Chapter 1
I still wasn't used to living in New York, after all those years, it still felt like a distant land to me. Perhaps it was because I never felt welcome but who in their right mind had the time to welcome me? Everyone was constantly on the move having no time to even glance at the stranger who had offered them a kind smile. Did I ever stop offering that same smile, though? Never. For there was always a man who smiled back, however busy he may have been.
“Good morning, Wong - how does the sunrise treat us today?” This was his usual greeting after I returned back inside from meditating on the roof of our Greenwich Village home. Most would suspect we had no garden but hidden from the street’s view was a small, quaint roof garden. Planters overfilling with an abundance of flowers lined the sides, flowers of which could be found nowhere else on Earth. I had warned my good friend that having plants from far off dimensions out in the open was dangerous but since no one ever saw this space, I soon settled to agree. It was, after all, a beautiful sight to open your eyes to after meditating through the early hours.
“The sun promises riches today, Strange.” I glanced down at the table where he was sat, annoyed to see there wasn't a lick of food to be seen. “Are you not eating?” My eyes narrowed, however, he would not meet them.
“Funnily enough, I don't fancy eating slugs brain in a leech blood jus,” he remarked with a pinch of attitude. I could understand why: the diet of a Sorcerer Supreme wasn't something one would desire, however, it was what one would require.
“Not even on toast? You could just pretend it's avocado on toast: I’ve heard that's a trend sweeping through New York.” His face twitched slightly, almost as if it was about to light up but it faded as quick as it had appeared. I sighed. I had promised I would never cook for you again. I wasn't some kind of servant.
Without saying a word, I found myself readying him some breakfast. I could hear his protests from behind;
“Stop.” “I said no.” “Wong, I’m fine.”
Only when I felt his trembling hand fall upon my shoulder did I stop what I was doing and face him. I wanted to shout at the man, tell him to look after himself - then I wouldn't have to force him to eat meals. I couldn't though. With all that had been going on with magic recently, I knew he already had enough on his plate.
“It's okay. I wanted something to eat anyway. Eggs.” My voice came out a lot softer than I had intended and what shocked me most was just as I went to turn back around, his hand reached up and held my cheek. “No…” His hand dropped and he backed away, returning to where he was once sat.
His hand had been warm, slightly clammy from what I could only assume was nerves. If I was to listen to my heart, I would have allowed his hand to stay there and perhaps let it lead to something more. I dreamt of moments like these - small, tender acts that meant nothing to the world but everything to us. You could call it love: I did. Never aloud, though for that would give him the permission to try again. As much as I wanted Stephen, I always held him at a distance since I had been there to witness first hand how all his relationships ended. He could be selfish, naïve and above all else ungrateful. Despite all that, he was a kind man… Someone who didn't fear the unknown and always knew what was right, even if the path to it was questionable. I admired him. And yes, I loved him. Not enough to let him hurt me though. If I was to have one constant in my life, it wouldn't be him: it would be my pride.
Breakfast was quiet; the crunch of toasted bread being all that filled the room. Thankfully, Stephen ate all that was given to him and he didn't even gag which, to be fair, was a surprise given what he was putting in his mouth. Shakily putting his fork down, the sorcerer plucked the last crust of toast and waved it towards the floor and broke the silence:
“Ah, look who came to join us!” Out from the shadows walked a cat. He was a new addition who had only been with us for a month but both Stephen and I grew fond of the odd stray and decided to keep him on the grounds of he goes if he lays a single claw on any of the artefacts. So far, every item survived unscathed. Ziggy, as Stephen called him after Ziggy Stardust, could stay.
The day went by, both of us doing our own things - my hands busy cleaning out our endless bookshelf which had gathered an extraordinary amount of dust over the years. You see, there is in fact a spell to rid the place of dust but it disturbs the Sanctum’s energy and honestly… Sorting out the library was therapeutic for me. Such a meaningless task that would, in the long run, make things easier? I found it satisfying. If Stephen had his way, we'd be up to our knees wading in dust. Thankfully, he wasn't the boss: Sorcerer Supreme, he may be, but I am his equal when it comes to living arrangements. Many people suspected otherwise - even going as far to call me his ‘man-servant’. I’m not. I serve the sorcerer supreme in a mystic sense, but I most certainly don't clean the arrogant idiot’s dirty underwear. I have my own stuff to deal with.
Just as I was about to leave the library and retire to bed, a slither of paper peeking out the top of a book caught my eye. Neither of us particularly used bookmarks and it looked as though something was written on it in blue ink. Never did like blue ink, it looks far too messy and it's an odd contrast to white paper. Pulling the book off the shelf, I pursed my lips together and blew away a layer of dust to reveal the title: Dreams of The Dreaded. It meant nothing to me at first, but once I opened to the marked page, I could only sigh in disappointment.
Written in beautiful cursive was ‘Stephen x’. I knew exactly who wrote this for I lived alongside her for a number of years. The woman who held Stephen’s heart; his ex-wife Clea. I’m not someone to succumb to jealousy, however, I’d be branded a liar if I didn't admit that for all those years, I had always wished I was her. There was no grudge between Clea and I - only a silent desire on my part. That was why I didn't unfold the paper and instead went off to find Strange in his room, hands behind him as he gazed out the window. Shirtless, as he usually was in the late evening. He knew I had arrived before I even breathed a word.
“Wong… I must apologise for this morning. You see, I managed to get things confused--" I cut him off before he had a chance to explain more. I didn't want an apology. I should have been the one apologising.
“Nevermind. It's forgotten; all in the past. Talking of the past though…” I walked over beside him and passed the letter over while looking out onto the street like he had been. “It's from Clea. I haven't read it, don't worry.” I lingered, glancing over to look at him in the dim lighting, shadows lining every muscle of his body, the hairs on his chest moving slightlt as he breathed. I could not give into temptation though, it was for my own good. “I’ll leave you to read it in peace. Goodnight, Stephen.”
I left the room, faintly hearing him call goodnight to me in return as I shut the door, eyes closed and forehead leaning against the cool wood once I was out of view. For years, I had lived like this but I didn't know how much longer I could continue like it.