Chapter Text
Lydia was pretty sure it was bad how numb she'd grown to this particular nightmare.
But there were only so many times she could grieve her mom's passing. It was scary, at first, not to feel as distraught as she did in the past. Part of her thought this was the first step into her worst fear imaginable. But, deep down, Mama wouldn't want her wasting any more time than she had already.
Still, it was unnerving, to say the least.
The scene was etched into her memory; impossible to forget, as every detail remained the same with each visit. An overcast sky as depressing as the people veiled in black, the stoic face of Daddy, staring off into a thought--a feeling--Lydia only recently got to see. Then there was the casket, dangling over a pit in the ground, ready and eager to swallow Mama whole.
Lydia was always in the middle of Daddy and her younger self, a drab and dreary girl with tumbling dark hair and tears heavier than the downpour. Hands clenched over Little Lydia's chest as they shared the same thought; maybe, just maybe, Mama would suddenly lift the lid and ask someone to pass an umbrella. She'd breathe life back into everyone's chest, and brighten the sky with that coy smile Lydia had seen in framed photos.
If she was lucky, there were days she'd catch herself making a perfect copy in the mirror.
The priest's blessing was a mumble in the background, fuzzy memory or dream logic being its cause. Everything started to skip after that, like an old video cassette wound back one too many times.
Skip--the coffin began its jittery descent into the ground.
Skip--people dispersed the grounds, cars vanishing as quickly as their engines roared to life.
Skip--Daddy's umbrella partially angled, hiding Little Lydia's face as they slugged through the mud.
Skip--Little Lydia stared out the back window of the family's car, Daddy in mid-turn as the car readied to pull away.
Lydia's arms crossed over her chest, slowly walking beside the jittery car as she blankly stared at her younger self. Her voice adopted a high-pitched tone, a sugary-sweet grin cutting across her face. "Heey, Lydia, it's the Universe calling! Just wanted to put this on repeat so you don't forget about the worst day of your life."
She groaned, propping her weight against the car as the 'cassette' froze in place. "Delia was right; the Universe is female. Only a bitch would think this is funny to watch."
She glanced through the tinted window, expression softening at little Lydia's tear-stained face."Promise it gets better, kid." Her hand rested against the window, overshadowing little Lydia's easily. "Daddy'll come around, and Delia's not as bad as you think." A small smile managed across her lips as she added, "Plus, you get a pair of ghost parents, too! And they'll all drive you crazy with all the, 'I love you's, okay?"
She paused, registering how...okay, that actually sounded to her. That feeling of peace used to be terrifying, but she wasn't alone this time.
She wasn't invisible anymore.
Lydia gave her younger self one more glance, knowing full this was always the end of the road. "You'll get through this. You'll be okay, and,"
Again, she paused, squinting hard at the window's reflection. Her hand fell to her side, rubbing her eyes furiously before giving it a second glance. Was that...?
It couldn't be.
Dream or not, Lydia felt her heart skip a beat. She staggered away, fighting for balance as she craned her neck. Little Lydia's face distorted in the tint of the glass, the graveyard appearing more and more in focus. Black overcoats, the skeletal fingers of trees; the dream refused to let her turn around, but there was no way she'd misplace that pinstripe monstrosity. A short, stocky individual hung out by her mother's grave, a mess of bright green hair perfectly styled with a millennium of grime and grease.
"Beetlejuice?"
Lydia sat upright, staring at a wall adorned with dangling spiderlights and developed photographs. A few plastic jack'o'lanterns flickered alongside the amber fluorescence, scattered across her room to help piece reality back together. She blinked, drawing the shape of the partially-closed closet door, of her work desk covered in camera parts and maps circled with photoshoot ideas. The pitter-patter of rain plucked against the nearby window, gel cutouts of witches, pumpkins, and ghosts practically melted onto the glass surface. She used the noise as an anchor, short breaths bringing her back slowly, but surely.
Her gaze turned to her nightstand, biting back a squeal at the skeletal grin of her alarm clock read three in the morning.
"Okay, maybe 'too much Halloween' is a bad interior design choice..."
Lydia rubbed her eyes, trying to hold fast to the slivers of her dream slipping away. Was that him? Actually him? That dream was as familiar as the back of her hand, but she'd never seen him before. And she refused to believe she just hadn't noticed him; there was no way she was that inattentive, especially to something--for someone--so important.
"Beetlejuice..?"
Lydia bit her lip, the word worming its way out before she could stop it. Her chest tightened, ears tuning in to every creak and groan from the old hilltop house. The rain continued its tranquil beat outside, the house itself shifting uncomfortably from the damp like the bones of some old guy. A beat passed.
Another.
But no one came bursting through her door to chide her for even accidentally saying that name.
She sat up, mind now abuzz with intent. It wasn't like she meant to say it, after all. And, Delia always told her not to leave something half-finished, so really, this was just another step towards self-actualization.
Or whatever she said during life-coaching lessons.
Daddy slept like a rock, so she wasn't going to bother him, either. And the Maitlands didn't really have the sixth sense that came through being parents, so if anything, she was just helping them develop it.
"Besides," Lydia added. "He won't be here long enough to make trouble."
She nodded curtly; this was nothing more than a formality. She'd ask him about the dream, and he'd be on his way. Easy as that.
"Of course, if he wants a snack, I'm obliged as a hostess to offer him something." With dramatic flourish, her blanket flew across the air and crumpled to the ground, Lydia's legs swinging over her bed as she hopped down. "And I mean, it's raining, so I can't not offer him something warm to drink." She strolled across, pushing her closet completely open and pulling a black hoodie off its hanger."And, I mean, it'd be rude of me not to ask how he's been. A terrible hostess is one who holds one-sided conversations, after all."
She slipped the hoodie over her nightdress, adjusting the pull strings before side-stepping to a full-length mirror propped to the side. It was...certainly an eclectic look; pale lacing across the dress lent itself to spiderwebs, brightly contrasted against the hoodie itself. Her nose scrunched at her bedhead, contemplating a quick comb before shaking her head. "Like he actually cares what I look like."
Lydia took a deep breath, mustering whatever nerve she had left before letting the name slip quietly out between her lips.
"Beeeetlejuice~?"
The house creaked in reply, rain now pelting loudly against the rooftop. Lydia stared into her reflection, the passing seconds slowly forming a knot in her stomach. Did she say it too slowly? Maybe that was a new addition to the curse? She wouldn't put it past Juno to do something like that.
"Where is he...?"
She nearly jumped out of her skin as something tapped her on the shoulder, a yellow-toothed grin manifesting soon after in the mirror's reflection. Her hand shoved against his face, turning to face the absolute ghost with the most as a dramatic scowl crossed her face. "You're slipping, Beej! That's the slowest I've ever seen you heed the call."
The demon straightened his suit, mock anger coating that gravelly undertone. "Not my fault you talk a mile a minute! I was on actual pins and needles, waiting for you to say it a third time."
Lydia giggled, a finger raising to her lips.
"What? The Lydia Deetz wants me to respect others' sleep schedules?" His hands began to flatten, edging and glimmering in reflective brass before shaping into cymbals.
"Yes, she does!" A squealing cackle escaped as Lydia flew forward, wrapping her arms into a tight hug with her head perfectly placed between the cymbals. "If everyone's awake, that means I lose exclusive hugging rights!"
He considered this for a moment, cymbal awkwardly rubbing beneath his chin. "You make...excellent points." Shaking his hands violently, the demon's hands soon returned and grabbed under Lydia's arms, making some attempt to hoist the teen off her feet. "But you don't know what you signed yourself up for, kid!"
Lydia wrestled with her laughter, returning the gesture as she easily lifted Beetlejuice up. "I missed you, Beej."
"You could've called earlier," Beetlejuice pointed out.
Lydia put the demon back down, though refused to end their hug early. "I had to let things cool down a bit."
"Is, 'a bit' always two months for you breathers?"
"It is after the impression you left."
He opened his mouth to reply, closed it, and shrugged. "This is entirely fair; I leave a lasting impression, after all." The demon's foot began to bounce, hands awkwardly pulling back to his side as he cleared his throat. "Okay, well, don't go for a world record, here."
Lydia obliged, pulling away with a cough of her own. "Yeah. Sorry."
They stood, something unspoken weighing the air around them.
"Well, um..." Lydia offered her hand, an awkward smile crossing her face. " Can I invite you to our kitchen, good sir? I'm sure I saw a cockroach or two underneath the fridge with your name on it."
Beetlejuice adopted an air of snobbery, nose upright as took Lydia's hand. It was freezing cold, a touch grimy--Lydia swore she felt something crawl across her knuckles--she so desperately missed it. "I would be quite humbled, m'lady, to partake in the snacking of all things grotesque within the confines of your eatery."
Whatever tension had tried pulling between them seemed to loosen, after that. With a sigh of relief, Lydia led Beetlejuice towards the door, unable to leave that feeling behind as they slipped out to the hallway.