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Cole knows he's right and Y/N admits it
Cole's POV
"What are you doing?"
I watched as my girlfriend shot her head up to lock eyes with me. She was fiddling with her wigs.
Actually she looked like she was ready to cry.
"N-nothing. When did you get home?" she asked, tossing the H/C one away from her, it landing at the foot of the bed.
"KJ dropped me off a few minutes ago. Baby what were you doing? You look like your ready to cry," I spoke, crossing the room to get to the bed. I crawled onto the mattress to sit next to her.
She was looking at her bare hands, fiddling with her finger nails. Nervous tick.
"It's been a rough day."
I nodded, motioning for her to explain. I watched her shut her eyes, taking a long breath.
"You know that I've accepted that I have alopecia," she started and I stopped her, grabbing one of her hands which halted her picking. Nail polish, saved.
"You're beautiful baby."
She huffed, "Not what I was trying to say!"
I rolled my eyes, playfully groaning, "Continue."
"And you know I don't always wear them when I'm at home. I even post photos without them on. I've accepted it and I don't really care about the hate because I can't change it," she rambled, her left hand flying around as she talked.
I hummed to tell her I was listening. This isn't the first time she talked like this but she's never been this, well, serious before.
"Well, anyway, I was reading comments on my last Instagram post. The one of us on our balcony. You know the sunrise photo."
"Babe, you're rambling. Tell me what's going on in that head of yours," I whined, tossing myself against our pillows.
"The fans, they, uh, well. They kinda, god this is hard!"
"If they're being mean, ignore them. They aren't my real fans of they can't accept you. I love you for who you are, not for your hair—or lack there of. You know this babe. I love you," I said, knowing we've had this conversation many times.
