, in front of everyone, even to his own dismay and shock. And when El walks in and gives him a chance to say it to her himself, like any person whose in love with someone would want to do, to make them feel loved, he looks terrified.
And when the season ends and Mike is given another chance to say it finally, to El directly, in roughly the exact same spot he had his emotional outburst in the previous season over finding out she was alive at the same time he was still grappling with losing Will again, IN WILL'S ROOM, he freezes. He just lets what happens, happen.
Because after everything, with El right now in front of him, telling him she loves him while being fully convinced he loves her too after everything they've went through, how could he possibly take it back, or try to make her understand his complicated feelings about all of this?
Answer? He can't.
As hard as it is to believe (not that hard honestly based on his track record), Mike's deflection and stalling era is just beginning...
Reclaiming the Self: Trauma, Autonomy, and Love in Stranger Things / Not Broken, But Wounded: Agency and Choice in Will Byers’ Story
This remarkable post by @hideaway311812 powerfully illuminates the fact that Will’s face-to-face confrontation with Vecna—and the psychologically manipulative monologue Vecna delivers in order to weaken and corrupt him—does not exploit only Will’s homosexuality. It also weaponizes his status as a survivor of abuse: abuse inflicted both by Vecna himself and by the society that failed to protect him.
When Will ultimately activates his powers, it is not solely the result of self-acceptance as a queer individual, nor only the acceptance of his feelings for Mike. It is also an act of reclamation. Will reclaims his agency as a victim who lost control of his own body on the very night Vecna forced that vine into his mouth. This moment marks the return of autonomy to someone from whom it was violently taken.
As I discussed in my analysis of Vecna’s speech to Will in episode 4, when Vecna shows Will a flashback meant to demonstrate that he “broke so easily,” we are shown the scene in which Will speaks to Joyce after the Mind Flayer has entered him on the baseball field. It is no secret that this entire sequence functions as a powerful allegory for sexual assault, and Will’s words afterward mirror with devastating accuracy the emotional aftermath experienced by survivors.
“I tried. I tried to make it go away. But it got me, Mum. I felt it... everywhere. Everywhere. I... I still feel it. I just want it to be over.”
Anyone who lives with post-traumatic stress resulting from such abuse—particularly when it occurs in childhood—understands precisely what Will is describing. These words capture, with painful clarity, the torture of continuing to exist while carrying that trauma within one’s body. Vecna deliberately uses this memory to reinforce his control, to convince Will that he has never truly belonged to himself—that his body and mind have been Vecna’s since that night in November 1983.
Compounding this violation is the response of the world around Will. Upon his return, instead of receiving empathy or understanding, he is met with shame and ridicule—branded with the nickname “Zombie Boy.” This is a disturbingly accurate reflection of how society so often treats survivors: by humiliating them, trivializing their pain, refusing to take them seriously, and ultimately pushing them to the margins. Before season 1, Will was bullied for being queer. By season 2, he is bullied for having survived.
This is precisely why the memories that brought Will back in season 2 are the very same memories that later allow him to activate his powers, reclaim control, and assert his agency. These three memories share something essential beyond love and joy: consent and agency.
Joyce recalls the Rainbow Ship Will drew. She explains that on his birthday, despite receiving numerous Star Wars toys—then the ultimate trend for children his age, especially for a nerd like Will—he chose instead to spend his time drawing, using every color from the box of crayons he had been given to create that Rainbow Ship. This was his choice. His desire took precedence over expectations, trends, and social norms. Will chose the simplicity of crayons to pursue his artistic passion rather than conforming to what was considered popular.
Jonathan speaks of building Castle Byers after Lonnie left. The day they created Will’s safe place—his space. A place with a password: without it, you were not allowed to enter, and even with it, you had to wait for Will to grant permission. Castle Byers is not merely a symbol of safety or childhood innocence; it is a symbol of Will’s boundaries being respected. The castle was conceived together, designed through Will’s sketches, and built collaboratively with Jonathan. It was a shared effort, born of mutual respect—but ultimately, it was Will’s decision to build it with his brother.
And finally, there is Mike.
Mike saw Will alone on the swings. He approached him—and he asked. He asked if Will wanted to be friends. Will said yes. Their very first meeting—one that irrevocably changed both of their lives and grew into a bond that would become unbreakable—was founded on the purest definition of consent. Will chose to say yes. It was his decision to allow Mike into his life. His consent.
The foundation of Will and Mike’s relationship—of their connection, their loyalty, and their love—is consent itself.
Thus, Vecna’s monologue directed at Will was not solely designed to wound him through his homosexuality or his love for Mike. It was also a deliberate attempt to reach the deepest layer of his suffering: that of a survivor still living with post-traumatic stress, a trauma that has shaped—but does not define—his being.
However, what is often overlooked is that the resurfacing of Will’s childhood memories—those moments of happiness anchored by his emotional pillars—and Robin’s words were not meant only to guide him toward queer self-acceptance. They also served to remind Will of something essential: he is not what was done to him when he was twelve. He is not the trauma he endured, nor the pain that has followed him ever since. The very core of his identity is not rooted in violence or suffering; it is rooted in love, joy, and above all in autonomy—in his individuality as a person, in his capacity to choose, in his own desires, feelings, and emotions.
Will is not a consequence of what happened to him. He has always been that joyful, carefree, passionate, and loving child. He is not broken, as Vecna insists. He was wounded—deeply, profoundly—but he is not broken. At his core, he remains the same boy he was before any of this occurred.
This is precisely why Mike’s expression as he watches Will use his powers is so deeply revealing. It is not the look of someone who suddenly falls in love because the other appears powerful or impressive. It is a look of admiration, yes—but above all, of pride. Mike is profoundly proud of Will in that exact moment. Not only because Will saves his life, but because Mike has watched Will grow since they were five years old. He has witnessed Will through his worst moments as well as his best. As the 8mm-style flashback so clearly illustrates, Mike has been by Will’s side their entire lives.
Mike has seen it all. He has seen Will doubt himself, cry, and likely suffer abuse at the hands of his father. He has seen him bullied at school and heard the town’s cruel whispers. He has watched Will endure torment and hell, carry trauma from season one onward, and slowly lose his light. He has seen Will terrified, shattered by fear, suffering agony before his eyes. He has seen his innocence and confidence fade. He has seen everything.
(Not for nothing if the cast and Duffers brothers insisted the audience to rewatch the season 2 before season 5 by the way)
And in this precise moment, Mike sees that same Will grow, bloom, awaken his powers, and—most importantly—take control. What he also sees is that Will listened to him, and in doing so, proved that Mike was right to believe in him. Mike told Will that he was capable of regaining control over the visions caused by his connection to Vecna. And that is exactly what happens.
And this is not the first time this dynamic appears. This scene directly parallels the moment in season two when Mike tells Will that he can use the “Now Memories” imposed on him by the Mind Flayer to spy on it in return—and that is exactly what Will does immediately after that conversation with Mike. I previously wrote a post analyzing this parallel in more detail here, for those who may be interested.
Will struggled to believe it himself—but he listened to Mike. He chose to trust him, to internalize his words, and to act upon them. Once again, Will made a choice: to believe Mike and to accept that Mike believes in him. He accepted the confidence, the conviction, the potential, and the power that Mike sees within him.
This is no longer a matter of “Will needs Mike.” Will has finally understood that he does not need him—he wants him. This is not necessity; it is choice. It is Will’s choice. Will does not need Mike to exist or to grow; he chooses to listen to him. He chooses to value Mike’s perspective and words. It is not “I need Mike to become myself,” but rather, “I accept what you see in me—and that belief helps me rise even further.”
Will wants Mike to live, to be saved, to remain by his side. He does not need him—he wants to be with him. Just as he never needed Mike to become his friend, but wanted him to be. This is not fate. It is not destiny. It is pure choice—pure consent.
Exactly as they both chose, together, to be part of each other’s lives.
This was never about fate or “simply dumb luck.” They built this bond themselves. Mike asked Will if he wanted to be his friend. Will said yes. And from that moment on, they constructed their relationship through years of shared conversations, daily companionship, Dungeons & Dragons, laughter, drawing and writing together, mutual support, and the shared discovery of passions—games, films, music, art. They introduced each other to new interests, nurtured each other’s curiosity, and grew side by side.
All of it was organic. Natural. Evident. And at every step, it was grounded in choice.
It has always been about consent and agency—never about fate or destiny.
In the same way, Max and Lucas have always represented a matter of choice. Max chose to listen to Lucas. She chose to believe him and to take the risk. It was never about destiny or about what they were meant to do. Never. It has always been about wanting something—about desiring it and choosing to reach for it.
It is also crucial to emphasize that the final image of episode 4—the slow-motion shot that zooms in on Will—is quite literally Mike’s point of view. In that moment, we are looking at Will through Mike’s eyes. The audience becomes Mike’s gaze. And Mike is profoundly, overwhelmingly proud of Will in that instant.
This is also precisely why that shot of Will—the one framed through Mike’s perspective—has gone viral on TikTok and across the internet, and why so many people perceive Will as extraordinarily beautiful in that moment, as if he has undergone a “glow-up.” It is because we are seeing him the way Mike sees him. Mike sees him as beautiful. That is why the shot is in slow motion; why, despite the sweat, the dirt, and the tears, Will appears so striking and ethereal. It is because Mike perceives him that way. Will is, quite simply, perfect in Mike’s eyes.
Mike is looking at him with love—not because he suddenly falls in love in the moment Will saves his life, but because, after two and a half seasons without genuine access to Mike’s point of view, we are finally granted it. For the first time since a long time, we are allowed to see how Mike sees Will. He has been deeply in love with Will for a long time, and in this moment he is so overwhelmed by emotion and pride toward the person he loves that the audience is invited to inhabit his perspective. And what we see, through that gaze, is nothing but beauty and perfection.
It is therefore no coincidence that so many heterosexual viewers—often deeply blinded by heteronormativity and by a lack of media literacy, and who had never seriously considered the possibility that Mike’s feelings for Will might be reciprocal because they had not engaged with the show’s subtext—reacted to this scene with humor and delight, interpreting it as a “turning point.” They joked that Mike was suddenly “turned on,” that he abruptly fell in love with Will because he had powers or because he looked attractive.
What they were responding to, however, was unmistakable: Mike’s awe. His emotional overwhelm. His captivated gaze as he watches Will take control—and, through that gaze, witnesses Will as beautiful. Even if their interpretation is flawed—mistaking a revelation of existing love for the sudden emergence of it—they nonetheless cannot deny the presence of those feelings. Despite their heteronormative framing, the scene makes Mike’s love visible in a way that is impossible to fully dismiss.
In the end, even through misinterpretation, the truth still surfaces.
Ultimately, Stranger Things does not frame Will Byers’ journey as a story of fate, destiny, or inevitable suffering. It frames it as a story of choice.
Vecna’s attempt to break Will is not merely an attack on his queerness or on his love for Mike, but an effort to erase his autonomy by convincing him that he is nothing more than his trauma—that his body, his mind, and his identity were permanently stolen from him in November 1983. Yet Will’s resistance does not come from denying what happened to him. It comes from remembering who he has always been beyond it.
The memories that empower Will are not random flashes of happiness; they are moments rooted in consent, agency, and self-determination. They remind him that his identity was never forged through violence, but through love, joy, creativity, and the freedom to choose. Will is not broken. He was wounded. And there is a profound difference between the two.
In reclaiming control over his visions and activating his powers, Will does more than fight Vecna—he reclaims ownership of himself. He chooses to believe in his own autonomy again. And in choosing to trust Mike’s belief in him, Will does not become dependent; he affirms his strength. Mike does not complete Will. He sees him. He believes in him. And Will, in turn, chooses to accept that belief.
This is why the gaze matters. The slow-motion shot of Will in episode 4 is not about spectacle or power—it is about being seen. Through Mike’s eyes, we witness Will not as a victim, not as a survivor reduced to his pain, but as someone whole, radiant, and deeply loved. That love is not sudden, nor is it born of circumstance. It is the result of years of mutual choice—of two boys who repeatedly chose to let each other in, to grow together, and to remain side by side.
Just as Max chose to listen to Lucas, and just as Will once chose to say yes to Mike on the playground, every defining moment in this narrative is rooted in consent. Not fate. Not destiny. Not obligation. Choice.
And that is the heart of Will Byers’ story: he is not the sum of what was done to him. He is the sum of what he continues to choose—himself, his agency, his love, and the life he actively claims as his own.
so I was scrolling on the new Stranger Things tab on spotify and I think we could see this as Byler proof?
I mean, of course, it also means that Vecna is inside Will's mind as well, "torn between two worlds" being him probably being possessed by Vecna on vol. 2, but the:"whether or not to stay in an indecisive relationship"? "as Will begins to send his signals"? oh yes, that is, right there, Byler proof.
proof that Will is gonna send signals to Mike, the signals we barely see him reciprocating compared to Mike, who always starts the shared looks, the touch of the elbow...
Mike will finally see more of that Will flirting with him, but now more confident. more confident in his love for Mike. a Will that is sure that, if Mike loves him back, he will act on it.
Actually, changing the line from "You should have reached out to me" to "Maybe you should have reached out more" is quite insane.
You're telling me they wanted to make it less obvious?
Because we only learn in the last episode of Season 4 that Mike was reaching out the whole time.
Meaning, the original scripted line "You should have reached out to me" implies that, perhaps...
Will didn't reach out at all.
Meaning Mike genuinely did feel like he lost Will.
(It also makes the line "That's because she's my girlfriend, Will" less acerbic because, from Mike's perspective, maybe that is the reason why Will didn't reach out as much. Since they're "friends," not boyfriends. How would he know what is acceptable behavior in this situation for two (best) friends? We can assume this is the first time a childhood friend of his has moved away.)
So, when Will says this—a line that didn't really make much sense to me the first time I watched the scene, THIS is what he's referring to. That not reaching out to Mike that we didn't directly witness on camera.
But, by doing that, he was, in fact, pushing Mike away. And he's aware of it.
It seems then that Will didn't first try to rip off the bandaid in the van.
He tried to do it after he moved, and he clearly had a change of "heart," which is why he was acting "weird." He was going back and forth.
Like, I know we already knew this, but it is nice to add another point to the "Mike doesn't think Will likes him back" narrative.
And, beyond that, it actually makes complete sense why Will pushed Mike away, even if it doesn't make sense to Mike himself. In the same way that Mike's actions don't make sense to Will, but they definitely do to the audience. (This is simply dramatic irony done well.)
I mean, think about it:
Mike essentially tells Will that they are not going to end up together in his basement the rest of their lives (this symbolizes their intimate relationship), and that this is directly because of his relationship with El ("girlfriends," the reason things have changed from what they were, a previously very intimate connection).
Mike and El then break up, and Will and Mike's relationship grows close again.
They have a very flirty moment at the end of Season 3 in which Will promises his commitment to Mike (DnD is a stand-in for this), and Mike visibly blushes. They hug goodbye, and Will cries.
Will then finds out after all of this that Mike and El are back together again—and he can do nothing about it.
So, he just lost Mike even worse than he had the previous summer, after getting his hopes dashed once more. (He loses him once again to El, and he loses him to the move. This represents a very slow death to their relationship, a "slow-motion breakup," if you will, that is referenced with Jancy who is going through the same thing. Will therefore considers ripping off the bandaid completely, but goes back and forth on his commitment to the idea.)
If you're not convinced that this is possible, consider this:
Will doesn't actually rip the bandaid off in the van scene either, even if that is the scene in which the idea is insinuated. He actually started the scene with hope and optimism. His intention shifted when he heard Mike speak poorly of himself.
He is also shown visibly yearning in the pizza parlor.
So, when did he likely rip it off?
Here.
But that is not true, either, based on the events of the fifth season.
So, what can we gather from all this?
Will has tried to rip the bandaid off and failed each time. And the reason he has failed each time has been because of something Mike has done to restore his hope.
Well, if Will has tried to get over his best friend by "ripping off the bandaid" and failed repeatedly... So has Mike.
The Snowball, the rain fight scene, the Rinkomania argument, his monologue. Each an instance in which we see Mike try over and over again to shove his feelings down and move on fron Will with El, but he keeps going back each time, regretful, after Will rekindles hope. (Hell, even the script for him kissing El the first time in Season 1 frames his perspective as "there, I did it!" A lot like ripping a bandaid off.)
"I guess I did. I really did." / "Not possible." / "We used to be best friends." / "You're the heart." / *saves his life*
And based on this alone,
it is obvious that the writers wanted to emphasize the fear they both have of being honest about their feelings. Make it something big.
This is the misunderstanding trope on slow burn steroids, and I am here for it.
All this to say, the reason Mike and Will can't get over each other is because they both keep giving each other reasons not to. It is a back and forth that they are both responsible for.
Moments after Will "accepted himself" regardless of the possibility of Mike not returning his feelings:
(Mike Wheeler, I don't know if you should stand up or sit down.)
Now. The Duffers have said the ending they wrote felt "inevitable." And that makes sense.
If neither one of these characters are going to stop giving the other more and more and increasingly more reason to hope, eventually, that hope becomes realized. It becomes a reality.
And they are not going to suddenly stop this pattern of giving the other hope this late into the series, when the hope is amplifying the hope, again and again. It is accruing like a snowball, getting bigger and bigger. It compounds.
In the wise words of Hairspray, "You can't stop an avalanche as it races down the hill."
And that is the whole point! The writers are not stopping what they started, and it cannot stop at this point. There is a mutual misunderstanding-feedback loop getting stronger, like a signal that eventually reaches.
do you guys remember when a lot of us theorized this was will giving up and sacrificing himself? whole time it’s actually will finding his inner strength by thinking about how loved he is. by accepting who he is and gaining power from it.
he thinks of meeting mike, of hanging with him in mike’s basement. he thinks of drawing for jonathan and joyce. of building castle byers. he thinks of the things that make him special - his creativity, playfulness and wonder and whimsy.
he is an artist. he is a sorcerer in a hat and robe. he is a good friend. he’s sweet and sensitive and thoughtful. he is a son and a brother. he is queer. he is STRONGER because of all of these things.
vecna called him weak, and he immediately said “no the fuck i’m not?” and drew on self-love and love for the people in his life, all to tap into his power and SAVE THEM.
A meta-analysis on Robin and Will's conversation about queer "signals"
Okay, I love this scene, and not just because it features Will and Robin discreetly discussing the nuances of queer romance.
I love this scene as a writer specifically, due to it's clever and subtle use of authorial intrusion disguised as character dialogue.
Authorial intrusion
Through authorial intrusion, the author/s can address the audience intimately, even under the guise of an existing character.
It allows the author/s to communicate directly to the audience; commenting on the narrative, stating an opinion, or posing a question. It doesn't require a breaking of the fourth wall.
It's similar to author or audience surrogacy. For example, Steve often acts as an audience surrogate in the series — the "simple" voice who asks questions which prompt exposition (usually from Dustin or Nancy), clarifying the plot.
Will and Robin’s scene is certainly seeking clarity, but it isn’t about exposition. It’s about introspection.
So, what is the alleged moment of authorial intrusion in question? It's this simple (and incredibly meta) line from Will, who is this season's lead protagonist: "How obvious?"
Of course, what Will is referring to here is Robin's notion of signals, aka subtle flirtation or signs of mutual attraction — particularly through the lens of queerness, which can be more difficult to navigate and discern.
To provide a succinct summary, the scene plays out like this:
-> Will asks Robin how she knew Vicki wanted to date her.
-> Robin says Vicki sent her subtle "signals" such as a brush of the knee, a bump of the elbow, or a shared look.
-> These little things (compared to a snowball) accrued and eventually became "obvious."
-> Will, acting as a stand-in for the authors, poses the ultimate question: "How obvious?"
This is an extremely "meta" line, because it's as if the authors are completing an exercise in writing a queer romance in real-time. Through this question, the writers are examining their own craft, and gently prompting us to join them.
Questioning the approach
The writers are pondering their own approach to Mike and Will's storyline; How obvious can we make it, or rather, how obvious should we make it? What is even considered "obvious" in this case? Is a shared look or lingering touch obvious, or not?
It's not a condescending question either — they're not saying you should find it obvious, and if not, you're an idiot.
It's not, "How obvious do we have to make it for you to get it, dammit?!"
It's more like, "We've tried to lay down the foundation, but we're unsure if it will land. How can we make this work?"
And this is why it's a question worth asking — there's no clear, universal answer. The writers don't have a lot of material to draw upon. They've probably been pondering this question in the writer's room for awhile.
So, they want to know if their signals have been received, and if so, were those signals obvious or obscure? How obvious should they make it to land the plane?
Providing an answer
The funny thing is, although they're curious to know what the auidence thinks, it's not intended for us to answer — because they've already finished the script.
They've made up their minds concerning "how obvious" they wish to go, and what that looks like to them.
They declared their answer through Robin:
It will become an avalanche.
They've even provided us with a visual metaphor for their chosen technique:
-> The subtle, "little things" like shared looks are like snowballs.
-> The snowball accrues and builds over time, gaining mass.
-> Eventually, it becomes an avalanche; massive and sudden.
The visual metaphor here emphasizes mass and timing — if they do this, then they want it to feel crushingly heavy, and abrupt.
And although they want to make it as obvious as an avalanche, they don't want it to be obvious all the time, and they don't want to make it too predictable — because avalanches cannot be predicted, it's only possible to assess the risk or likelihood.
Will foreshadowed as the "receiver"
So, this question deserves a thematic answer, because it's been introduced as a story element which Will is keenly invested in — it's Chekhov's gun.
There was no point to including this scene unless we can expect to see a snowball turn into an avalanche. Otherwise, they've taught Will how to examine his love life only to... not give him a love life.
You don't tell a character to look for signals if you're not going to give them signals to pick up on. And curiously (yet not so curious, because it was intentional), Will has already been referred to as a receiver of signals.
Like, quite literally in the episode before this conversation took place, by the same exact person.
So according to Robin, Will is a receiver, because he has an antenna.
Antennae convert electric currents into radio waves, or vice versa. In that way, the role of Will's metaphorical antenna isn't just to pick up signals, it's to convert them into something meaningful.
To decode them.
Why does that sound familiar?
Ah! Because Robin is already an expert in decoding — she solved the Russian code in s3, after all.
She even explicitly states that the point of code is to communicate something sensitive.
This is a commentary on the queer experience: you have to be careful, subtle, and possibly even use another language (or "cant") if you want your message to be safely received. For example, gay men and women in the UK used to speak in a form of cant called Polari to identify each other when homosexuality was criminalized. (x).
Will and Mike seem to agree with Robin — some things are very hard to say outright, and out loud.
The signals are "queer code"
And yes, that is a play on words.
The queer signals must be decoded and therefore, they are a form of queer code. Furthermore, Robin makes a direct reference to the Enigma machine — a cipher device used by Nazi Germany during World War II.
Robin states that the Enigma machine "won the war" which is simplified phrasing. Perhaps what she means to say is that the Enigma code won the war — because cracking the code played a crucial role in the Allied victory.
In fact, Alan Turing's contributions to cracking the Enigma code as cryptanalyst were so instrumental that he was awarded an OBE (Officer of the Order of the British Empire).
Alan Turing was famously gay (and later persecuted for it), and also happens to be the historical figure Will chose as his "hero" for his history assignment in s4.
While shared looks, subtle lip glances, and the brushing of hands are all signals intended for Will to decode, these small "easter eggs" are signals for the audience.
Subtext and text which hints at Will's queerness — because as of Season 5 Volume I, he is still yet to claim his sexuality (even if it seems obvious to us).
This is queer-coding in practice. And yes, Mike receives his own fair share of coding too — just look at his ridiculous bedroom.
Where is this leading?
It's leading to gay romance, obviously.
Will receiving no signals simply isn’t narratively coherent. The story has already established him as the receiver and decoder of queer signals.
What I'm personally getting from this, dear reader, is that we have two possible outcomes before us:
Will experiences a fully developed on-screen romance with a new love interest, complete with subtle signs which eventually become obvious over a period of time.
Will continues to recieve signals from Mike, which culminate into an "avalanche" scene — the writers' attempt at making it "obvious."
It's not a question of, "will he receive signals?" It's a question of, "who is he going to receive signals from?"
I now pose the question to you: which of the two options feels more likely, considering the way the story has been written thus far, and the screentime we have left?
I think the answer seems obvious, but I guess I could be wrong. After all, the entire point of the question is that "obvious" is not so easy to define.
At least we know Will is going to get some use out of that "antenna" of his.
“We really need some magic up here” he said to the “magical radio receiver”
THE F*CKING RADIO TOWER BEHIND MIKE LMAO he’s broadcasting signals and he doesn’t even know it. Funny how the radio tower/station has been broken down this season and they’ve been having to connect some wires and reset the breakers…
A meta-analysis on Robin and Will's conversation about queer "signals"
Okay, I love this scene, and not just because it features Will and Robin discreetly discussing the nuances of queer romance.
I love this scene as a writer specifically, due to it's clever and subtle use of authorial intrusion disguised as character dialogue.
Authorial intrusion
Through authorial intrusion, the author/s can address the audience intimately, even under the guise of an existing character.
It allows the author/s to communicate directly to the audience; commenting on the narrative, stating an opinion, or posing a question. It doesn't require a breaking of the fourth wall.
It's similar to author or audience surrogacy. For example, Steve often acts as an audience surrogate in the series — the "simple" voice who asks questions which prompt exposition (usually from Dustin or Nancy), clarifying the plot.
Will and Robin’s scene is certainly seeking clarity, but it isn’t about exposition. It’s about introspection.
So, what is the alleged moment of authorial intrusion in question? It's this simple (and incredibly meta) line from Will, who is this season's lead protagonist: "How obvious?"
Of course, what Will is referring to here is Robin's notion of signals, aka subtle flirtation or signs of mutual attraction — particularly through the lens of queerness, which can be more difficult to navigate and discern.
To provide a succinct summary, the scene plays out like this:
-> Will asks Robin how she knew Vicki wanted to date her.
-> Robin says Vicki sent her subtle "signals" such as a brush of the knee, a bump of the elbow, or a shared look.
-> These little things (compared to a snowball) accrued and eventually became "obvious."
-> Will, acting as a stand-in for the authors, poses the ultimate question: "How obvious?"
This is an extremely "meta" line, because it's as if the authors are completing an exercise in writing a queer romance in real-time. Through this question, the writers are examining their own craft, and gently prompting us to join them.
Questioning the approach
The writers are pondering their own approach to Mike and Will's storyline; How obvious can we make it, or rather, how obvious should we make it? What is even considered "obvious" in this case? Is a shared look or lingering touch obvious, or not?
It's not a condescending question either — they're not saying you should find it obvious, and if not, you're an idiot.
It's not, "How obvious do we have to make it for you to get it, dammit?!"
It's more like, "We've tried to lay down the foundation, but we're unsure if it will land. How can we make this work?"
And this is why it's a question worth asking — there's no clear, universal answer. The writers don't have a lot of material to draw upon. They've probably been pondering this question in the writer's room for awhile.
So, they want to know if their signals have been received, and if so, were those signals obvious or obscure? How obvious should they make it to land the plane?
Providing an answer
The funny thing is, although they're curious to know what the auidence thinks, it's not intended for us to answer — because they've already finished the script.
They've made up their minds concerning "how obvious" they wish to go, and what that looks like to them.
They declared their answer through Robin:
It will become an avalanche.
They've even provided us with a visual metaphor for their chosen technique:
-> The subtle, "little things" like shared looks are like snowballs.
-> The snowball accrues and builds over time, gaining mass.
-> Eventually, it becomes an avalanche; massive and sudden.
The visual metaphor here emphasizes mass and timing — if they do this, then they want it to feel crushingly heavy, and abrupt.
And although they want to make it as obvious as an avalanche, they don't want it to be obvious all the time, and they don't want to make it too predictable — because avalanches cannot be predicted, it's only possible to assess the risk or likelihood.
Will foreshadowed as the "receiver"
So, this question deserves a thematic answer, because it's been introduced as a story element which Will is keenly invested in — it's Chekhov's gun.
There was no point to including this scene unless we can expect to see a snowball turn into an avalanche. Otherwise, they've taught Will how to examine his love life only to... not give him a love life.
You don't tell a character to look for signals if you're not going to give them signals to pick up on. And curiously (yet not so curious, because it was intentional), Will has already been referred to as a receiver of signals.
Like, quite literally in the episode before this conversation took place, by the same exact person.
So according to Robin, Will is a receiver, because he has an antenna.
Antennae convert electric currents into radio waves, or vice versa. In that way, the role of Will's metaphorical antenna isn't just to pick up signals, it's to convert them into something meaningful.
To decode them.
Why does that sound familiar?
Ah! Because Robin is already an expert in decoding — she solved the Russian code in s3, after all.
She even explicitly states that the point of code is to communicate something sensitive.
This is a commentary on the queer experience: you have to be careful, subtle, and possibly even use another language (or "cant") if you want your message to be safely received. For example, gay men and women in the UK used to speak in a form of cant called Polari to identify each other when homosexuality was criminalized. (x).
Will and Mike seem to agree with Robin — some things are very hard to say outright, and out loud.
The signals are "queer code"
And yes, that is a play on words.
The queer signals must be decoded and therefore, they are a form of queer code. Furthermore, Robin makes a direct reference to the Enigma machine — a cipher device used by Nazi Germany during World War II.
Robin states that the Enigma machine "won the war" which is simplified phrasing. Perhaps what she means to say is that the Enigma code won the war — because cracking the code played a crucial role in the Allied victory.
In fact, Alan Turing's contributions to cracking the Enigma code as cryptanalyst were so instrumental that he was awarded an OBE (Officer of the Order of the British Empire).
Alan Turing was famously gay (and later persecuted for it), and also happens to be the historical figure Will chose as his "hero" for his history assignment in s4.
While shared looks, subtle lip glances, and the brushing of hands are all signals intended for Will to decode, these small "easter eggs" are signals for the audience.
Subtext and text which hints at Will's queerness — because as of Season 5 Volume I, he is still yet to claim his sexuality (even if it seems obvious to us).
This is queer-coding in practice. And yes, Mike receives his own fair share of coding too — just look at his ridiculous bedroom.
Where is this leading?
It's leading to gay romance, obviously.
Will receiving no signals simply isn’t narratively coherent. The story has already established him as the receiver and decoder of queer signals.
What I'm personally getting from this, dear reader, is that we have two possible outcomes before us:
Will experiences a fully developed on-screen romance with a new love interest, complete with subtle signs which eventually become obvious over a period of time.
Will continues to recieve signals from Mike, which culminate into an "avalanche" scene — the writers' attempt at making it "obvious."
It's not a question of, "will he receive signals?" It's a question of, "who is he going to receive signals from?"
I now pose the question to you: which of the two options feels more likely, considering the way the story has been written thus far, and the screentime we have left?
I think the answer seems obvious, but I guess I could be wrong. After all, the entire point of the question is that "obvious" is not so easy to define.
At least we know Will is going to get some use out of that "antenna" of his.
“We really need some magic up here” he said to the “magical radio receiver”
THE F*CKING RADIO TOWER BEHIND MIKE LMAO he’s broadcasting signals and he doesn’t even know it. Funny how the radio tower/station has been broken down this season and they’ve been having to connect some wires and reset the breakers…