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The Dark Dimension looked exactly how Dormammu wanted it to be. Its vast, perpetual darkness was enough to look as beautiful as the sky during a calm night, but as terrifying as something that came out of a child's nightmare. Being an amalgamation of multiple unfortunate dimensions that were absorbed and conquered made it seem almost endless, and Stephen shivered upon the thought. The atmosphere held an eerie silence that was only disturbed by distant, undecipherable crackles of unseen creatures, something that made the hair on Stephen's nape bristle.
It was a place beyond time; a place beyond death. Just like how Kaecillius had described it.
He blew out a breath that stuttered as it went out of his mouth, the green magic circling his wrist rotating to signal the start of another time loop.
As his foot touched upon the ground once again, he felt the now-familiar presence of the cloak over his shoulder, and the warm glow of the Time Stone encased within the Eye. Both relics were his only source of hope and comfort, and he let himself rely on it to keep him alive. Well, mostly.
" Dormammu, I've come to bargain! " he yelled, the words now familiar in his lips after however many times he had used it.
And then orange, almost yellow sparks emitted from his hands as he conjured mandalas that formed a shield, which he knew would break sooner or later. He could hear his own heartbeat thrumming in his ears as he waited for the coming assault, for whatever was going to hit him next, but nothing came. Nothing happened. The cloak flapped in panic behind him, and Stephen was left confused at its reaction. It yanked him backwards, and Stephen yelped upon the sudden action. The shield in front of him dissipated into orange sparks, leaving him defenceless. He managed to catch himself before falling, and conjured the mandalas once again.
" Cloak, what are you– "
Then suddenly he became aware of everything. He was aware of his ragged breathing, of his elevated heart rate, of the ache in his limbs, and the ever-present tremor of his hands that seemed to shake even more. His own voice was distant, as if it weren't his own. Sweat was beading over his forehead, his vision was blurring out, and suddenly the darkness around him faded away like the wind rustling leaves off the ground. The mandalas in front of him stuttered, and before he knew it, it had disappeared without his intention for it to. His vision blurred then, everything turning into a mix of colours that made a feeling of dizziness crawl up his head.
He was aware of a voice – a familiar one, but how could there be anyone here? He was alone. It was dangerous, no one could possibly be here.
" –phen, y– "
No, there shouldn't be anyone here. He couldn't let anyone come here. Had they come to help him?
" –eed to– "
He didn't need help, it would only be a needless cause of harm, he needs to get them out of here.
" –alright? I– "
His eyes darted around in confusion. What was happening? Where was he again? Wasn't he fighting off… something? He couldn't remember, he couldn't think . Why was it so hard to breathe? Oh god, his head was spinning. It hurts–
" –ony, you– "
He can barely hear the voice filter through by the loud drum of his heartbeat in his ears, something was crawling up his throat and choking his airway, he needed to breathe –
" Snap out of it! "
He gasped, and the oxygen filling his lungs was a momentary relief when he suddenly realised how ragged and uncontrolled his breathing was. He realised a pair of arms were holding him around his waist, which kept him from collapsing as he staggered forward.
"Hey, Stephen, baby, come back to me. Come back to me, please. It's Tony. You're safe, you're here," the voice said in his ear.
Stephen looked around. They were in the kitchen, of all places. Why was there a blast on the cabinet? Why were the things on the countertop spread all over the floor?
His vision was still swimming, and the niggling feeling of something heavy in his chest hadn't dissipated. His knees buckled, and the way it hit the floor sent a spark of pain up his thighs. The arms were still around him, and he tried to remember how to breathe through his nose again.
"To– ony?" his voice croaked out through heaves of breath, "What– what happened?"
Tony pulled back from their embrace, looking him in the eye. The look on his face was one Stephen frequently saw – the one he used after Stephen came home injured, or when he had to go on another interdimensional 'trip', or when he had forgotten a meal after an especially busy day.
"Are you alright, Stephen?"
"I–" Stephen tried to answer, but he couldn't seem to get the words out of his throat. "I don't know," he said instead. His head dropped down, eyes cast to the floor underneath them. This time, the blurriness came from the tears that gathered in his eyes.
"Breath, honey, breath," Tony started breathing rhythmically, and Stephen tried to follow. "In, out, in, out, in…"
He closed his eyes shut, following the pace Tony had set. It took a while, but a moment later, he felt his breathing finally settling down.
A hand gently laid itself atop his trembling ones, and a finger pushed his chin up to meet warm brown eyes. "There you are," Tony spoke softly, "you were gone for a bit back there." And then he smiled. It was a soft, almost pained one, something Stephen didn't have the heart to look at for long. He turned his head to the side, and Tony's eyes followed.
"Did I do that?" he asked, looking at the mess over the kitchen.
Tony stayed silent for a moment, and then hummed.
"Don't worry, I'll get it cleaned up." Tony said, and Stephen's teary eyes darted to look at him.
It started with a sniff, and then a sob slipped out of his lips without his permission. There it was again, and again, again, and Stephen didn't think he could stop it. Not now, not when the dam finally broke. Not when he had kept it in for far too long.
A hand settled atop his head, gently carding through his hair. The cloak, which he hadn't realised had been cradling him from behind this whole time, tightened itself along his torso, its lapels lifting to wipe away a tear or two. The sobs kept coming, uncontrollable at that point, and he almost felt embarrassed at his state.
"It's okay, Stephen. Let it all out," Tony whispered. "It's okay,"
"It's not okay," he sobbed out, and his trembling hands came up to cover his face.
"No… but it is what it is." Tony slid his hand over his back, rubbing soothing circles over it, "And we'll get through it," Tony said, "together."