Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Somewhere in the manic excitement to distract from the pain and the long naps after dinner despite a full night’s sleep, there was a realization that something had to give. At least, that was what Beetlejuice could sense from the lone human approaching his house-prison at twilight on a brisk October night.

It was so decrepit, and was considered by the locals to have such bad energy, that the demon hadn’t seen a breather up here in years. Maybe a decade or longer, since the last pair of starry-eyed suburbanites had tried and failed to tame the place - and he hadn’t even interfered that time! But here one came, the unmistakable energy of a human soul making the trek up the hill to the mansion.

“Jesus, she didn’t even drive here…”

Who was she? Using as much magic as he could think of, he made himself invisible as he peered through a little window in the attic. Almost all of her light skin was covered in clothing, save for her face, on the nose of which rested square gray glasses. The glint of a distant street light obscured her eyes (Beetlejuice thought that was pretty badass, honestly), and her hands were shoved… well, almost violently into her hoodie’s center pocket.

Her backpack straight-up jingled as she walked - “What the hell does she have on that thing?” - and her walk itself was… stiff. Tense. Much more tense than was necessary to defy gravity (ha!) and climb up the rather steep driveway; Her whole body was, really. As she got closer, he could see straight-but-unkempt brown, shoulder-length hair swaying as she powered through to the crest of the hill, nostrils flaring as she kept her body supplied with oxygen (he was NOT envious of that requirement). Her mouth was set in a line, face just as tense as the rest of her.

What was her story? Why was she here? He tilted his head, fascinated.

…

…What? He was bored, of course he’d latch onto anything that even remotely seemed entertaining! Shut up! Stop giggling at him! Jeez!

Beetlejuice shook himself out of his trance, literally shaking his whole body with his powers, and phased through all the floors. “Bye attic. Hi office. Hello bedroom. Hi living room.” Stopping there, he warped to the front door, watching through the dusty old peephole as she approached. He giggled to himself behind his spectral veil as the fisheye lens wobbled her appearance; It was the simple things in (after)life, truly.

Then she put her gray backpack on the porch, unzipped it, and pulled out a drill.

Wait, what?

He’d expected a crowbar. A hammer, maybe, if she wanted to break a window. But here this girl was, slotting the battery into place and fastening a Philips head bit into the chuck of the power tool with quick, practiced ease. She disappeared from sight as she knelt in front of the doorknob, and since Beetlejuice couldn’t escape the boundaries of the house, he couldn’t phase through the door to watch her. He had to float there and listen as she unscrewed the doorknob, loosening it enough to wiggle it inside the half-rotten door. Sure as hell, she was able to wrench the whole assembly half-free and -

“Didn’t think that would actually work…”

She speaks! …Barely. If he weren’t supernatural, he might not have heard her words. But, though he was tempted, he didn’t have time to think about all the intricacies he could hear in her tone, pitch, and timbre, because she’d gotten the door open. Hinges rusted over for decades didn’t just creak as she pulled on it, they wailed in pain - Awesome.

Then the door started to open and a slight - okay, bigger than slight - panic began to brew in Beetlejuice’s mind: What if she can see him?! That panic quickly manifested as a teleport into a wall that she won’t see when looking into the house at first.

He knew it wasn’t a good idea to peek his face out just yet, so he pulled out a trick he hadn’t used in a long time: Seeing through objects. It was limited since he hadn’t stretched those metaphorical muscles in a while (he hadn’t needed to), but the rotting wall was easy to bypass. As she came into focus, he reflexively scolded himself inside for thinking that she could ever see him. He would always be alone. That doom spiral could wait, though. She was his focus now.

He could see her better, his ability to see in the dark helped further by her proximity. With her backpack slung up over her right shoulder again, she fished out a flashlight from its mesh side pocket, and it was surprisingly bright for its size. The light brought her into even clearer view, and Beetlejuice moved through the walls to get closer without thinking.

What?! He was curious! Stop laughing!

Her outfit was utilitarian and clearly meant to blend in (Technically, breaking in here was still breaking a stupid “law” or whatever): Plain black turtleneck, black hoodie, black jeans, black boots. Was she goth? Emo? Nah, she didn’t have enough makeup on, and it kinda looked like’d she’d never worn any in her life. No jewelry either - Better to move silently in.

She didn’t quite tiptoe through the foyer at first, but one too-loud step made her wince, which in turn made her roll her eyes at herself. “Literally nobody can hear you. The most dangerous thing here is, like, mold.” She let out a disgusted sound as she kept walking, scrunching up her nose. “Should’ve brought a respirator or something… Whatever.”

Beetlejuice was entranced.

He stared unblinkingly as she moved into the living room, stopping to swipe the beam of her flashlight over what little remained of the furniture left behind by the previous owners. The decades since their departure hadn’t been kind to them; The girl’s tight-lipped frown indicated that she was sad about that, but she kept on. The demon’s heart kind of twisted at the sound of her sigh, and he followed her, still in the wall but tempted to roam closer.

She took a quick glance at the kitchen - “Appliances used to look cool, now they’re ugly…” - then at the study, letting out an impressed hum at the floor to ceiling bookshelves. The dining room wasn’t of much interest to her, but the stairs were. She circled back and stopped to stare up them, and Beetlejuice was able to see her clearly in profile in a moonbeam from the massive window halfway up the stairs.

Her features were soft and round, her nose just slightly large for her face, and her mouth just a bit too small. But, in spite of how she carried herself, around her glasses-clad teal eyes were dark circles noticeable in the moonlight. When Beetlejuice used his powers to look a bit closer, he could see tiny red capillaries streaking across the whites of her eyes. Dear God/Satan, she was exhausted.

“This is a bad idea. These are probably rotted as fuck,” she murmured, testing one step with a bit of her weight. The wind picked up a bit outside simultaneously, and she tensed as the house settled, sharply waving the flashlight towards the few windows in view of her. The ghost couldn’t help but giggle just slightly, since it seemed her big bad persona was indeed just a persona. No matter how fondly he viewed a breather, fear was still “food” for him.

Oh, shit, she’s looking at him?! Well, not him directly, but - She must have heard me through the wall somehow…? Are my powers working on her?! Beetlejuice couldn’t help the excitement that began to dance across his mind like sparks. Should he just try? Should he take the chance at being wrong - being invisible? By the time he’d decided to table the discussion, she’d already dismissed the sound as her ears playing tricks on her, stepping carefully up the creaking stairs.

He floated out of the wall, silently as always, keeping himself directly behind her wherever she looked. He spotted the source of the jingling sounds from this position: A plethora of buttons and keychains decorating her backpack. Roller coasters, random jokes, movies, and more were represented on her bag. He couldn’t help taking a closer look as she kept going, completely unaware that a demon was over her shoulder committing her interests to memory.

She paused for a moment to look out the massive window to her left as she turned the corner at the midway point. He was so fascinated by the expression on her face that he almost got himself spotted in her periphery, signaled by a tiny murmured “What the fuck?” and a few quick glances over her shoulders. Maybe she really could see him -

“God. Calm the fuck down. Fuckin’ idiot…”

Beetlejuice froze, his emotions shifting the green areas of himself into a somber bluish purple. He was realizing that he… didn’t like the way she talked to herself.

Hm.

Before he could dwell on it, she scoffed at herself, charging up the latter half of the stairs two at a time into the massive second floor. The beam of her flashlight got fuzzier here with how much more dust had accumulated, and the window at the end of the hall showed only the darkness of the night. She was more careful with her steps, though, which was fair; No matter how sturdy old mansions were built, time and nature would always win. 

Her fingers brushed against the first doorknob on her left, and he shivered involuntarily as he zoned in on the simple act. Ugh. Stop that. No. Absolutely no feelings. She didn’t seem interested in seeing the rooms just yet, testing each doorknob, only to find them jammed shut from years’ worth of the wood warping. Even the door to the attic was stuck harder than she was willing to fight.

With nothing more to see, she sighed. Beetlejuice tilted his head and touched down on the ground, curious what she was thinking as she leaned against the attic door, slumping over, curling in on herself. She seemed at war with herself, ready to snap on a dime, but at the same time… Well, deeply depressed. Except for the part where she was screaming now.

She could see him.

She bolted to attention, grabbing a knife from her belt; She brandished it at him in her right hand, and forced herself to use her words as she shoved herself into the corner. “WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Okay, not the nicest words, but an improvement over screaming. “I - Hey - Listen, listen -”

“Shut up! Fuck. Am I fucking hallucinating? Gas leak, probably. Fuck, I need to go.”

“Hey, wait!” Beetlejuice superhumanly sped to get in front of her, blocking her escape. “That’s not even possible here, there’s no gas lines, trust me, I checked -”

“Okay, if you’re just, like, squatting here, I get it. Capitalism sucks,” she spat, gritting her teeth. “But you better shut the fuck up, get the fuck away from me, and leave me the fuck alone before I fucking stab you.”

Beetlejuice would be lying if he said he wasn’t into the fire she was spitting. “Alright, alright, hey, stepping away.” He raised his hands and backed off a bit, but not enough that she could easily bolt and dodge him. “But can you just please hear me out?” He begged her to say yes so hard in his mind that he wouldn’t be surprised if she heard it echoing in hers.

“Uh… I mean,” she mumbled, not quite putting the knife away but lowering her hand. “About what?” She seemed to deem him harmless enough, for the moment.

Now or never. Rip off the bandage. C’mon, do it. “Okay, so… I’m a demon cursed to be trapped in the world of the living and unable to interfere with it like I used to and only ghosts can see me but you’re special so you can see me even though you’re definitely still alive which MEANS you can help me break the curse by saying my name three times and for what it’s worth I think you’re cool.”

She stared back at him, looking confused beyond what she thought possible, as the words tumbled out of his mouth.

“…That, uh… That was it. That’s all I have to say.”

She blinked, raised her patchy eyebrows (He fretted as he observed them that it may be a destructive habit), and stared some more. But then, stiffly and slowly, she came closer, reaching out her empty left hand in front of her. She was wary, shown in the way her acne-scarred face twisted and tensed, but bravely approached him, and -

Contact. Sensation. Touch.

“Oh shit,” Beetlejuice murmured as be shivered, his magic rippling around him and reaching for her subconsciously. Decades of neglect, maybe centuries (time felt different in his state), were finally at an end. He couldn’t help the way his shoulders slumped, his hair and moss turning a pattern of light blue and pink. And that was only from the brush of the tips of her pointer, index, and ring fingers against his chest… which she quickly pulled away. He had to force himself not to start sobbing.

“You good, man?” She seemed unnerved, but concerned. To her, it probably seemed like she’d hurt him… And she had definitely not been prepared for him to be real.

“I - I’m - Yeah - Uh -” Beetlejuice shook his head to clear it, trying to bring himself back to normalcy. He collected his emotions as much as he could, and his hair began to return to his preferred green.

“Look, I’m gonna just…” she murmured as she started to move past him. “…Go. And never bother you ag -”

“No!” The word slipped out of Beetlejuice before he could think, and the motion of grabbing her wrist - close to the knife in her hand - happened too.

She didn’t wince, but she grimaced and yanked herself free, staring for one more moment before bolting down the hall, barrelling down the stairs, and charging through the door.

He didn’t have the heart to chase her, but he’d be thinking of her for a long, long time.

He hoped she’d have a better day tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Beetlejuice had stared out the window for three days.

The hours slipped by without him noticing. Without a body to take care of, or a perfectly-stable tether to the space-time continuum, it was easy for him to get lost in time. He could sleep forever, if he wanted, and he had before (for decades at a time, at the beginning of his curse), though this wasn’t one of those times. He replayed his encounter with the girl over and over, imagining what he could have done to make it work out better, and kicking himself for being so stupid… Not that it wasn’t par for the course, though. But he swore regret and disappointment in himself didn’t mean he had feelings for her.

It was very similar weather tonight (day three) to the night she’d first visited, and he floated laying down in the air next to the attic window. It was dawning on him just now how long he’d been here… Maybe it’s time to go down for a long sleep… but autumn was his favorite season, and luckily, Connecticut actually experienced the full four-season rotation, meaning he got to watch the leaves change and fall every year. He figured he may as well keep with his tradition - Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Footsteps up the driveway. Beetlejuice’s energy instantly returned to him as he sat upright in the air and peered outside, and sure enough… Her.

She came back.

He wasted no time observing her and quickly realized she was wearing an almost identical outfit to last time, having only traded out the hoodie for a black jean jacket and her turtleneck for a shirt with… a band name on it. Maybe she’d tell him about them, about her favorite music. Did she play an instrument? Which one? For how long? In a band or on her own?

Beetlejuice shook himself, a physical manifestation of the nervous energy he needed to purge from his system. What was with him?! What was this? He brushed the sleeves and front of his coat fervently as if to “clean” himself of the “weakness.” He set himself down on his feet, dragging his hands down his face and running clawed fingers through his hair. Oh, yeah, the claws… better retract those.

“Hey, uh… Hi… Weird guy…”

He nearly fainted as he heard her voice echoing through the old halls and walls. And he didn’t even have blood.

“I wanted to, uh… apologize for threatening to stab you the other day...” she called. “That was kinda… really not great of me...”

Beetlejuice hadn’t expected her to come back in the first place, but… an apology? For defending herself? That was just… unnecessary. But something in him stirred at the idea that he was someone worth making amends with.

Her footsteps had stopped, and he heard a soft thump and a zipper opening, followed by some sort of crinkling sound. “I brought you, uh... some snacks? I don’t really know how to apologize to someone I don’t know... but, everyone likes food. I guess. So…”

He could barely keep himself from warping down there and hugging her so tightly that her back would break; Instead, he just warped into the living room in front of her.

“SHIT -” The girl jumped and pulled out her knife again (in her right hand; her left was holding a bag of Doritos). “What the FUCK!”

“Sorry! Sorry,” Beetlejuice apologized, hands up in front of his chest. “I forget breathers aren’t used to the supernatural, I’m sorry.”

“What?! The fuck is a ‘breather’ - and how the FUCK did you do that?!”

Oh. She didn’t believe him that night. “Well, a breather is you. Living human being. Alive. Y’know… Breathing. As for this,” he warped to the kitchen and back, “That’s just a benefit of being supernatural, like I said.”

“I - Hold on. Hold on.” She shoved her knife back into her pocket and rested her free hand under her glasses, slumping over in disbelief. “You’re - You are actually, legitimately, a ghost - er, demon? That wasn’t, like - a fucked up lie?” She met his eyes again, and he wouldn’t miss that glimmer of intrigue in a million years.

Beetlejuice nodded and shrugged, embracing his natural showmanship for the first time in at least a century as he opened his arms and floated off the ground a few inches. “The real deal!” His added height made her tilt her head up more to look at him, but he tried not to think about it. But in trying not to think about it, he did think about it, and his features began morphing sharper without a second thought.

“Holy shit…” the girl murmured, watching the display of power, as entranced as he’d been the night before. “I - Sorry. I’m… Just…” She set the bag of chips on the ground next to her backpack. “This is… Like, my whole… belief system is getting rearranged…”

The demon snorted a laugh. “Usually it takes a little more action for them to say that, but hey, not complaining,” Beetlejuice murmured, his too-sharp teeth flashing in his smirk.

That got her attention. “Excuse me?!” The disgusted, snarling glare she shot him almost pained him physically.

Okay, no sex jokes with this one, noted… Well, not yet at least. …Why’d I think that. “Sorry, sorry. Old habits. The Netherworld doesn’t really have a filter, y’know?”

She looked at him as if he may lunge at her. “Right… wait. ‘Netherworld?’ What?”

His eyes widened for a moment as he realized. “Oh, yeah. Right. Sorry, been alone for a really long time, forgot for a sec that you don’t, uh… know.” He “sat” cross legged in the air as she looked at him quizzically. “But, hey, we’ll get to that later. What’s your name, babes?”

She scoffed. “Well, it’s not that. Don’t call me that.”

Oh, she liked when he called her that.

See, Beetlejuice couldn’t read minds (at least, not in this cursed state), but he could feel emotions if he focused hard enough. They manifested for him almost as strongly as if they were his own, and right now, he could call her bluff if he wanted. But, hey, not really the greatest way to start out a friendship (well… he hoped it’d become a friendship). So he opted to tease instead.

“My bad, sweetheart.” He wiggled his head a little at that, cartoonishly expressing himself with crossed arms as he reveled in being able to be seen in full for the first time in an excruciatingly long time. “Spit it out. What do they call ya?”

She sighed and rolled her eyes, but with his extraordinary eyes, she couldn’t hide the tiny twitch of a smile that she almost let slip. “Sylvia,” she muttered. “Uh, she/it.”

“Well, hello, Sylvia. Sylvie, if you will.” Beetlejuice giggled as microexpressions flickered and shifted across her face, taking in how he’d almost purred that “hello.”

“Yeah, uh, no.” She crossed her arms, too. Trying to hide what his voice did to her. “You can’t call me Sylvie.”

“Whaaaaat?!” He extended the syllable in mock offense.

That got a giggle out of her. “Nope. Off limits. But, what’s yours?”

Ah. There it was. He grimaced and blinked awkwardly, shrugging a little. “So… Y’know how last night, I said I was cursed?”

“Yeah,” Sylvia said as she nodded and tilted her head. “You’re stuck here, but you can’t influence anything, except other ghosts and stuff?”

He shrugged with his hands out to the sides. “Yep, and the only way to get me out is for a breather to say my name three times in a row… but I can’t say my name. And most breathers can’t perceive me, so… can’t help them figure it out either.”

Sylvia hummed, equal parts impressed and saddened. “Whoever cursed you was smart. That’s like… layers of prevention. What’d the hell did you do to get stuck with that?”

Shit. Shit! Lie. Lie lie lie open your mouth you fuckin’ idiot c’mon c’mon -

“Long story,” he sighed. That was technically true, at least. “My mom, uh… Sucks. Wishes I didn’t exist. So, I guess, this is her way of doing that…” Also true. Just not the whole story.

Sylvia opened her mouth a bit to speak, but paused, letting her jaw hang open for a few moments. Her eyes shifted around, scanning Beetlejuice’s whole form as she became thoughtful, but when they got back to his, he was floored to see sympathy in them. The time that had passed since he’d last seen that look directed at him was unfathomable. “I - Jeez. That’s fucked. I’m sorry, man.”

He didn’t notice he’d floated down to the floor until he forced himself to break eye contact with her, the sincerity in them lighting a fire in his soul that he didn’t understand. “Thanks. That’s real sweet of ya.”

She sat down across from him, grabbing her flashlight from her backpack and setting it to illuminate the ceiling. There was something soft in the gesture; She wanted to see him, even more of him than his current dim glow allowed. 

“Hey, trust me, I know what it’s like to have the world want you to stop existing.”

Beetlejuice picked his head up, and looked at her for a long moment. Something was special about her. Maybe a lot of things. Maybe everything. He smiled at her, genuine and real.

“So, about my name…”

Chapter Text

Knockknockknock. Creeeak. “Hey, Beetlejuice!”

The demon’s eyes flew open as he regained consciousness two days after Sylvia’s second visit (Well, nights. She never visited before dark). She was again calling to him from the dim foyer below. It was something he still had to get used to, the whole “being social” thing… But he knew he was already addicted to the excitement he felt when she came back.

He’d playfully given her a cryptic description of his name and watched her eagerly look up the names of the stars making up Orion. He hadn’t pushed the summoning when she figured it out, which had surprised himself - He had wanted out so badly for so long. What could possibly be more important than freedom? Friendship? Pshh. Yeah, right, he was a demon! C’mon. His main goal was chaos and terror; Friends weren’t his priority. He swore.

And he knew he was lying.

Fuck.

Shaking himself out like a wet cat, he pulled himself back to focus, dropping down through the floors and appearing before her with a flourish. “Hiya, babes!”

Sylvia was knelt on the floor propping up a big flashlight, a lawn chair bag slung across her back, and she snickered as he floated over to her. “Hey, man, what’s up?”

She didn’t tell me not to call her that this time... Beetlejuice sat cross-legged a few feet from her, shrugging as he leaned his head into his hand. “Ah, y’know. Existing in between dimensions, projecting my mind across the universe to cure my boredom. The usual.”

“Oh, yeah, totally normal occurrences,” she responded. She tried to keep it deadpan, but devolved into giggles at the last words, taking the lawn chair off her back and opening its carrying case.

The demon smiled and nodded a little as he inspected her outfit (Sue him, he liked human fashion. It wasn’t just because it was her. It wasn’t. Shut up). “Completely average day for me, yep.” She was wearing less black today, though her jeans still were, but she’d chosen sneakers instead of boots and a dark purple sweater. It looked kinda old, maybe older than her. Awesome.

Sylvia settled into the lawn chair, sitting criss-cross-applesauce just like him. But as Beetlejuice floated up to keep eye to eye with her, he froze and stared as he heard a wince escape her. As far as he could tell from her emotions, she didn’t seem to care about whatever pain she experienced. If she were supernatural like him, sure, that would be normal, but she was a breather, blood pumping and neurons firing, alive. Not seeing any reaction, it reminded him of - Well, you don’t want to hear about that. It was just weird, and… scary. How was he scared?

“Beetle, you good?”

He blinked hard and fast, untensing his body as he realized he’d been lost in thought. “Oh. Yeah. Uh… Are you good?”

A quirk of her eyebrow. “What?”

“You just sounded like you were in pain there. When you sat down. Are you hurt or somethin’?”

“Oooh,” she murmured as she shook her head, “No, I’m fine. I mean, I‘m definitely in pain, but -”

“What?!” Beetlejuice didn’t like how worried he sounded. Why did he sound so worried?

Sylvia had the audacity, the gall, to giggle at his response. He was vividly aware of how much it made him want to hug her. “I promise I’m good. Just chronic pain. Genetic stuff, my back is fucked, scoliosis runs in my family, etcetera etcetera.”

Oh. She was suffering. He felt his expression becoming deeply concerned without a thought from him. What was this? What was he so distressed for? What was he doing? What was wrong with him?! Be a demon, you idiot, his mother’s voice rang in his head. Be a demon.

“Hey. BJ. Come back to me, buddy.”

Again, he honed in on Sylvia’s voice. She seemed almost amused at his distress, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to be mad. He looked out at her, her eyes shining in the glow of the flashlight, and looked down at where she was looking: He’d wrapped his arms around himself in a death grip.

“I’m sorry, I... Dunno what that was…”

Beetlejuice watched her eyes glance up just past his own. “You’re… changing color. That’s kinda sick.”

“Ah, shit...” He summoned a mirror to look at his hair; The green was gone from every follicle, even across his beard and arms, replaced with lavender, sky blue, and a bit of white in there for good measure. He poofed the mirror away after a quick glance and closed his eyes, pushing the bad feelings out of his mind, visualizing them as smoke coming off a fire. “Another, uh, curse thing. Mood ring hair. Real fuckin’ embarassing…”

“What? Dude, no -” Sylvia laughed softly, but not mockingly. “Listen. There’s literally nothing you can do to be embarassing. You’re a fucking demon. Everything you do is cool! I wish my hair changed like that.”

Beetlejuice scratched at his scalp for a moment, fluffing up his hair as it finished returning to green. He let his gaze soften as he locked eyes with her - No, his whole posture softened. It was so foreign to him, but he couldn’t stop. It was like a reflex.

Something was happening to him.

All he could do was smile weakly and give her the tiniest “Thanks” he could muster, but she happily accepted that. “Of course. I mean it! And I know it’s probably kinda freaky to see me be so… nonchalant about it. But it is what it is, y‘know? I mean…” The human stood up from the chair and braced itself against the nearest corner, a chorus of crunches popping out of her spine as she stretched and twisted. “…Nothin’ much I can do about it.”

“Holy shit, doll,” Beetlejuice nearly yelled, standing upright in his floating position. “You weren’t kiddin’ about it being fucked!” He couldn’t help a laugh at the absurdity of it.

Sylvia shrugged as she sat back down, her face noticably pinker upon hearing the pet name and his laughter. “Yeah, figured you’d enjoy that since our talk last time ended with you telling me the top ten most disgusting things you’ve ever encountered in the Netherworld.”

He smiled as he ”laid down” on his side in midair. “Ah, what can I say, I love telling breathers about the rivers of blood. But, hey, I figured tonight, maybe… You tell me about you instead…? I-I mean, only if you wanna.” The demon shrugged and broke eye contact for a moment. “I told you about my backstory and stuff. Makes sense we’d have an, uh, even exchange, heh.” He really hoped he didn’t sound desperate. Not that he was desperate for something. He wasn’t.

“Oh. Uh, yeah, sure,” the human responded with a nod. “I’m not really that interesting, but, what do you wanna know?” A tiny smile told Beetlejuice this would take some care; It seemed like the topic of the self was sore for her.

“Well, we can start easy. What brought ya to Winter River, Connecticut? Don’t think you mentioned growing up here.”

Sylvia grimaced a little. “That one’s not as easy as I’d like it to be.”

Shit. Don’t drive her away, idiot. “Sorry, sorry, you can -”

“No, it’s okay, I’m being a fuckin’ baby about it,” she interrupted with a laugh. “Yeah, I didn’t grow up here. Nowhere near here, even.“

The demon floated down to her eye level again, daring to come a bit closer. “Whereabouts?“

“Ohio,” she said, not seeming to mind how he entered her personal space a bit. Quite a change from her first two visits.

“Ugh, the ‘Heart Of It All,’ booooriiiiing!”

She snorted, faking offense. “Hey! Ohio has cool stuff! Like roller coasters, and great museums, and like, the best hospital in the world.”

“You think I care about places where lives get saved, babes?” He dramatically put a hand to his chest, making it clear that, while he was telling the truth, he was also teasing her.

She responsed in kind, rolling her eyes in fake annoyance as she smiled with her whole face. “Yeah, yeah, I know… The whole ‘being dead’ thing.”

Beetlejuice’s metaphorical heart lept in satisfaction as she parroted back the little catchphrase he’d told her the other night. “Uh-huh! You’re catchin’ on. Though roller coasters do sound very tempting… But, continue,” he conceded with a gesture toward her.

“Right, so, uh… My grandparents and my childhood cat all passed away a while back -”

“All at once?!”

Sylvia snorted and laughed at his interruption, but could tell he was serious by the almost-impressed shock on his face. “No! No, over time. But, yeah, I don’t have much reason to stay back there anymore, and my job lets me work completely remotely, so I took a leap and tried somewhere new.”

“Hell of a leap.”

“For sure. Took a while to get my stuff out here, but it’s been - worth it… so far.” Her eyes flicked away from where they’d been glued to his as she finished her sentence, and Beetlejuice could smell that she was lying (Oh, this is probably a weird time to bring up that power of his. Whoops). “It’s so quiet here. Even quieter than where I came from. It’s… lonely. It’s very, very lonely,” she admitted, laughing dejectedly. “But I came here to get away from everyone I knew, so, mission fuckin’ accomplished.” The human still refused to meet his eyes again. “There’s nothing for me back there. Nothing for me here, either, really…”

The demon-ghost watched as his friend closed her eyes and took a deep, slow breath. Neither of them noticed how close he’d floated to her until a long moment had passed, in which silent tears began to wet her eyes.

“Shit!” Sylvia jumped a bit in her chair as she opened her eyes, slightly redder than they were before.

Beetlejuice made a scared sound at the sudden movement and pulled away, but not so much as to make her think he didn’t care.

…Why’d he care if she thought he cared?

“Sorry, just… tired. I’m an easy crier.”

“Ah, don’t stress about it. All you breathers are the same. Big ol’ crybabies,” he lied. Why did he feel so bad about saying that? It was just an insult. Why did he not like it?

“True, true,” the human agreed with a chuckle. “I guess you wouldn’t get the human need for, y’know… Affection and shit.”

If he had blood, it would‘ve just run cold.

“Uh - Well, y’know, it’s not…” What are you doing? “That kinda thing isn’t, uh…” He fidgeted madly with his fingers, nearly unable to contain his own energy. What was he, an amateur? A newlydead? And what did he even think he was going to say?!

“Well, it’s not that foreign to me.”

The demon dropped his eyes down to his lap, and to the floor beneath his floating sitting form. What the fuck am I doing?

Eyebrows are raised, and dripped tears are wiped off of cheeks with a thrifted sweater sleeve. She stared at him, stared down the metaphorical barrel of the metaphorical loaded gun with her blue-teal-green-gray-orange-in-the-middle eyes, and Beetlejuice felt one emotion radiating off of her - Stronger than the ripples in space-time off a black fucking hole.

She understood.

He began to panic, apologizing for being weird and telling her to head out before the weather got bad, needing her to just go -

“Beej.”

It took a moment to register: Nickname. Shortening of his own, playfully yet earnestly spoken as a term of endearment. Endearment. Care.

Affection.

“Can I touch you? Both permission and literally. I don’t know if I actually can…”

Beetlejuice’s eye twitched as he began to smile. “Permission granted. Yes. Absolutely.” There was the desperation again; No time to think of that now.

“Okay…” Sylvia murmured, reaching out for his form, which appeared solid, but, hey - Maybe he wasn’t - Oh. He was.

The demon froze as her right hand made contact with his right shoulder. And just as soon as he’d frozen, he melted, his body barely abiding by the laws of physics as he lowered himself to the floor. She followed him, scooting the chair to the side as she settled in on the floor. But she kept her hand on his shoulder, and he felt like he was burning up from inside.

Good. Let it burn down.

Chapter Text

After that night with the mood ring hair and the shoulder touch, things changed for Beetlejuice and his new friend. But, get this: They changed for the better. He wasn’t used to that.

First and foremost, he and Sylvia got to know each other a bit more after that moment. It was a long night (luckily, a weekend, so she could be up late). They started breaking down each other’s emotional barriers without realizing it until they’d gone their separate ways for the night… And when she came back the next day, in broad daylight for the first time, they kept at it.

He saw her more often after that, too; Almost every day! In the following weeks, their comfort with each other only grew. He was especially fond of how much further she was willing to let him take his jokes - the make-her-blush-bright-red kind, the kind involving a scare, the gross-outs, and even the ones about what the two of them could be. Together. If they were, y’know - well, maybe let’s not let the D word slip just yet. Might kill the author.

But anyway, yes: Even with Beetlejuice’s penchant for derailment and unseriousness, Sylvia wasn’t getting sick of him. It was the opposite.

“Huh.”

The sound of awestruck realization came out of the demon’s mouth as he thought back on the last month. He was floating impatiently in the front room, waiting for his human to get back.

…His human?

Oh, I’m fucked. Am I fucked? I think I’m -

Doorknob squeaked, door creaked - No time to think about that now. “Hey, Beej!” Sylvia’s familiar bright voice swept through the old house and the ghost responded with a quick warp and stupid little lean against the wall on his elbow like in the cartoons.

“Come here often?” Beetlejuice rasped, winking and pointing a finger gun at her.

The brunette snorted and shook her head as she carefully turned around to shut the door gently (He loved how carefully she treated the house, even if it was his prison). “Uh, yeah, actually,” she played along, turning again as she removed her wet boots; November rain rushed outside. “Been here a lot the past month, hangin’ out with a demon all night.”

“Well, hope he’s been making it worth your while, babes,” he murmured, exaggerated innuendo laced into his words. She would think it was part of the bit, but he was still taking a risk with the pet name, because as comfortable as she was getting, he still knew she wasn’t too keen on being… liked. In any way past friendship.

“Oh, my god…” came the soft mutter from her as she took off her backpack. She’d instantly realized she’d walked right into that one by saying “all night,” but she was smiling. She locked eyes with him as she took off her windbreaker - The risk had paid off. He relished that flattered-nervous-shy-happy expression she was doing: Smiling to try to play it cool despite her eyes and slight blush betraying her. “Yeah, he has… How was your Thanksgiving?”

Beetlejuice shrugged, turning away and leading her further into the house after she’d discarded her jacket to the floor and retrieved her backpack. “Eh, same ol’ same ol’ like always…”

“You try to sleep through it?”

“Well… I dunno.” The demon led his friend up the first flight of stairs. “This’ll sound crazy, but… Even having eternity ahead of me doesn’t make me wanna avoid it.”

Sylvia was careful to hold the railing. “Didn’t you just tell me a few weeks back that you skipped entire decades?”

Beetlejuice was grateful he wasn’t facing her as he stammered. “Well - Yeah, I did, but… Those decades didn’t have y-people like you. People who could both see me and stand me.” Ugh. Horrible save. Hopefully she buys it…

As they reached the top of the stairs to the second floor, the human made an understanding humming sound. If she’d processed his slip-up, she wasn’t going to acknowledge it. “I wish you could’ve found friends back then. It sucks to know you were almost entirely alone before me.”

The demon had to try very hard not to cry.

They reached the attic after crossing the hall and ascending the narrow stairs. Beetlejuice opened the door and let her in first with a goofy formal bow, which she returned with a mock curtsy. He’d invited her up to the more cozy spot a few weeks back, and she’d graciously accepted, gradually bringing over creature comforts to make the space more livable. A few old throw pillows, some cheap blankets, and his favorite: A bean bag chair for him.

Sylvia had found the bright green lump in a thrift store a ways from Winter River, and when she’d brought it to him, he’d shouted in excitement and melted through the floor in gratitude. He loved it, but… he felt like their hangouts, now complete with comfy furnishings, were still missing something. He wished he could convince her to get closer outside of the occasional shoulder pat or hug.

Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

“Brought my laptop tonight!” the human announced as she settled into her respective bean bag (orange, her favorite warm color) and Beetlejuice flopped facedown into his. “It should last enough to watch stuff for a few hours, at least. I really need a new battery…”

“Ooh, I wanna keep watching that show about the FBI agents!” The demon flipped onto his side excitedly to face her.

Sylvia giggled as she pulled out the computer, opened it, and turned it on. “Criminal Minds sucked you in, huh,” she mused, plugging in her hard drive full of shows. “Yeah, it’s the type of show that does that to you.”

“I keep thinking about that one DILF, he’s my favorite so far,” Beetlejuice admitted to a loud snort of laughter from his friend.

“Hotch?”

He snapped his fingers in recognition and nodded. “Yeah, him! I love Garcia too. But I’m mainly here for the fucked up kills, though.”

The human just chuckled again as she pulled up the episode where they left off. “I… I just cannot believe you know what DILF means.”

“I’m trapped here physically, not mentally. I know all the breather lingo… for better and for worse,” the demon reminded, watching Sylvia set the laptop on the floor and start the show with a flabbergasted shake of her head, pulling a blanket over herself to keep out the late-November chill that permeated the heatless house.

He tried to focus on the show; He tried to piece together the mystery with the characters on screen as it played out; He tried to laugh at the jokes and at the unfortunate fates of the victims (earning him a playful punch in the shoulder). He really made an effort to make the night feel normal, to keep his feelings inside, but he was never good at either of those. No matter what he tried, Beetlejuice just couldn’t keep his attention off her.

His powerful senses were activated and in overdrive: He watched every tiny muscle in her body twitch and shift. She blinked more when she was a bit creeped out by the show. He could hear her blood rushing, her lungs inhaling and exhaling, her heart pumping steadily in her ribcage. He could smell the last meal she had (barely anything, really), and the store she visited before coming over.

He could literally feel her living.

Somewhere deep down in him, he felt that this level of observation was fucked up. Wrong. Depraved. But at the same time… It was just how he was. This was just him using some of his abilities on a breather, that’s all. Nothing he hadn’t done in the pre-curse years. Hell, this was nothing compared to what he’d done back then. Why was he conflicted now? What was it about Sylvia that made the difference?

Those were rhetorical questions; He already knew.

As a second and third episode played out before him, Beetlejuice thought back through the last month of his life to all the times he’d caught himself having real feelings for her. And after a moment, he realized that he’d taken those times for granted. He’d moved on with perfect ease, as if they were the truth… the reason being they were the truth, and he’d known it all along.

He was so completely doomed.

The sun was setting now, clouds blocking the orange hues, leaving nothing but dusk gray. The laptop screen that lit up Sylvia’s face flashed a low battery warning, which she quickly dismissed. “We should be able to get through this episode. I don’t just wanna up and leave right after that, though,” she murmured.

I don’t wanna leave. Those words (even used as part of a longer phrase) gripped the demon. She wanted to stay. To stay longer than an arbitrary limit required. To keep being with him once their planned activity was done. She wanted to stay with him.

As the episode ended and Sylvia shut down the computer, Beetlejuice managed to shake himself free of his trance. The sun was gone now, leaving the human’s phone as the only light source as she checked for messages from friends and family. She typed a few short replies, but sighed soon after and locked the device, dropping it into a little pocket on her backpack and curling up into the bean bag.

The demon broke the silence first, as he was used to. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

No verbal response. Just a shrug and some vague negative emotions floating off her like a soft breeze, though she did seem to appreciate the soft nickname (Not something she’d ever admit). She tucked the blanket closer to her, under her feet and close enough to her face that she could hide everything but her eyes, laying on her side to face him.

Beetlejuice hummed thoughtfully, shifting himself and the bean bag closer to her. She didn’t try to put any space between them like she had when she first began visiting, and he didn’t let her increased trust go unnoticed. Against his track record, he treated it with the appreciation and respect that was deserved. “I can only kinda-sorta read your mind in this state. You gotta tell me what you’re feelin’ if you want me to know.” He laid on his side as well, looking across the little space between them. A foot, maybe. Easily close enough to touch, if she really wanted.

Sylvia softly snickered for a moment, her tiny smile making Beetlejuice’s own expression light up, even if she wasn’t quite making eye contact. “Sorry. Just family stuff. Don’t worry about it.”

“Ah,” he nodded understandingly. He summoned a big, black and white striped comforter of his own to snuggle up with as he thought of what to say next. It was huge, probably for a king sized bed, and it swallowed up him, his bean bag, and a bunch of the attic floor. The human giggled again at the sheer absurdity, and the demon fought back the urge to just throw the massive blanket over her, pull her in, and cuddle her. “I only have one family member, but, like I said a while back… she kinda gave me enough grief for a whole extended clan.”

Sylvia grimaced. “Yeah, those were definitely some, uh… fucked up stories you told me.”

Beetlejuice, sensing she had more to say, just thumbs-upped from under the blanket as if to say “Sorry for trauma dumping,” getting another giggle out of her. If they didn’t laugh about it, they’d cry.

“But… Really, I’ve just been thinking a lot about, like… I have a lot of friends. I-I’m very lucky, don’t get me wrong. I love them, they love me, but sometimes, it’s like… I’m still alone. Just disconnected from them somehow.” She sheepishly picked at the thread of the throw blanket around her. “Sometimes it just… feels like I’m real, and they’re not? Or… the reverse. Something stupid like that.”

The demon watched her with rapt attention, shaking his head and waving a hand at her last sentence. “Eh. It’s not stupid, honey.” His night vision allowed him to see how she became a different type of sheepish at the pet name, and the soft emotions starting to radiate off her more gave him a bit more courage. “We both know breathers have shitty brains that don’t work. Some more than others. You are kinda alone in this world right now. I don’t blame you for feeling outta whack.”

The human nodded and shrugged again. “Yeah…” she murmured, not disagreeing, but seeming… unsatisfied with his response. And if there was ever something Beetlejuice got right, it was that he left everyone satisfied. (…Yeah, bad joke. Sorry.)

“I-I know I’m… not really qualified to help you out here, cupcake,” he admitted quietly, the vulnerability paining him but pulling him forward like a magnet to metal. His voice ramped up in volume to match. “Emotions don’t come easy for you, but they really don’t for me. L-Literally, like, the curse dampens my ability to express shit and it really kinda sucks, and -”

Rambling. Shit. He stopped himself short and shrunk away from her a bit, expecting annoyance by default. “I’m sorry, really, I am. But tell me what you need and I’ll do my best, ‘kay?”

The demon expected her to have turned away from him while he was chattering into his own blanket, but as he glanced back up, he saw Sylvia’s glasses-covered eyes in his night vision. They were wide, a bit teary, and… grateful. He blinked, anxiously waiting for her to take a breath and say something. Anything. Anything to tell him he was doing something right.

“Beetlejuice.”

He jumped ever slightly toward her at his name, which kickstarted his magic only for a moment when spoken. “Y-Yeah?” He saw the warm light of his eyes trickle across her face as they began to glow.

“You are…”

Shaky inhale. Closed eyes. Shaky exhale.

“You are so much more than I deserve.”

Beetlejuice disconnected from his not-quite-body for a few long moments.

The magically summoned quilt disappeared as he sat up in disbelief. The dust in the air parted, leaving a dim moonbeam to fall across Sylvia’s face. The house itself seemed to stop creaking and rocking with the wind. The demon’s eyes’ glow became warmer and brighter, joining the moonlight in illuminating his human - His human, who was sitting upright now, reaching out her hands, palms facing him. Possession wasn’t just for the dead, apparently. She had him in a trance again.

He laid his palms on hers, and in a moment of supernatural understanding (or maybe just of yearning for connection), he interlocked his fingers with hers.

She followed suit.

They sighed.

Beetlejuice didn’t have lungs, but he did it without thinking. For her. To connect with her. To be with her, to exist, even only for a moment. To show her he… No, it couldn’t be… Yes, it could. He cared. The most powerful demon ever created cared.

And it seemed to end as fast as it had begun. With a gasp, Sylvia unlocked her fingers and pulled away, beginning to hyperventilate, picking up her backpack, where is she going, “Wait, where are you - ?!”

Down the stairs, out the door, down the hill. Just like the first time.

For just that little while, Beetlejuice hadn’t felt cursed.