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“You know,” Wong said, voice penetrating Stephen’s concentration. “He can’t build new memories of you if you’re never with him.”
Stephen glanced up from the book he was scouring on memory restoration. “Tony’s on a business trip,” Stephen said. “I’m not abandoning him.”
Stephen could feel Wong’s judgment.
“Because I’ve never had to call you away from Tony’s hotel room,” Wong pointed out. “Or found you both napping in the Sanctum during the day after you portaled him into the Sanctum during his temporary timezone’s night shift?”
“I always fulfilled my responsibilities,” Stephen defended.
“I know,” Wong said, voice calm. “I’ve never protested. You’ve both always been certain to ensure your priorities are in line with the betterment of our world.” Wong sighed, taking the seat across from Stephen. “His memories are gone, Stephen.”
Stephen flinched. “Wong—”
“But that does not mean his love is,” Wong continued.
Stephen ached. “How can he love me if he doesn’t remember me?”
“Have you given him the chance?” Wong asked. “Or are you so ashamed, so guilt-ridden, that you won’t try?”
“That’s not—”
Wong switched tactics. “Stephen, he doesn’t remember loving you, true. But he doesn’t remember you loving him either.”
Stephen startled.
“Help him make sense of this new reality,” Wong continued. “Whether he remembers it or not, he knows he loves you; the fact that he lost his memories is testament to that love. But he needs a testament that you love him, too.”
Stephen stared, trying to make sense of that. “You’re right,” he said. He glanced at the books, he wasn’t giving up on finding an answer. But for now… “I’m taking an afternoon nap,” he declared. Tony would be going to bed, soon. If Stephen was lucky, maybe Tony would let Stephen join him. He could read, later.