Chapter 7
Wong is much busier than Strange but makes time to have breakfast with you – you make sure you appreciate it. He has ‘higher duties’ as the Sorcerer Supreme, whatever that could possibly mean, though it soundsrealistic and important and… ambiguous. You secretly think he like you more, because you’re quieter. Perhaps more his pace.
He likes cooking, though doesn’t make much time to do it with all that regularly goes on in the sanctum. You think it’s also easier for him to cook when he’s cooking for others. For all that he corrals you into a chair in the kitchen and berates you for not eating well, says that that’s why you’re fainting, says that’s why you look gaunt. You’re not sure that all this is true. Secretly, you think he wants the excuse to cook as much as he wants the excuse to care. He makes huffing tutting noises while tending to a sizzling pan that smells… heavenly. And stalwartly refuses to make you black tea. He serves you a small cup of rice tea, and then serves a pot of green tea. There’s a bowl of strawberries you pick at while he cooks and tuts. It warms you to have someone fuss over you.
He may have an agenda to feed you, but you still have an agenda to needle him on information about Strange. The man can be so… odd. You’re not exactly sure how to go about it, and tact may not be your strong suit so you just… ask.
“I was wondering…”
“Mm?” Wong hums, but the tone has an edge of warning. He already knows what’s coming.
“Why is Strange… so… proud?” That’s not exactly what you wanted to ask. But there. That’s a start.
Wong doesn’t answer you but keeps cooking. Bacon sizzling as he cracks an egg into the pan.
“It’s only that, sometimes he’s lovely and we get on so well but then… then I get the feeling that something shifts, and I want to yell at him, or he yells at me. It’s like he doesn’t respect me. For no reason, it seems.”
Wong hums again, moving about the kitchen. You can’t see his face so you munch on another strawberry, setting the greens to the side of your plate waiting for an explanation.
“Maybe it’s less a matter of respect than it is one of paying attention to the matter at hand.”
“What do you mean?”
“You two are busily comparing egos and knowledge rather than putting your knowledge together. You may know yourself better than he does, but he also knows other things better than you. Both can be true without being false. Neither of you needs to be better than the other.”
You hide your flushed face in your tea.
And fuck, of course you should know this, and do, on some basic level, but Strange aggravates you. Despite the softening moment you shared last night where you shared your wounds and grievances – whatever that was. You’re still two people butting heads, trying to out-do each other. All the knowledge and training in the world can’t make a person act rationally if they don’t remember to. How long has it been since you’ve studied psychology? All of this is basic, obvious. You’re being obtuse, really. Not that Strange isn’t also.
You’re grateful Wong lives with Strange and must see this man through many moods. Strange must be awfully moody.
“So how do I approach him? What do I do? Give me the Doctor Strange masterclass.”
“I don’t want to be involved.” Wong slides bacon, eggs, and cooked tomatoes from the pan onto your plate.
“But you can help! It’ll make… all of this easier.” You gesture vaguely to the household.
“You’re both adults. You’re capable of conversation.” He shakes this head giving you toast, avocado.
Your mouth is salivating, and you stretch, ready for a hearty meal. “Clearly not.”
“Only if you stop being so prideful.” That’s a keen sting. You remember your mother telling you just the same. That you had a prideful streak. It’s one of the last things she told you.
You frown at Wong and cut into a bursting tomato, piercing a forkful of assorted breakfast and shoving it into your mouth.
“Have you chosen a book yet?”
Wong had set aside a small pile of books for you; he’d left three on your nightstand. All on different paths of astronomy. It’s not a vein of interest you’d considered before, but being thrust into this world, it’s the closest thing to magic you were willing to venture into without being fully immersed, while still talking to these men on topics of their field. You do want to know more; you know you can’t stay completely ignorant to what’s going on while living in the middle of it all, but you’re certainly not going to dip into magical knowledge. It’s all… too much too quick, and migraines are still far too prevalent to push yourself too much. Astronomy is practical and suits you just fine. It has plenty of real-world application. Surely. Somewhere.
You tell Wong which of the three you’ve picked – one on black holes. You figure you’ll stick to the area you’ve started with, with the odd book you picked off the shelf at random previously. Wong has let you keep that book too. It’s in your room and you’ll keep it until you can properly understand it. But for now, another.
Here is a book more generally on black holes. You slide it across the table. “Here’s the lucky winner.”
“Ah!” Wong exclaims. “Ombert's Treatise. A good one, your interest has been piqued?”
“In black holes? I suppose. I thought I’d try to understand one subject at a time.” You’re cautious that he may be reading too far into it – is there a way to read into it? You greatly dislike being psychoanalysed against your will. It’s only black holes for goodness’ sake.
“Have you read much?” He asks.
“Not really. Just the introduction and a few pages. It’s… intimidating though.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, to think a black hole can eat anything at all.”
“Eat? What an interesting perspective. They suck in all things and no things escape, certainly.”
“Inescapable?”
“And it’s inevitable.”
“Oh.”
“If a star is large enough and its mass is too, when it dies - black hole.”
“But where does it go? Where does the black hole lead to?”
“I don’t know why you expect me to know.”
“You have magic, don’t you?”
Wong blinks. “I would never go to the edge of the universe or into a black hole. There are dangerous uses of magic. If I went there, there’s no saying whether I’d come back. You’re also assuming that I have the capability of going to the edge of the universe.”
“Do you?”
He frowns. “I haven’t tried. And I’m not going to. That’s very far, and ever-expanding.”
“You couldn’t just check?”
“Check? You want me to check the farthest reach of the unknown universe, further than the furthest star, the newest realms? Check in the pocket of a black hole to see if I’m torn apart like string and ribbons? It’s good to heed the knowledge of others. There are scientists who say it’s deadly in a black hole – I believe them because I’m not a scientist!”
“No, I’d never ask you to! I’m… wondering if you have before. I don’t know the extent of your magic!”
“Ah,” Wong tuts. You have the inescapable feeling that for some reason he might rap your knuckles. “You and Strange. Your ambition is too high; you’re too questioning. You need to learn that satisfaction isn’t realistic.”
“I’m not after satisfaction, I’m only… curious.”
“Yet still, you ask.”
You shrug. “I suppose. It can’t hurt. I wouldn’t know if I didn’t ask.”
Wong tuts again and has another go at his breakfast.
It’s delicious and wholesome, fulling and the best meal you’ve had in… months. You’re thankful he likes to cook, and wanted to. You’re happy for him to pick at you every now and then if it means you’ll get a good meal. You might just have to sneak black tea, and see if you can get Strange to go out with you for a coffee.
There’s a strange thought. Why can’t you go out for one by yourself? It’s not like New York is unknown to you. But… it would be nice to go and have an outing with him. And coffee. Perhaps without portals this time. You try to hide your smile in your eating. What is happening?
“So, Strange has had questions like that? He’s wanted to go to the edge of the universe?”
“He had many questions when he first arrived. He has a reaching mind. His curiosity has only grown.”
“That’s pretty understandable. I mean, with all magic at your fingertips, why wouldn’t you want to know how far it goes?”
Wong makes a noise again. This time somewhat like a huff.
You clear your throat. “Thank you for breakfast. And thank you for having me here by the way. I’m not sure if I’ve said it before.”
“Strange was the one who wanted you here.”
You swallow. “You didn’t at all?”
“I don’t believe in mixing work. You’re a liability.”
You go cold, which feels odd after the hot breakfast, now sitting heavy in your gut. “You don’t like me?”
“Whether or not I like someone isn’t part of the matter. It’s dangerous to have you here. Between our responsibilities, his as Master of the Sanctum and my own as the Sorcerer Supreme, it can be troubling to have extraneous… circumstances.”
“And I’m circumstances? I mean I’m… Do you think I’m getting underfoot?”
“You’re an unknown variable, and that can be dangerous. Strange likes to avoid considering what’s dangerous and go with his desires. We need to be responsible for what we already have and have sworn to protect.”
“Do you want me to leave? Are you,” You clear your throat, “Are you saying I’m putting this at risk?”
Wong stares at you a long moment. “I don’t want him to put you at risk. Strange can forget that he’s not all-powerful; he thinks far too much with his head and doesn’t act with his hands.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means he juggles too many balls or spins too many plates at once, and does so because he’s intelligent he thinks he can. Sometimes he can spin a great many, but I’m afraid he may spin one plate too many, and that plate might be you.”
“Well.” You feel incredibly awkward in that moment but can’t help but fight a smile. “You’re here too, right? You spin some things too?”
“No. If he’s taken you on as his ward, then you are not my responsibility. I know my capacity.”
Your smile fades. “Oh.”
“I enjoy your company, and I won’t say you’re not welcome, but if something were to happen to you as a result of you staying here… it’s not my responsibility. This isn’t a safe place to live. This isn’t a hostel.”
You pull Strange’s hoodie tighter around you. “I know that. I’m not treating it like one. I’m… I don’t have anywhere else to be – not really.”
“And that’s okay.” Wong pats his hand on the table reassuringly. “But you need to know. Strange said he will care for you here, that he will be a doctor – but it doesn’t mean that you will be safe. If anything, you are in more danger here than anywhere else.”
You nod a bit and shrug a bit. “Yeah, I mean… yeah. That’s okay. That’s alright with me. It is, really. I’m sure you think I’m ignorant, and I’m sure I am, but even if I’m in danger, I don’t… really have many options. I do want to be here, and I feel good here. I want to be here. If that’s okay.”
“It is. But you needed to know. Sooner or later, something is going to happen in the sanctum that will affect you.”
“What, like it’s inevitable?”
Wong lowers his head in thought.
“I sort of… need Strange at the moment. For all of him being a nuisance, and us annoying each other, and our… pride. And I like being around you too and thank you for taking care of me, just…” You swallow. Too many words are coming out and you feel that everything has already been said. You wish you had the knack that other people seem to where they say words that seem to be enough, but words seem to endlessly tumble out of you.
But you were being truthful. You need Strange. There’s nowhere else for you to go. You’ve found him, stumbled into him, you've been caught in his orbit, and there’s no other options – you can’t go back to the way you were living. There’s no other way for you to be living. He is inescapable. He is inevitable. He is your own, prideful black hole.
Here you are. Caught.