Young & Beautiful

He should have known that a picnic with Zayn and Liam was less of a ‘blanket on the ground’
and more of a ‘white bistro tables and salmon tablecloths with wine and chocolates and violins.’
And let’s not forget the piano.
“You brought a fucking piano? You actually called someone to deliver a piano to your picnic?”
Louis questions, disbelief bugging his eyes.
“Of course! Every picnic needs a piano!” Liam laughs.
Zayn’s own pressed grin admires Louis. “Do you play?” he asks mildly.
“Not even a little bit. Niall tried to teach me but it didn’t do anything but piss me off.”
“Do you sing? Zayn’s classically trained,” Liam gushes, smiling over at him like he’s the sun.
“Are you now?” Louis asks, genuinely intrigued. “That’s brill! I’ve always wanted to sing.”
“We’ll make a night of it!” Liam exclaims happily.
“He sings, too,” Zayn says by way of explanation. “A lot.”
“Not that much,” Liam protests. “Just when the opportunity arises. Now. Can we get you
anything to drink Louis? Please, take a seat.”
Louis obliges as he takes in his surroundings. It’s a beautiful clearing by a lake, the grass green
and soft, wildflowers peppering the landscape. There are soft willows grazing in the wind, ivy
twining up the trunks, and the soothing sound of water licking at rocks blends perfectly with the
violinists.
It feels alarmingly like a wedding.
It’s a gorgeous place, though. They drove there, Zayn taking out that antique car that Louis had
seen on that first day he’d arrived (and he feels the tiniest big smug about being right—he knew it
was them in that car; he also realizes with a hit of annoyance that the curly head that had been
laughing in the back, balancing on the top of the seats and thrusting the champagne? Yeah, that
was Harry, of fucking course, but he’s not thinking about him right now if he doesn’t have to) and
it’s a ways from school, but not incredibly far, tucked enough away that it feels private and
different.
“Have some wine. And a cigar,” Liam offers, taking the seat next to him.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Louis says, smiling sunnily up at the gentleman pouring his glass as Zayn
slides him a thick, meaty cigar that costs more than his shoes.
**
With the warm breeze ruffling his hair, the undertones of cigar smoke permeating the smell of
blossoms and cheese, and the sunlight that catches on his eyelashes and throws prisms off of the
crystal, speckling the world with rainbow droplets, Louis finds himself falling in love with the
way Zayn Malik holds social gatherings.
And, okay, maybe he understands the dress code now-- the various blues of their outfits
compliment the grass and sky perfectly, brightening the atmosphere and providing for perfect
pictures.