Welcome to the second and the last, sequel of Strawberry Milk .
______________________________________Louis always thought it was about finding that person who could say they love you and make you feel like nothing else has ever been more true.
It isn't.
(It’s about finding that person who can make you feel like a person. It’s about that inexplicable connection between your heart and your mind and that feeling you get when your eyes meet theirs and they smile at you.
It always has something to do with the eyes. The eyes, but evermore their eyes - because they don’t struggle to understand anything you do, instead, they already understand, sometimes, even without quite knowing yet. It’s about looking into each other’s eyes and just getting it right. There's a gentleness, a tenderness; it floats around in each sweet, sweet exchange of glances. Understanding each set of thoughts without actually knowing, and then accepting whatever follows. That’s the beauty of it.)
Louis and Zayn graduate the next year from University with their different degrees. It came quick, swept them out from under their feet. One minute they’re getting student refunds and blowing it on ridiculous things, dicking around on their skateboards and enjoying their boyfriends, and the next they’re stepping off campus without much of a reason to ever come back. It almost feels like they’re finally evolving into an official ‘adult;’ with no more classes, no more textbooks, and no more glorious, glorious student refunds. Fuck.
Graduation day is a flurry of tears and kisses, mums and way too many congratulations. They’re trapped in their gowns and hats, and Zayn is so shy and humble, smiling at his family and at Liam and his family. Louis on the other hand is fake yawning, rolling his eyes, and sticking his tongue out at his little sisters despite Harry and Jay’s scowling faces.
There are plenty of photos taken, one of Louis’ favourite ones costing him a twenty. But now he has this beautiful photo of Zayn in his gown and cap, and Liam on his knees underneath it. They refused to take the photo in front of their parents, but Louis already has plans to blow it up, frame it, and send it to their families for Christmas. Sentimental value and all.
(His real favourite photo, though, priceless, unexpected.
It was just him messing around with his mum’s camera, complaining about how he's ready to go out for dinner already and get the day over with. But all the families still chat and chat, busy being busy and Louis just looks like a child in a graduation costume.
So, his hip juts out, there’s a pout on his lips, and he is trying to figure out when cameras got so... complicated. But then Harry’s on the screen from the new angle Louis holds the lens at, and -
He’s lying in the green grass atop the hill where the graduation initially took place, knees bent. He’s in a light blue button down, except only the bottom three are actually buttoned up. His dark bow tie is tied around his wrist instead of his neck, his sleeves rolled up, and his black skinny jeans are cuffed at the bottom - and like, shit, does that make Louis hot and warm and fucking fond.
Harry’s feet are bare, toes curling into the grass, his pretty pink toe nails a soft contrast to the vibrant green. Then there is Daisy. Daisy who has Harry’s head in her lap, fingers in his curly hair that is mixed with daisies that she keeps tucking in the warm brown locks of his hair, her head is leaning over his. She is giggling loudly, teeth showing and a little dimple up by her nose, and Harry has his lips puckered in a kissy smile. Daisy keeps giggling and smiling and rubbing her nose against Harry’s as she tucks more flowers in his hair.
And Louis’ never felt so transparent.
Transparent because around them are hundreds of people, and dozens of families, and yet he is capturing such a tender and intimate moment, one that is truly sweet and private and now his too.