A Thin Line ~ Larry Stylinson

Syco Studios

Hey! So like, this is just a filler chapter, also only just the beginning. The REAL fun begins after this hehe ^_^ They will be longer, as well. Ps. I'd love some feeeeedback :3 -Shay xoxo

*Louis' POV*

Tu-tu-tu, tu-tu tu tu tu tu. 

I awoke to the dreaded sound of the alarm on my iPhone. That sound always meant I had to get out of my warm bed, and so I hated it.

Eyes continually closed, I reached my hand out to the table on the side of the bed and grabbed the sleek, rectangular object I knew to be my phone. Holding it up to my face, I peeked at the time it read, squinting due to the abrupt source of bright light facing my tired eyes. 

I let my phone fall onto my stomach as I processed the time and henceforth debated how to proceed. 

It normally depended on the time I wake up. It was 11:53am. 

It was a millisecond before this sunk in that I remembered. I was late. I had a task I was given that started today and I had to hurry up now.

Forcing myself up off the bed, I heaved my body to the bathroom.

* * *

I examined myself in the floor-length mirror, eyes swiping over my bold choice of ensemble.  

I was clad in a stripy tee paired with bright red chinos and my favourite, matching VANs.

I had to look presentable if I was going to be meeting One Direction today. I was supposed to try and get into the four-piece band's inner circle, gaining the ability to access updates, news and information worthy of being scandalous gossip, which I would then reveal to my boss, Carter to leak in Spotted Brit, giving us a reputation of the most well-informed and updated celebrity gossip agency.

It was a perfect win-lose. The boys of 1D not only losing their privacy but if I found some good stuff, their dignities.

Heaving a sigh, I made my way downstairs and went into the kitchen. Deciding it was too late for breakfast, I grabbed a granola bar and a Gatorade and headed out the door.

Walking through the chilly air of London, I kept an eye out for a sign of One Direction's studio. I'd been walking for what I assumed had been twenty minutes now. I had been given instructions to be there at 10am, and it was around two hours late.  

Maybe that was good, though. I might not have to go through the trouble of sneaking into the studio.

I heard the faint sound of my iPhone ringing from inside my pocket. Pulling it out, I read the caller ID, 'Carter Brown' and tapped the receive button, holding the phone up to my ear. 

"Louis?" The voice of my boss rang through the other side. "Yeh?" I replied. He was most probably just calling to ask about where I was. "Have you gotten into the studio yet?" He asked.  

I looked around me, their studio was just a few feet away, I was still making my way towards it. "Yeah yeah. I'm already in," I lied.  

"Ha! You've barely reached the studio, you're only walking towards it now!" He chuckled.

What?! He was absolutely right. He couldn't have had any knowledge of my location, I was the only Spotted Brit agent sent here. "How do you know that?" I asked in a startled voice. He just chuckled again.  

"I marked your wrist band," Carter told me. "You twat!" He jokingly added. "Huh?" I asked in utter confusion.  

"I attached a recorder, a microphone and a locator to the inside of your wrist band," He explained.  

"Oh well that should've been obvious!" I rolled my eyes. "You'll do amazing with the lads, mate. And I'm out!" Carter chirped in his oh-so-joyful voice just as he hung up.

"Yes, sir," I muttered, smiling as I realised the time I was on the phone with Carter, I had been standing outside Syco Studios.

I looked down at my bright yellow rubber wrist band, twisting it on my wrist and examining the objects Carter had had hidden on it, or in it, because they were completely out of sight.

I wore this band everyday, all of us at the agency did. It was given to us the day we had become a part of it and the band marked you as a member of Spotted Brit. It was this specific band because it was capable of holding and hiding any sort of spying tools, from tiny locators to microscopic video cameras, recorders, you name it.

I walked closer towards the simple cement building. The building was quite humble from the outside to make it indistinguishable and not an obvious world-famous recording studio.

It was still, however surrounded by jittery teenage girls waiting to meet the hottest guys in the UK and paparazzi desperate for pictures and updates from the boys. But wasn't I just the same?  

Only looking for ways into their circle for information. It was deceitful but who cares anyway? It's not like I know them so well.

The only thing I was to do was to get in, get info, get out. Just don't get attached. And by "get in" I meant in their lives, not just their studio.

I made my way through the small crowd of girls, some with neon posters in hand and finally reached the little black door that took you inside. It was just a plain door, with the logo of SYCO carved into it.

Standing by the door was a man in a plain black t-shirt and jeans with a name tag that read 'Paul Higgins.'

He was the "babysitter" I recalled. I'd done my research on these boys so I knew quite enough. I even had an excuse for getting in. I walked up to him and cleared my throat. "Erm...I'm here to assist Lou Teasdale, she's hired me for some time," I stated.  

Paul just gave me a curious look, then nodded at me and stepped aside to let me through.

I sucked in a deep breath and pushed open the door. "Here goes nothing," I said under my breath, taking a few steps inside.

The minute I walked in I was met by a long carpeted hallway. The walls on the sides were covered in framed pictures of different bands and artists posing next to Simon Cowell and artworks of every album ever recorded in this very studio.

There was a long line of doors along the hallway, each with a different name engraved on a yellow star that hung on the door.  

I came across some names like 'Little Mix,' 'Cher Lloyd,' and various others. I only stopped when I found the one labelled 'One Direction.'

I was about to go inside and had barely touched the doorknob when it twisted and the door flung open by itself.  

My eyebrows crinkled in confusion.  

Automatic doorknob, huh? That was what I thought, until I looked up. Standing in front of me was the much-too-familiar face of a boy.

Friendly green eyes, tousled chocolate brown curls, wide cheeky smile and the perfect dimples to go with it. "Hi, I'm Harry Styles."