Lincoln believed he was very confident in who he was, but still had this aching desire to be called pretty by someone. Hell, anyone. He was called many things, but never that magical word.
Finally, after a long time of searching everywhere, he finally heard the words, “You are pretty, Lincoln.” It put such a huge smile on his face.
He wished he could have hugged the man in the mirror who said it, but instead he wrapped his arms around himself. It might not be much, but it was a start.
He had to be the first to believe.