Mike finally asks when they’re all at Scoops Ahoy-- celebrating Dustin’s return from camp. Will’s trying to read the little hand-out menu, but he’s holding it SO close to his face.

Mike says something dumb and cute like: Why are you trying to kiss the menu, I'm right here. And Will will smile but then sigh with a quiet, I can't read it, Mike. It's so... blurry. Robin asks for his order and it keeps Mike from looking that deeply into Will’s sentence. He shrugs and silently notes the menu is over crowded and overwhelming. Mike helps Will decide what to order-- but it isn’t until later he realizes he was actually helping Will read the cluttered print.

They’re at the arcade, just the two of them, when Mike notices-- really notices-- it again. They’re playing Galaga and Will is a terrible shot. Like... he’s awful. He’s standing strangely far away from the machine and constantly looking over at Mike, almost as if he’s nervous. Mike steps back, thinking he’s crowding Will, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps checking on Mike-- or maybe seeing how Mike is checking up on him. Which, truthfully, he’s starting to do; Will hasn’t made it past the first level yet and is running low on quarters.

Mike asks what the problem is: what is he looking at, looking for? He places his hand on Will’s back, assuring him he’s with Will, in case he’s getting anxious about the noise in the arcade or the shuffling of people. Will sighs as he loses again and lets his shoulders fall. As the new screen boots up, he waits a moment before leaning in toward the screen, nose an unsanitary distance to it.

“Can you really not see that screen?” Mike asks, knowing his incredulousness isn’t helping but... it’s Will. If he can be honest and open with anyone without minding his words, it’s him. And this is a moment he doesn’t want to walk around. He’s never seen Will do this before. Never seen him struggle so much to see.

“No.” Will says back. His tone is short but also tired. A quiet plea: why can’t I? “I can’t see anything lately. It’s all... a giant fuzz.”

“You should tell your mom.” Mike starts thinking about where his dad goes to get his glasses and where his doctor is. He figures they’re friends; they’ll help each other out and help Will.

“She’s busy... I don’t know. She’s busy reading a lot of the time I don’t want to interrupt her-- whatever she’s studying.” Will lets the game go and loses again. He’s looking at Mike, but they’re close enough he doesn’t have to squint.

“You have to. This is important.” Mike says. “You’re important. You can’t be walking around blind. You won’t always have me to be your eyes.”

“Why not?” Will says, shoulders sagging. “Then maybe Mom will stop talking about moving.”

“Yeah... maybe. Then you’ll just have to be with me forever.”

“Forever, yeah.”

“But I do think glasses could be nice. Really thin round ones? Like a scientist or something!”

“You mean like Egon?”

“Yeah! Yeah! Our very own Spengler! Oh my Ghostbusting hero.” Mike pretends to swoon and Will nearly knocks him over with a gentle shove.