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The first time Stephen sees you, the rain is bearing down mercilessly upon the heart of the city. Enormous puddles paint the path ahead of him and he cringes at the sight of muddy waters on his very fine shoes, but that soon is forgotten when he spots you right across the street from where he is.
You’re soaking wet and water droplets seem to adorn every inch of your exposed skin for you’re too lightly dressed for the day. Far too lightly and that, coupled with the pouring rain, is probably why you’re shivering in the tiny bus stop where you’ve found some sort of shelter.
The rest of the world is quickly disappearing inside the various pubs and bars in the neighborhood, while some others return to their homes but you remain put - sitting quite miserably on the half-dry bench with your hands buried inside the pockets of your coat and your legs crossed to protect your bare skin from all the cold. He can’t see your face that clear from where he stands but he can tell you’re young and he can tell you’re freezing.
A couple years ago, he would have ignored you - simple as that. He’d barely spare you a glance before he quickly rushed to the hospital for yet another shift way overdue his schedule. Or maybe he’d actually notice you somehow despite the darkness, pay some mind to the beauty of you and the expanse of your legs that seem to glisten under the moonlight.
But not today.
Today his full attention is on you and before he can register any of his actions, his feet have dragged him to you. Suddenly he’s standing behind you with hands more trembling than ever because this is going to sound weird. And it does.
“Can I help you?” his tone is calm and smooth, unlike his racing heart when you turn to look at him and his very breath hitches in his throat.
You can barely make out the man’s features with so dim a light and despite his more-than-decent appearance, you try your best to shriek away from the tall figure looming over you. Freaks can be well-dressed too and even if he’s not some cold blood murderer trying to lure you into some dark alley, you don’t trust his intentions too much.
You mutter a ‘no, thank you’ under your breath and immediately reach for your phone in feign interest - anything to make him realize you’re definitely not up for whatever he might have in mind.
“It seems like the bus is going to take a while and-” you cut him off before he can even finish his sentence, your lovely voice laced with determination any woman would envy when it comes to standing their ground.
“I’m sorry, but whatever it is you’re trying to do here, I have to tell you; I’m not interested.” there’s a small smile etched on your lips but it doesn’t look all that natural and Stephen knows right then that you’re one of those people.
The ones that smile all the time wide enough for a picture but unless it is honest, weakish grins is all they have to offer. He quite likes this honesty - it seems so refreshing, yet at the same time, it sparks his curiosity to know what your true smile looks like.
It must be gorgeous, he thinks.
Stephen chuckles a little and shifts quite uncomfortably in his stance, holding the blue-black umbrella over your head to shield you even from the tiniest of drops that manage to leak through the paper-thin ceiling.
“I know it must look quite suspicious but my umbrella is all I’m offering here. The weather’s supposed to get better this weekend, it’d be a shame for you to spend it sick and trapped inside.”
You raise a suspicious eyebrow at him, locking your gazes ever so hesitantly, only to quickly get lost in the blue of his eyes. It’s perfection, you’re sure and they seem to pull you in like some invincible force but all that shines isn’t gold, you remember.
“Just the umbrella?” your voice is laced with the hint of a smile this time and he certainly hopes this means he’s convinced you.
He smirks, “Just the umbrella.”
But in the end, he ends up spending a good twenty minutes with you at that bus stop while you laugh at his terrible jokes and grace him with plenty of smiles that he can’t get out of his head the next morning. Or the morning after, or the one after that.
You’re all he can think for the next couple days but his finger only dares to hover over the ‘call’ button - never making it past that phase. It’s all so simple. All it takes is a call and then he’ll hear your voice again and all the screams inside his head will quiet. But he never presses that button and all he does is stare at your number that’s stored in his contacts. He’s practically memorized it by now.
So on that particular day when his phone starts to ring all of the sudden and it’s that very number, he sees on the caller ID, the mug filled with coffee slips from his hold and he’s shaking - more than he should anyways.
He answers and on that same day, you’re out for coffee, a suggestion of yours he accepts despite the fact that he’s already had about five cups that day.
Then it’s a drink at a nearby bar and both of you are tipsy, but still far from drunk. Stephen nods to the barman to let him know you won’t be drinking more and soon he’s walking you home with the biggest of grins plastered on his face and his dimples threatening to tear his cheeks open should he smile any wider.
It’s so unlike him, the stoic Dr Strange. The one that couldn’t date for lack of time and selfless behaviour. The one that wouldn’t be spending his night with a hand woven tightly with yours and your shoulders grazing ever so lightly as you’re walking. This is another side of him but he likes it.
Months go by like they’re seconds and next thing he knows there’s a bag of your clothes always left in his house and he loves it. He rarely spends his night alone these days and every morning is graced with your presence.
Still, you’re all he can think about. It no longer matters if you’re with him or not for every second his mind is hopelessly lost in thoughts of you and all he’s feeling. He hasn’t said the words - not yet, but he’s sure that he feels them because how else can he ever explain this way you consume him?
He lets them dwell inside his chest for a while and their meaning only grows with each day of being with you. He notices things all the time and then ponders for hours when he’s laying in bed late at night and you’re sprawled out beside him - body barely covered by his thin cream white sheets.
He thinks about all that you’ve managed to change in his life within months. Things that even his training hadn’t managed to touch. Not in the least.
He thinks about how empty he’d feel should you leave know forever. He can barely remember a life without you. He could never go back to that.
And every time he thinks all these things, the words claw at his throat and ache to be released.
Throw in three more months and Stephen’s thoughts no longer orbit around those three little words, for there’s no need to. He’s already said them - plenty of times and in plenty of ways, whether it be through his words or his actions.
It’s a well-established thing between the two of you now.
Albeit it never loses its joy to hear you say them. ‘I love you’.
So yes, he no longer spends his hours scouring his mind for a way to let you know how much you mean to him. He’s already found it. It sits hidden in the drawer of his nightstand for now, just until the time is right.
He thinks about it now and then when self-doubt overwhelms him and he’s stuck in a non-ending circle of second-guessing himself. What your reaction would be should he ask you, right now at this very moment. Would you answer him right away or would you take your time to think about it further?
Would you like the diamond’s cut or would you hate it? He was sure he found the one the moment his gaze landed on it - just as he was sure you were the one when he first saw you. It was love at first sight in both cases and he couldn’t help but think it was fate. This must be the right ring.
But most importantly, the question that plagues him every day.
Would it be a yes or a no?
The doctor asks himself that all the time. Things are good between the two of you - very good. He started falling that night at the small bus stop but it seems he hasn’t stopped since. He’s still falling all the more in love with you and he’d like to think you feel the same. That’s what it looks like at least.
When you shower him with love and pure affection, how can he doubt the adoration you have for him? Therefore he tells himself that yes, this is right. And so, he waits until the time has come for him to pop the question.
“Steph, can I ask you a question?” your voice is a whisper in the silence of the room since you feel sort of guilty for disrupting such a tranquil moment.
You don’t get those very often.
He only hums in response, but the arm around your waist pulls you closer until you collide with his chest and settle there.
“You can look into different universes, can’t you?”
It’s such an innocent question, so childlike and pure coming from your lips while you look at him with doe-like eyes full of curiosity. It makes him smile.
“That would be an oversimplification, but yes. I suppose I do.”
You smirk at his tendency to correct you and how much it’s worn out with time. There’s still bits of the old doctor in there but he buries them deep when he’s with you. When he’s here, he’s your Steph. It’s quite simple.
“Do you think there’s another universe where we’re together?”
“Why does it matter? We’re together in this one.”
You shrug and lift your hand to trace lines on his face. “I think it’s quite a nice thought… that there’s another you and me out there somewhere.”
“It certainly is, although you should rest assured that whatever universe we ended up in, I would always find you.”
You can’t help but smile at the cheesy side of this lovely man that’s come such a long way from what he once was, yet fail to grasp entirely the honesty hiding behind the man’s words.
Whatever universe you ended up in, he would find you, because it seems entirely unlikely that some version of him out there could ever live without you - however unworthy of your love as he might be.
So on that very night, he makes sure he won’t lose you in this one. His hand reaches for the drawer on his right and needless to say, the morning after that is spent enjoying breakfast and making love at the crack of dawn.
When every battle is lost and Stephen’s fading to nothing but dust, you’re all he thinks about, still. His mind travels to all sorts of notions of you and the things he loves most about you - everything, that is.
He thinks of every early morning spent with you in his arms so peacefully, despite the smell of burnt breakfast that flows in the air. He thinks about your smile when a joyous ‘yes’ was your answer or the simpler things, like how beautiful you look when you’re brushing your teeth next to him in the mirror.
He tries to think back to the sounds that you make when he worships his body at night and what your voice sounds like when you say you love him.
But lastly, he thinks about lies ahead. He’s not sure he wants to know, but he’s rather certain by now that all there will be is a void where he’s going next. A lifeless, black space with you nowhere in sight and his heart oh so empty.
The possibility that you might join him crosses his mind but as much as he’d like to have you with him, the mere thought seems selfish. He’d rather have you alive and well, here in this world, as much as it pains him to leave you.
And with that thought, he goes and dissolves into nothing.