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It took only three days for Stephen to know that death was coming for him. It was less than an hour after he learned of his coming death that he went to Kamar-taj. He spoke with the Masters and inquired about any with potential he could take on as an apprentice. They had been surprised at his apparent change of heart until he spoke of how much help they could be for him about the Sanctum, picking up the day-to-day slack caused by his hands. He had been both happy that they had so easily taken his lie and hateful of himself for still appearing so selfish.
The day had begun like any other. He and Wong rose early to check in on various other dimensions before settling down for a nice breakfast. It had been Wong’s turn to make breakfast and the omelette had been divine, he had made sure to tell Wong so and had internally delighted at the tiny smile he had received for it. Afterwards, Stephen had cleaned up while Wong checked in at Kamar-taj and then they went to the library to continue their research of just where the last dimensional nuisance had arrived from. Both were sick of getting covered in slime as the creature had want to do as a way of saying thanks when they gave them their food for the day.
The first difference that Stephen had noted in hindsight was that he had found himself distracted by the shift of light upon Wong’s features as it slanted down from the high windows. Had wondered if the shade of color Wong had been cast in had a name, it had been such a beautiful sight. Stephen had jumped when those bronze eyes had turned to him to offer a possible solution from the book they had been reading. Stephen had stood at Wong’s approach with the open tome and felt as though the room had gotten warmer despite standing in the shade.
He had placed a hand upon the page to trace the incantation and its runes when Wong had pointed at something further down the page. Their fingers had brushed in a second that had seemed infinite as Stephen’s heart skipped a beat loudly in his ear. He had been thankful to be looking down as heat bloomed upon his cheeks, and when Wong left to gather the needed materials, Stephen sat. He sat and pressed cool hands to his cheeks and turned over in his mind the knowledge he had gained in that second.
He was in love with Wong.
That single second had been the final mark upon his fate. For it was with his entire soul that he had fallen. There would be no other to fit within his heart.
But only hours later did this bring down the final tolls of death’s decision that he would die.
Lunch had been taken up with returning their guest to their proper dimension and leaving both of them positively drenched in purple slime and smelling like strawberries. They eyed each other with relief and irritation. And in Stephen’s case a rising blush, that was hidden by the slime, as his brain sent up a thought to share a shower. But Wong, simply sighed and walked away before Stephen could get his brain back in order.
Stephen’s shower lasted nearly an hour as his hands and traitorous thoughts proved difficult. When he was at last clean he redressed in the nicest robes he, well not owned, had been given by Kamar-taj and carefully evaluated his hair and goatee. Wong glanced at his dress in curiosity but did not say anything as he returned to the library to clean up their research efforts. Stephen began to help, but after the first dropped book Wong shooed him out for making a greater mess. Stephen wandered to the large mirror in the hall and considered himself carefully, trying to imagine if Wong would find him handsome. The quiet man was still so unknown to Stephen. He knew how the man took his tea, his favorite food, his favorite robe, but not where he had grown up or even if he had siblings.
He was jolted from his downward spiraling thoughts by the front door closing and he remembered the notification they had received that morning. Wong had left to get a parcel from the P.O. box they had rented to keep disturbances to a minimum and so Stephen went to the kitchen. He was armed with a cookbook and every bit of memory of his mother puttering around his distant past. It was his turn to make dinner and he would make it grand, grand enough to lend an extra measure of sincerity to the words he was so anxious to speak.
Salmon simmered softly on the pan as rice softened within the pot. The table was set, a candle lit, and a bottle of wine breathing upon the counter. His nerves had him staring into the great oven as the timer ticked down; pulling the pan out before it rang and placing it upon the counter to cool. A shift in the air told him that Wong had returned and he nearly skipped from the room as he went to meet him at the door.
It was a soft voice, far too silky and high to be Wong that stilled his steps. He clutched the doorway as he watched Wong place a kiss upon the perfect, manicured fingers and said, Tomorrow, I will pick you up for a real date, my dear. You shall remain in my thoughts until then. The woman’s answering giggle was blurred by Stephen’s tears as he staggered back with a hand clasped to his lips. The oven’s timer beeped a long note and Stephen coughed as he rushed back to the kitchen to silence it.
It was two days later as Stephen watched Wong primp before the large mirror in the hall that Stephen coughed his first petal. It clung to his tongue as he struggled to muffle himself, waving off Wong’s concerned look as he went to the kitchen. He filled a glass from the tap and listened for the front door to close before he reached for the item on his tongue.
It was a single long petal, he didn’t even need a book to tell him what flower it was, the simple daisy petal was easily found in his memory. Days long in the past of running through the large fields of his family’s farm and picking some for his mother. Another cough gave him two more and he went to the library to find out why he would be coughing up flower petals. It was the seventh book of magical illnesses that gave him his answer.
Hanahaki disease- The illness is born of unrequited love and is characterized by its sufferers coughing or throwing up flower petals. Hanahaki disease can be treated either by the one they love returning that love or by surgery to remove the flowers. It is important to note that surgical removal of the flowers will result in the sufferer being unable to ever experience any type of love again, this includes familial and platonic forms of love.
The infection if unchecked will slowly suffocate the sufferer with flower petals and blood. Blood only appears during coughs the last week of the sufferers life; for not even surgery or a return of their love will save them then.
Stephen closed the book slowly and sat in silence. In a calm too deep to be comforting, Stephen rose and returned the medical books to their shelf and took down a book of flower meanings. Asteraceae or Compositae (commonly referred to as the daisy) represents loyal love, purity, faith, and simplicity. The petals he still held were placed carefully on the entry as Stephen closed the book, replacing it on the shelf as he had the others. He turned from the shelf and left for Kamar-Taj. He needed to get his affairs in order.
Despite the pain deep in his lungs, Stephen was thankful for his slow decline. He got to watch the one he loved experience their own deep abiding love. Watched as Wong grew somehow brighter to Stephen’s eyes as his joy increased. And when Wong went before the Sorcerer Supreme to be free of his duties to marry his love, Stephen was filled with a wet joy as he freed Wong from his oaths.
Petals covered the floor of the Sanctum like snow when Wong moved out. Wong had been concerned by Stephen’s persistent cough but his mind was soothed by the presence of Stephen’s apprentice at the Sanctum to care for him. At last the wedding day dawned bright and sunny, Stephen covering the blood on his handkerchief as he smiled by Wong’s side as the vows were given. Stephen had no doubts that Wong and Imei’s love would last long after his death had faded from memory.
It was a grey day that hardly lightened the sky as his final week ended.
Stephen Strange died alone in the large foyer of the New York Sanctum. His apprentice having run to Kamar-Taj and leaving him on the floor to drown in blood and pale daisy petals.
...
..
.
But no longer. For now it was that Wong had at last been selfish. Had taken the great relic as the other Masters fought to stop him, and turned back the clock. He took back every painful breath, every petal that had fallen, and every moment of terrible ignorance.
Now, it would not be the simple and pleasant company of Imei that took up his time, but the enduring and deep love he had observed from afar, from Stephen. Every delicate blush upon those cheeks was cherished, every touch and caress stamped into his memory. And when some dark nights he awoke, with the shivers of sweat, he told Stephen it was merely a bad dream and not a terrible memory.
Never again would he cast aside the man who loved him so deeply as to accept death than take a moment of happiness from him. As years passed, his own mortal memory brought peace through forgetfulness of anything but the joy of his loving husband.
Til death takes them.