| completed (unedited) | "Why are you crying?" Louis asks the boy sitting on the bench, head in his hands. "Nobody likes my make up." The boy crys and looks up, mascara running. "I think you look very pretty with your makeup on." Louis smiles assuringly. "You really mean that?" The boy sniffles. "Are your lips a deep red?" "Yes." The boy says, remembering the red LA colors lipstick he put on this morning. "Then yes, I do mean it." Louis says.