You had visited the Sokovia memorial a few days prior, but today was the actual anniversary of the Battle of Sokovia, and of the death of his family. You woke up before him and went to the kitchen to prepare him breakfast. You knew how he got when the day rolled around, and you had to remind him to eat in the week surrounding the anniversary.
You prepared his favourite tea for him, and made some simple eggs on toast. He ate few and far between during this time, and you knew a big lavish meal would go wasted, so you opt for several small things throughout the day. While you wait for the eggs to cook, you move to set the memorial up.
You keep the box of things tucked in one of the chests of drawers in your spare room. You bring the box to the mantlepiece, and get each object out. First there is the photo of Zemo and his wife, their son, and Zemo’s father. You look lovingly at the photo, placing it gently on the mantlepiece. Whenever you see the photo, it always takes you aback how much his son looked like him. Next you bring out the spinning top that belonged to his son, and a necklace that belonged to his wife, as well as both their wedding rings. After that, a pocket watch that his father gave him when he was a boy. Then lastly, you brought the candles out and lit them on either side of the memorial.
You finish up breakfast, plate it up and quietly bring the tray up to your bedroom, placing it on your side of the bed while Zemo is still asleep.
You move over to the record player in the corner of your bedroom, getting out the old Sokovian music you kept tucked away ready for this day. You put the record on and place the needle carefully, and the music floats into the air of your bedroom. The first song on the record is the one Zemo and his wife had danced to at their wedding. Then you open the balcony doors and let some of the morning light in. You and Zemo live in a small town outside of Munich, where there is little disturbance from the outside world, so the only noise you hear from outside are birds chirping.
You get into bed and gently wake Zemo up. He smiles as he hears the familiar tune playing, taking a second to just listen to it before sitting up. You place the tray in his lap, and he catches your hands, bringing them to his lips to press kisses to your knuckles.
“Thank you, mīļā.” his eyes are glossed over and there is a solemn smile on his face.
“You don’t have to thank me, Helmut.” you smile and pull your hands from his grip, nudging him to eat.
Zemo eats without complaint, and you smile, taking that as a good sign for the day ahead. Once he finishes, he takes the tray and places it on the ground, laying down again and pulling you to him for a while. You wrap your arm around him and let him hold you for as long as he needs, wiping any stray tears that fall across his cheeks.
When the record player stops, you move to go play another record, but Zemo stops you, and stands himself. You assume he’ll just reset the needle and let the record play over, but you watch him remove the vinyl and place it back in it’s sleeve gently before shuffling through the shelf of vinyls. Picking one, he keeps it obscured from your view as he places it on the turntable and drops the needle.
From the opening notes, you realise he’s now playing the song you danced to at your own wedding. This is new, you think. Adding a new memory to the day filled with honouring old ones. He turns to face you, holding his arms out to you with a soft smile. You immediately jump out of bed and envelop him, softly swaying together to the song.
“I love you.” he murmurs into your hair.
You repeat the sentiment and keep dancing until the song finishes. Zemo plays it again, for good measure, pulling you back to him once more. When it finishes this time, he puts the vinyl back in it’s sleeve, and back on the shelf, closing the record player.
“I’ve set the memorial up, my love.” you lean up and kiss his cheek.
He thanks you, and you go to take a shower to give him some time alone with the memorial. He has told you before you don’t have to leave him, but you feel it’s only right to give him that time alone. He has the rest of the day to spend honouring his family with you, he should have something for himself too.
When you emerge from your shower, he is sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the mantlepiece, holding the photo in his hands. Once he notices you, he beckons you over, and you join him on the floor.
“…I was telling her how wonderful you’ve been to me.” he speaks softly, and you can tell he’s been crying, and you can’t help but tear up, both at his words and the sound of his voice.
“I know she’s looking down at us, and that she’s happy I found you. She wouldn’t want me moping.” a broken chuckle escapes his lips, and you reach out to put your hand on his leg.
You both sit in a comfortable quiet for a minute before Zemo clears his throat and stands up, putting the photo back on the mantlepiece. He leans down to place a kiss on your forehead before going to take a shower himself.
You look up at the memorial on the mantlepiece and you spend a minute talking too. You tell her how much Zemo misses her, and how you promise to take good care of him. You tell his son how much Zemo talks about him, about how any little toy or sweet or animal reminds Zemo of him. And lastly, you tell Zemo’s father that he raised an incredible son, who you promise to always watch over.
You didn’t know, but Zemo hadn’t actually gotten far before you started speaking, and he loitered quietly, listening to everything you said. He was a mess while you spoke, and he didn’t quite know how, but he loved you even more than he thought possible in that moment. He wanted you to have that moment though, so he went off to the bathroom, not intending to let you know he’d overheard you.
On what was quite possibly to worst day of each year, the pain was ever so slightly eased by having you with him, and he’d be forever grateful to have you.