Jack shook his head, refusing to wake up.
"Jack, cmon honey, wake up," he heard a familiar voice say. He must have gotten drunk, as he could not seem to open his eyes or sit up properly.
"One moment," Jack groaned.
"Since when do you talk to your baby daddy that way? Cmon, eat breakfast, its your favorite."
Instantly, Jack wasn't so tipsy anymore. He sprung from his bed, and saw Cole, rubbing his belly. Cole was peering over him, tracing his fingers along his face.
"Cole, what, get off. COLE."
"Yes baby?"
"What the... why are you.. Cole. No. This can't be..." Jack slurred his words, he was in disbelief.
"Oh silly, I know! It's crazy, its already been eight months. Just one month left! Isn't this exciting! Oh and we still haven't decided on a name... I thought, maybe, Levar would be a suiting name," Cole hummed as he set aside a plate of eggs and carrots.
Once again, Jack shook his head. This time, he was awake. He looked around. He was exactly where he should be, in his hotel room, with a SEPARATE bed from Cole, and Cole was not pregnant.
But something was off.
"Jesus Jack, you're finally awake. We don't have fucking time. We have a month left," Cole slammed a heavy stack of documents onto the table. A month? For what? A MONTH? Was Cole actually pregnant?
"A month?"
"It's unbelievable. Nine months isn't enough time. It all went by so quickly, and we haven't prepared anything. Nothing, nothing at all, what are we going to do. Jack LISTEN, we're done. Done," Cole's voice trailed away, on the verge of crying, Cole muttered. "We failed them. We... We failed Al and Race."
Then it hit. Cole was not pregnant, but we did only have a month left. We were given nine months to prepare a solid case, regarding the missing girls, crazy people chasing after them, and countless unrealistic encounters. But all clues pointed at us, making us the guilty ones.
We didn't have evidence to prove that Jake, our so-called friend that we killed tragically, was contacting the girls. We didn't have anything to prove that the girls were targetted victims, rather than just two regular girls who died accidentally. We didn't even have Al's phone, which may have contained all the information we needed. If we didn't come up with a solid plan within the next month, both Cole and Jack would be held accountable.
"Oh. Oh shit."
"That's it? Oh shit? You're acting like you fucking forgot your homework at home, wake up for once. You always gave me shit for 'not caring' about Al and Race, and here you are, not giving a damn about this." Cole threw his hat to the floor, out of breath and hysterical.
"You're trying to say I don't care? Look, do you actually care about getting justice for Al and Race? Or are you just freaking out that you might get arrested? Talk. You wanted to talk shit, now come on," Jack stood up.
"You shut up. Just stop it. Neither Al or Race would've wanted this. I'm not going to fight with you right now," Cole tossed a soda can onto the floor, adding to the hell of a mess in their room. They've been living in this mess for eight months now. Bottles and clothes, fast food bags and leftovers, scattered everywhere. It reeked of odor and mold.
"Well they're dead now. Forget about them."
Cole looked up. His eyes looked past his own eyebrows, face set in stone. He so badly wanted to keep his stern face, acting as if it didn't bother him. His eyes flooded much quicker than he wanted, he cried, he couldn't deny it.
"You remember how this all started? What was it, a stolen wallet? Man I don't even know, but I promised them, I promised, that I wouldn't leave them. I said I wouldn't let them get lost in this fucked up world. I said it. But hell, I broke that promise," Cole buried his face into his hands, trembling and holding back more tears.
"Cole-" Jack had never seen him cry, not this badly.
"I want everything to back."
"We all do."
