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Wong’s first name was Jin Hun, not that Strange had ever bothered to ask. He had a father and mother who didn’t really approve of his career choices, and a little sister who was an engineer in Bintulu. Strange had known him for some time and had not asked about any of this, but Wong didn’t really mind. The less these superheroes knew about him the better–the less likely it would be for their many and varied enemies to track him down and torture him for information. That sort of behaviour was usually reserved for Loved Ones of the Main Character, so Wong was personally fine with being vaguely relegated to Sort-Of Sidekick.
When he came back to find the multiverse opened–possibly? probably? because of the spell, against his express instructions–his first thought was Ah fuck. His second was Shit’s going to hit the fan.
He called his mom right away. “Ma,” he said. “You know about your flight here next week?”
“What is it,” his mother said flatly. It was a twelve hour difference, so it was 10 am in Malaysia. She had probably been tending to her garden: leveling the hose carefully over her chilli plants, inspecting her lilies. Wong felt a sudden stab of guilt over this intrusion into her peaceful routine.
His mother repeated herself. “What is it? Ah boy?”
“Um, nothing much,” he said, loath to worry her, but at the same time realising she should be at least some level of in the know, now that everything was about to go down. “It’s just, maybe we can reschedule the visit?”
She tsked. “Not easy to reschedule you know,” she said. “I chose the flight date properly one. Cheap but no room for refunds.”
“Might be better to stay away from New York for the time being,” he said delicately. "Should be okay staying back home."
His mother took a breath and released it in a furious rush. “What did that angmoh do now!”
“Ah, Ma…”
“Don’t you ah, ma me,” his mother said stoutly. “He play with reality again ha? Open some portal to who knows where. Aliens coming in again isit!”
“Ma, you know,” Wong said fairly, “I don’t think that was his fault last time.”
“Boy,” his mother said, unheeding, “if you listened to me and your Pa you would be safe at home right now. Malaysia got its own problems but none of that alien-UFO nonsense.”
Wong breathed in, counted, and breathed out, like his therapist had taught him. “Yes Ma.”
“Aiyo, if you only listened to your Pa.” His mother sighed. He could tell she was shaking her head. “You could be doing ACCA now. Safe. Stable job. Steady income. But you donwan to listen. You want to play with magic.”
Play with magic. His mother was on a roll. “It’s not–”
“Master of Mystic Arts? That’s not a real Masters. Hasmah’s son is doing his PhD now, you know? But my son ran off to America. To play with magic. Now you complain for what?”
“I’m not complaining,” Wong said as patiently as he could manage. He stared at the heavy doors of the Sanctum, wishing he was out in the New York sun right now. He would even take a mid-level villain from an alternate universe if it meant his mother could end a call without bemoaning the career he could have had. “I’m just saying we should reschedule the trip. I’ll pay for the new flight tickets.”
“Oh, so now you made of money?” His mother was really getting into it today. “You rich isit? You got ask that angmoh for a raise already?”
“He’s a bit busy now Ma.”
His mother didn't miss a beat. “Busy causing trouble.”
Wong couldn’t argue with this. “Ma, I need to go soon, I need to help him figure out how to fix this.”
There was a pause, then: “You do all his work,” his mother sniffed. “Better ask him for a raise later.”
Wong smiled a bit at this. “Okay. I will.”
His mother sighed. “You do that, boy.” Wong could imagine her, smoothing out the cotton of her sundress, wondering what to do with this runaway child so far away across the world. He missed her with a sudden and breathtaking abruptness. “Call your Pa once in a while can or not?”
“Can,” Wong agreed.
“Okay,” his mother said, mollified all of a sudden. “Eat properly. We’ll send you money if you don’t have enough.” She hung up.
His mother didn’t say things like Take care of yourself and I love you. In the same vein, Wong didn’t say something like Sometimes I really wish I was back home right now eating bak kut teh with you instead of being in life-threatening fights weekly to save the world, it might even be worth taking the ACCA.
In the same vein, he didn’t tell Strange about his family back home, because if keeping himself firmly in Side Character territory meant he kept himself and by extension, them, safe, he’d keep that distance. These things–I love you Ma. I wish I was back home with you sometimes. I have parents who love me but don’t really approve of my career choices, and a little sister I'm very proud of–all true, all part of Wong. All too important to be spoken out loud.