Don't Stay Up All Night - L.S.

Chapter 2

"I don't understand why he would just run off," Louis ranted in a tame manner as the tailor wrapped the tape around his waist. "Did he not like me?"

The tailor took down the measurements, making sure they were written clearly. The pencil squeaked as it moved across the paper. Louis was getting a new outfit tailored. It was his father's orders and Louis could not refuse.

The tailor had his silver hair neatly parted and tied into a ponytail. Two round pieces of glass, framed in gold-coloured metal, balanced on the bridge of his nose.

"I don't know, your highness." The tailor said. "I could not think of a reason he would dislike you."

"Do you think I am too pampered?" Louis asked, hoping for an honest answer. "He said that I was a 'spoilt brat' and that I was up on a 'high horse'."

The tailor put a hand on his hip, balancing himself on one foot. "That sounds like a weak reason for someone to physically run away from you," the tailor said. He did not say whether Louis was spoilt or not but Louis got the idea. Sometimes avoiding the question was good enough of an answer.

"What if he really doesn't come to the party today, like Modeste had speculated?" Louis sighed.

"Haven't you learnt that Modeste is usually wrong?" The tailor shook his head. "Don't tell her I said this but I don't know why she has not been sacked yet."

Louis giggled at the gossip. Despite the age gap, Louis enjoyed the company of the royal tailor. Even when Louis was not getting fitted for new suits, he would come around to sit with the tailor as the tailor worked. He had been doing so since he was a little boy.

Louis was a restless child but he was always captivated by the tailor's stories. The tailor told tales he had compiled from working for all sorts of men and women from different parts of the world, young and old, rich and poor. He narrated stories of men battling pirates on the high seas and women, sneaking onto all-male battlefields. Louis had listened to the tailor's stories with his blue eyes bulging out of their sockets, cheering for the old man to repeat them after each narration. Eventually, Louis grew out of storytime but his friendship with the tailor never died.

"And if Modeste is right this time?" Louis asked.

"If Modeste is right, you could poke your head into every bakery, asking for the mysterious boy whose coat you ruined with chocolate fondue." The tailor teased.

The tailor finished measuring Louis up. "If you expect this boy to be here tonight, you might want to go pick out a nice outfit for the ball. I'll be here if you need any help." The tailor said as Louis left.

Louis wore a different jacket to the second ball, considering the jacket he wore previously was not with him. He surveyed the crowd. This time, Louis was looking out for a specific person.

People danced to live music. Many of the royals who had visited to attend the previous party but there were still hundreds of aristocrats who were present in the ballroom. Despite the decrease in attendance, the party was still extravagant and grand.

An hour passed. Louis bit his lip nervously. He tiptoed to get a better view of the people at the dance but none of them was whom he was looking for. Another hour passed, Louis grew more anxious. He bit his nails. It was a nervous habit Louis had, much to Modeste's disapproval. Modeste noticed his hand brought to his mouth and shot a glare at him. She stared in disfavour. Louis lowered his hands to his sides. By the third hour, Louis felt like giving up.

When Louis thought all hope had been lost, Modeste exacerbated his plight by clicking her tongue at him. "He isn't coming. I told you so." She said. Louis frowned, too disheartened to argue with her. He wanted to stuff his face with chocolate to put an end to his heartache but that would just remind him of the boy.