Pasquil

Phase One: The Debrief

        Codename Swallow was awoken at precisely 4:37 am and debriefed in her pajamas which, for the protection of her dignity, shall not be described. 

Her mission; to take down the boyband from the inside. 

        Codename Swallow was a seductress in all meanings of the word. She was not only beautiful, but could adapt into any single person that she pleased. 

She was a slippery one, a snake, if you will, and the best in the business. 

        Though at first, she thought the mission was a cosmic joke, she soon came to terms with how grave the situation was. If One Direction decided to run for government or commit crimes against humanity, or worse, attempt to change the way the world ran, the outcome would be disastrous mainly because they easily could do anything they wished. They had a following that consisted of nearly all the world, but more than that, their followers were more loyal than knights was to a king. 

        Codename Swallow was perhaps the greatest in espionage, and for her age, which was merely 19, she had accomplished more than the average spy had in their whole life. 

        She was both honored and disappointed to take on the job. So, packing what she could, she left her apartment and took a private plane to the club the five boys of One Direction would be at, according to her intel, after their concert in California. 

        She was, of course, equipped with all tools necessary to meet and seduce the boys, and had done quite an extensive amount of research on their likes and dislikes. 

Since the majority of the band seemed to be into blonds, she dyed her hair blond. 

        Codename Swallow donned a simple black dress that was neither too provocative nor too saintly and donned a pair of red heels as well as red lipstick. 

Codename Swallow gave herself a once over and smiled. 

“This is going to be easy,” she smirked into the mirror in front of her. 

Elsewhere:

        The boys of One Direction were by no means sick of each other. In fact, their feelings were quite the opposite. Brothers, not in blood, but in soul, they often told one another. However, as they were getting styled for their show that night, one boy found himself somewhat unhappy.

“Let me braid you hair, Lou!” Harry moaned.

It was hard to say no to those bright green eyes, but Louis Tomlinson had to decline, despite the kicked puppy look his friend shot him. He knew their management would not approve.

“Sorry Haz, but you know what the media will say.”

        This struck a nerve in Harry, it was painfully clear on his expressive face. Louis wanted nothing more than to hold him and apologize. But he wouldn’t. Harry’s jaw worked and he shrugged in defeat. Louis wanted to tell him, “don’t clench your jaw, it isn’t healthy,” but he said nothing. Harry’s hair had fallen into his eyes carelessly and Louis resisted the urge to tuck a few curls behind his ear. He couldn’t. 

“I don’t get why you care about what people think so much, Louis,” he said, his tone low and wonderful and everything Louis would never ever get tired of listening to. 

“It is what it is, mate.”

        Harry reached forward as if to touch Louis’ shoulder, but dropped his hand away before his fingers could graze him. Harry then backed away, turning from him, allowing Louis to watch his broad shoulders sag and his lean torso move side to side with each step. Harry was, undoubtably,  leaving to try and braid someone else’s hair, and Louis couldn’t help but watch his lanky figure fade away into the distance. 

        He then decided that was enough pining for one day and turned back to his mirror, running his fingers through his hair, squeezing his cheeks, trying to get some color into them. 

        It was known, though not mentioned, that as the days went on, Louis seemed to resemble a skeleton more and more. Liam had joked about it once, but Louis hadn’t found it to be that bloody funny, to be honest. 

        There was a lot of pressure and stress that was on him that the other boys wouldn’t understand. So many rumors he could never admit to, so many lies. 

        In a way, Louis felt rather ghostly. He sometimes found himself in a nostalgic mood and googled his factor audition. His, and Harry’s. He regarded the brightness that used to be in his eyes back then, the rosiness in his cheeks, the exuberance of simply being alive that was evident in the way he held himself. 

As he looked in the mirror, he saw none of that now. 

        Maybe, he thought with a grimace, that’s why Harry doesn’t love you anymore. Maybe, it’s because he fell in love with a person that didn’t exist anymore. 

“Shit, you’re not going to cry now, are you?” he asked himself aloud. 

Louis was glad the lads all had separate dressing rooms, for once. 

        He put on a smile that looked just as hollow as it felt and got up. The concert began in ten minutes. He needed to go get miked up.