Through the mirror (Beetlejuice x Reader)

Part 3 - Beetlejuice

- "At least that's what I saw in your computer." He completes, still soaring around you with a bold smile in his unshaved and pale face.

- "Wha.. In my computer?? How long have you been here?" You inquire.

- "Not much."

- "So you died recently? Is that why you're dressed like that? Were you on your way to a costume party and-" He interrumpts you.

- "Costume party!? Excuse you hottie! This is made by me for the 'ghost with the most'. You are contemplating the last cry in Neitherworld fashion." He exclaims, offended.

- "Who's 'the ghost with the most'? And what's the Neitherw-" He interrumpts you, again. It seems to be a habit of his.

- "I am! And do you know how rude it's to ask a ghost about their cause of death?" On this occasion his affected expression looks as real as the one of a small-time soap opera actor.

- "Oh... Yeah I imagine." You add, feeling actually guilty for bursting into questions.

- "No you can't." His distress seems very exaggerated, it is obvious that he isn't really hurt, but he is partly right.

- "Sorry..."  You both stay in silence for a few seconds. "Would you mind if we start again?" He puts his cheap drama aside and looks at you with sincere curiosity, since he didn't seem to know what you were referring to. Before he can understand anything, you turn around, take a few steps, turn back, and approach him again.

- "Hello 'ghost with the most', I'm Y/N. Welcome to my house." You hold out your hand.

- "That's quite better." He returns the handshake, surprising you significantly.

- "Ah, now you are tangible? Can you control it?"

- "Kind of, so you gonna have to warn me wethever you want to touch me." He winks, your hands still shaking. Yep, he's a flirt. 

- "And do you have a name?" You question, letting go of his hand. His expression changes a bit.

- "I do, but I can't say it." He seems to say the truth. You raise an eyebrow.

- "Is it a ghost thing?" 

- "Em, not at all. Just a thing of mine." 

- "Ok, but can you write it?" He tilts his head, thinking.

- "Never done it before, actually." He wraps up. You reach a notebook and a pen you had on your living room's table. "Here." You hold the stuff in front of him. He takes them and starts writing with the tongue out, focused. "Done!" He shows you the page. You process the information.

- "Beeeetleejuuiiiice? That's it? Beetlejuice?" You say, asking for the correct pronunciation of the symbols written on the paper (presumably letters). He nods.

He seemed to want to add something else when suddenly...

Beep beep beep. Beep beep beep.

You turn off your cell's alarm. Your clothes are ready. 

- "Ou, I have to pick my clothes from the laundry. Come back in a sec, alright?." You walk out the door without giving him time to say anything.

You run downstairs to get your clothes as soon as possible, but stop halfway.

A ghost?! You were chatting with a ghost like it was no big deal! Okay, paranormality was a topic that was touched on a lot in your upbringing, but everything has its limits. Were you curious? Of course you were. Is it a fucking weird situation? Absolutely. Were you still excited? Yes. You had lots of questions, and deserved answers. Anyways: the clothes.

You finish your path and enter the room. You proceed to pick up your clothes to realize that you don't have a single bag to carry them back home. O wow, you think. 

You try to grab all the garments in your hands without dropping any of them. While you were occupy, a familiar voice sounds behind you.

- "Good evening, Miss Y/LN ." Says Mr. Peterson, your landlord. You turn around abruptly.

- "Good evening Mr Peterson!" Before you could ask what brought him to the laundry room, he starts speaking.

- "I was on my way to your apartment as soon as I heard some commotion around here. I came because I assumed it was you." He makes a pause. "I was right." His expressionless face didn't change at any time.

- "A, yeah I was kind of busy and forgot to bring a bag for the clothing." A nervous laugh comes out of your mouth to relax that awkward scene.

- "Given your career choices, I doubt it." He exclaims. His lackluster face remains intact.

Just then, your desire to reply to that rude remark fades into the background as you see a familiar specter behind Mr. Peterson, staring at his huge glasses. You start mentally screaming.

- "W-Well, can I help you with anything?" You ask, trying to hide your nervousness. 

What is HE doing here?

Mr. Peterson is not the kind of person you want to get in your way. He wasn't that bad, he has helped you a few times. He was just rude. But there you were, contemplating how a ghost you've met  is breathing directly into Mr. P's glasses to make him wipe them off. Meanwhile, the old man was trying to explain what did he want from me.

- "I-" He stutters, somewhat annoyed by the strange and constant fogging of his glasses. He clears his throat and starts again. "I wanted to ask you about the new tenant." Beetlejuice's face shines.

- "I'm already looking for a new roommate but-" Beetlejuice points to itself as he whispers 'Me!', 'That's me!', 'You got ME!', flitting back and forth between you and your landlord.

- "But I'll need more time, Sir." You wait for his response, but just when it looked like he was about to complain about something, a hand goes through the older man's chest. You are left breathless for an instant. Beetlejuice winks at you, a beating heart in his hand. Mr. Peterson flinches.

- "Put it back!". You demand whispering, wide-eyed. Your landlord looks dizzy. "Now!!" He rolls his eyes and leaves the organ inside of the old man's chest. Mr. P seems to have awakened from a trance. You take advantage of his confusion.

- "Great chat Mr. Peterson, but I really need to fold these clothes before they get wrinkled. See ya later!" And you run off to your apartment, having grabbed the ghost by the collar of his shirt to drag him along with you. That's right, he's half in control.

You shut the door and leave the clothes on the floor. 

- "Aw, we were starting to have fun babes!" He complains, standing next to you. You look at him, furious.

- "FUN?! You almost killed the man who prevents me from sleeping on the street!"

- "Hey, that raisin is an asshole. Also, we could have come back sooner if you had told him you already had someone on the books." He tells you, with the nerve of the person who has all the reason in the world. You take a deep breath.

- "Look... I apreciate the intent to kill someone who is being slightly crude to me." He dusts off his shoulders. "But you can't do that to people." He looks away from you, with a frown on his face and his arms crossed like a toddler. You'll have to be diplomatic, so you add:

- "...At least in my presence?" He looks at you, and lets out a grunt.

- "Arg, fine." His arms still crossed. You get a closer look at his hands. His nails look like they were once painted, which gives you an idea.

Without saying anything, you go straight to the bathroom and start looking for something in the closet. Beetlejuice looks out, confused.

- "What are you up to?" 

With a manicure kit Amber gave you, and a few bottles of nail polish on your hands, you say:

- "If I fix your nails could we have a quiet conversation?"