Forgotten (A Becknessa Story) *DISCONTINUED*

Her Father

Beckett's POV
I knew that it was wrong, I knew that I had no right to listen. But, how could I not? I just needed air, I just needed to get her out of my head. I thought I was going insane when I heard her voice, but there she was. In all her beauty, talking to the moon. And I was going to say something, I was going to say how I couldn't stop thinking about her. I was going to tell her everything what I couldn't before. But I didn't. Because I knew that a part of me needed to hear this. A part of me needed her to say that she wasn't happy with Sasha, to somehow justify whatever I feel for her. The thing is, do I really feel something for her? Or am I holding onto the girl I used to know because I never got the chance to say goodbye?

I can't do this.

I begin to walk away until the thunderous sound of a branch breaking underneath my foot stops me in my tracks. Crap.

I turn around to meet the eyes of Vanessa Morita. The apparent shock in those chocolate brown eyes  don't seem to be wearing off any time soon so I make the rather bold move of sitting down on the bench. In the distance we could be seen as two strangers who coincidentally met under the moonlight, but it was so much more than that.

She said that she still felt something for me, or at least there was still a place for me left in her heart. And that's all I needed, that's all I've needed to hear these past few years. The unbearable urge to hold the brunette close lies within me. Yet, despite all these emerging feelings, I keep up my emotionless facade. Because I know that there was no way in hell the two of us could go back to what we were.

"Hey," I mumble, feeling guilty for intruding.

She gives me a slight nod of recognition while her eyes remain glued to the floor. Neither of us say or do anything else. We just sit there, entrapped by the all too familiar silence that now welcomed me with open arms. I didn't know what to say, what was I supposed to say?

"Am I interrupting something," I question like we've never sat under the very same moon together.

"You could say that," she responds, refusing to look me in the eyes.

After what felt like hours, the daunting realization of what Vanessa said before hits me. Who's the father? It was something that always lied in the back of my mind when I first met Aurora but I got so caught up in everything else that the thought was forgotten. I remember back to the conversation I had with Miles in the cafe, the reason those two ended a year long relationship was because Vanessa wouldn't tell him who the father was. Would she tell me?

"I'm sorry, I know that was supposed to be a private conversation. I just, can we talk about it,"  I ask, my voice portraying more emotion than I would've liked.

"There's nothing to talk about."

"You and I both know that's not true," I tell the dancer who just can't seem to make eye contact with me.

"What do you want to talk about," Vanessa questions and it's almost laughable how she's acting so; ignorant.

I scoot the tiniest bit closer, but that inch was enough for Vanessa to move to the other side of the bench. I stiffen my movements and clear my throat, preparing myself for what I'm about to ask.

"Who's the father," I ask, letting my curiosity get the best of me.

"Why do you want to know," she responds, answering a question with a question. Her voice so small with a slight quiver.