Stranger Things has had to serve a lot of masters in its final season, balancing what often feels like a dozen competing plot threads and steadily expanding mysteries. But its most satisfying decision has been to finally put Will Byers back at the center of the action. The boy whose original disappearance started this whole adventure seems poised to help bring it to an end, as he and his friends prepare to face off against Vecna and confront the next stage of their lives. And, for Will, part of that journey has necessarily involved accepting who he is.
The show has been teasing out Will’s exploration of his sexuality for several seasons now, primarily by way of his obvious crush on his best friend Mike. The show has smartly never mocked him for his feelings or made them into some sort of joke that the character’s not in on, an uncomfortable joke for his friends or the audience watching at home to laugh at. Instead, Stranger Things gave Will a much-needed queer mentor in Robin, who offered him a real-world example that he could be both true to himself and happy. And now, in its penultimate episode, Stranger Things finally addresses the issue directly, allowing Will to finally claim the identity he’s so long been afraid to name. “I don’t like girls,” he says. “I mean…I do. Just…just not like you guys do.”
To be fair, it almost feels cruel to criticize Will’s big moment here. Noah Schnapp sells the heck out of a genuinely moving monologue that doesn’t pull its punches about what a big, earthshattering deal it would have been for a kid to come out in the 1980s. This isn’t to say coming out isn’t an equally important experience for LGBTQ youth in 2025, merely that we’re — thankfully — a long way from an Indiana in the early days of the AIDS crisis when Will would have had precious few public role models for how to decide who he wanted to be. This is, truly, a big deal. It matters. And that’s why the way Stranger Things chose to handle it feels so clunky and unfortunate.
Will doesn’t come out in a one-on-one conversation with the mother who’s always adored him, the brother who’s protected him, or any of the core group of friends who’ve been by his side for most of his life. Instead, he’s forced to bare his soul in front of what feels like half the town, including several people he’s barely shared any screentime with. What is Kali doing as part of this moment? Or Murray? What value does Vickie’s presence add, beyond her being queer herself? Has she ever even met Will? At this point, they might as well just go on and wheel Karen in here from the hospital so she can take part as well!
