"Okay, you're gonna do this. For real this time." The self-proclaimed 'Ghost with the Most' whispered with a slight tremble in his voice and a breathless sigh. He quickly ran his blood red fingertips through his shoulder-length blonde hair, greasy with over 500 years-worth of dirt, grime, and insect carcasses laced into it and then proceeding to give a sharp, anxious glance at the doorknob attached to the bathroom door. "For real this time." He repeated, reaching for it and resting his hand gently on top of it, like he was making amends with it.
Feeling a lightning flash of bravery running though his no longer functioning veins, he quickly furrowed his brows, opened the squeaky door and walked into the largely-unused room the fifth time, exuding over-confidence. Once he shut the door behind him, he glanced across the room and locked eyes with his adversary: the dust-caked bathtub- with its wolf-like claws splayed, warning him to stand back. Despite the creature's warning, he approached it slowly, letting his feigned courage conceal the truth that he was beyond terrified of it. After some quick hesitation, he made it to its edge without getting attacked. Yet. He let a small smile form, letting his crooked, scum-coated teeth protrude from his upper lip. This is the farthest I've made it all day, the ghost though proudly, maybe this won't be as bad as I thought. But even having tamed the wolf, he still seemed to carry the unwavering fear of her bite.
He then shed his signature black and white striped suit and traded it for nothing but a small white towel wrapped around his waist, its top matching the shape of his beer belly. That's step two. Okay. Good progress. Now all we have to do is turn on the water... Kneeling down slightly he looked at the faucet and slowly lifted his hand off his knee and inched it over to the knob with the letter 'W' carved into it. Simply for 'water', he supposed. But it could have also meant 'warm', since there was a second one with a letter 'C' on it next to it. What could have 'C' possibly meant other than 'Cool'? Cows? Cream pie? He scoffed at his stupidity. Warm was good though, but regardless of the water's temperature however, it was still water. With that thought in mind, as his fingertips inched closer and closer, he couldn't help feel like his anxiety was worsening. Something bubbled inside of him. It made him break out into a nervous sweat and although all of his organs had stopped working centuries prior and any sort of pain became nothing more than numbness, he couldn't help but think his heart was racing, and his stomach twisted and turned into tight, sickly knots. His mind wandered down the rabbit hole he thought he boarded up ages ago. It began showing him dreadful vignettes of the day he'd rather forget, constantly, and on repeat. No. No stop. No stop seriously. Please. Please, I'm begging you. DON'T. TOUCH. THAT. KNOB. he silently screamed at himself, forcing himself not to go through any needless misery.
But still, he had no desire to quit. No matter how scared I get, no matter how much I'm going to hate this, I can't stop now. I've made it this far, there's no point now. Remember, this is for Babes. He whispered 'Babes' aloud and immediately felt like a weight had been taken off his shoulders. There was just something about that pet name that made him feel safe- like nothing could ever harm him. All he had to do was say it and everything that bothered or scared him melted away. Reminding himself of Lydia made him think of tomorrow; it would be such a joyous day. Tomorrow would be the day they finally made everything official; after being in love for so long, they would finally say their vows and become Mr. and Mrs. Juice. She would finally be his and he would finally be hers, and hers alone. He fantasized about her: her beauty as she walked down the aisle to him, and the first kiss and love making they would share as a married couple. Oh, how he loved Lydia's kisses; her feather-soft lips pressed up against his own tenderly, her ivory skin gracing his cheek, and how she always tasted faintly of rose water- something he learned to love with time simply because it reminded him of her. All of it made his heart flutter. There was nothing in the world or Neitherworld that made his heart beat faster- or at all- quite like Lydia Deetz, and he wasn't about to let his fears of bathing take that prestigious title away from her.
Letting out another spectral equivalent to a sigh, he focused his attention on her. Smiling and feeling much calmer than before, he lifted his hand once more and rested it atop of the faucet's leftmost knob like it was his old friend. It was better, he was told, to not smell of fear when approaching a formidable creature. Approach it like you want to be its friend. And that's what he did. All for Babes. He thought as he turned the knob slightly to the opposite direction. No water came out of it. Maybe my touch is too light? He wondered as he tightened his grip. But even as he began to think he was showing the tub whose boss; he felt his fingers begin to tremble back and forth violently. Sweat was pouring faster down his face as the knob slowly creaked a few centimeters to the right at a time. Once he reached halfway, a trickle of water appeared from the spout and began warming up the room. Though the heat was inviting, the water itself was quite the opposite. As it trickled out of the faucet, it hissed ugly things at him; 'you drowned' seemed to be its obvious favorite. Panicking, he grabbed violently and awkwardly for the knob with both hands shutting the water off immediately and collapsing onto the floor opposite from the tub panting, moaning, trembling and sobbing to the point where his own tears began to scare him, whisper-screaming for mercy.
"I CAN'T DO IT. I CAN'T DO IT. NO, I CAN'T DO IT, I CAN'T…" he wept aloud, holding his head in his hands and rocking slightly until his words became obscured by his sobs.
Suddenly, the door to the bathroom squeaked and groaned open, letting the chill of the rest of the house, and a soft moonlight coming from a nearby hallway window engulfed the doorway in a silvery dome. A figure emerged from the darkness. Light footsteps padded on the sticky tile floor until he could feel the warmth of another body- a living one- radiating against his own. It stood there for a few seconds watching him before reaching down and resting its hand atop of his left shoulder. Though the touch was gentle- and familiar-, it still made him practically jump out of his own rotting skin. Startled, he violently raised his head off of his arms and locked his fearful eyes to that of the figure's. It was Lydia. That alone made his panic soften, but only slightly.
"B-Beetlejuice?" she asked, visibly concerned, "Are you okay?"
Her ghostly fiancé didn't say a word, but something in his tear-flooded yellow eyes told Lydia that he wasn't okay, and that he was so glad she came because he needed her now more than ever.
Looking at him tenderly, future Mrs. Juice got down on the floor next to her husband-to-be and wrapped her arms around his bare chest and rested her head on one of his shoulders. Slowly, he returned the embrace, his clawed fingertips digging into her nightshirt.
"I-I'm sorry, Babes…" he whimpered through tears, "I-I'm so sorry."
"Beej, honey, what are you talking about?" she cooed, reaching up to run one of her hands into Beetlejuice's hair, "You didn't do anything wrong…" She then proceeded to add "to my knowledge" jokingly, though aware that this was certainly not the time to be making lighthearted comments.
She then took a better look at him and noticed his suit jacket, pants, and undershirt laying in a pile behind her near where the inner hinges of the door were bolted into the wall, and the moth-eaten bath towel carelessly wrapped around his waist. Her heart jumped for a second. She paused before adding: "No… Beetlejuice… You weren't actually considering… for me… were you?" She was shell-shocked. Even without saying the three magic words 'taking a bath', Beetlejuice knew exactly what she was trying to say.
"Yes. I was. And I was going to do it for you, Babes. And I stopped myself… because I'm a coward…" he whimpered in a trembling voice unlike any Lydia had ever heard from him. It was heart-wrenching to see him so upset. "I'm sorry…"
Lydia sat there, cradling her panicking husband-to-be in her arms, staring at herself in the grimy bathroom mirror across from her having no idea how she was supposed to feel. In some ways, she felt touched that Beetlejuice felt the need to try to convince himself that bathing wasn't as bad as he said it was so that he didn't smell (or at least didn't smell as pungently as usual) of weeks-old garbage and rotting flesh on their wedding day, but at the same time, even though he had done it on his own volition (or 'Will-Power' rather), she couldn't help but feel like she was the ultimate reason for the panic attack he was currently trying to recover from. And with that guilty feeling circulating through her body, her own eyes began to well up and sparkle as she listened to his quiet sobs.
"No, Beetlejuice…" Lydia muttered, tears silently streaming down her cheeks, "I'm sorry…"
"W-what? No…"
"It's not your fault. It's mine." She let out a shaky sigh and continued: "Beetlejuice, as much as I don't particularly love the fact that you are practically the most putrid, foul-smelling being living or dead I have ever met, I, ultimately, love you."
"What are you saying?" he begged, sniffling slightly, trying and failing to release some of the tension he built up in his shoulders.
Lydia practically lost it then: "What I mean, Beetlejuice, that I don't care at all how bad you smell because I love you… The way you are… Don't change- not for your parents, not for your brother, not for your neighbors, not for anybody, not even for me. Especially not for me… Because the Beetlejuice I fell in love with and the Beetlejuice I plan on marrying tomorrow smells like a heap of flaming garbage… And the fact that he does doesn't stop me from wanting to spend eternity with him."
Beetlejuice softened his grip on Lydia's night shirt and looked up sheepishly at her, "You serious, Babes?" he croaked.
Lydia simply answered with a 'mm-hum' and a violent up and down shake of her head, she was too busy trying to stop herself from reducing herself to a weepy mess. That was the last thing Beetlejuice needed right now.
Suddenly, for the first time in what felt like decades, Beetlejuice let out a smile and began to laugh a little though he was still visibly crying, he wanted to say something but had no idea how to say it, instead he picked himself off the floor, rested his hands on both sides of her face and kissed her softly for a few seconds. Both their bodies let go of the tension building up inside them. No wonder he loved Lydia's kisses so much: they were his antidote. "Thank you…" he whispered as he pulled away, softly nuzzling the tip of her nose with his own.
Lydia smiled too, "You're welcome baby. I meant everything I said."
"Everything?" he asked her playfully, trying to lighten the overbearing atmosphere that still seemed to surround them, "Cos, I hate to break it to ya, but I've already changed…"
Lydia's heart thumped nervously, "W-what do you mean you've 'already changed'?"
"Babes, I'm naked." He let out a semi-nervous laugh.
Lydia laughed back: "Ugh, bad joke… and to be honest with you, I almost totally forgot you weren't wearing any clothes right now…"
"Well, nothing except for a bath towel."
"Beetlejuice, that fell off few minutes ago…" she laughed even harder by now.
Embarrassed, the ghost's pupils dilated his cheeks turned from pale purple to fire engine red as he ripped the opposite towel off of its rack so hard that it broke off the wall and positioned it to cover his entire body, holding it against him by bringing his knees up to his chest, his eyes still watering slightly as his wife-to-be broke into hysterics- the good kind.
Lydia smiled as she tried to regain her breath, "Aw, BJ, you're precious, you know that?"
"Yeah, yeah." He mocked with a sniffle, his cheeks somehow finding a way to turn redder.
"You still really want to take that bath?"
Beetlejuice paused for a second, "Hum… Let me think… No. No, not in particular."
"Awww… I figured…" she kissed his forehead and handed him the carelessly-folded pile of magenta bug-print pajamas that lay strewn out all over the stained bathmat, "That's my BJ. Now go get dressed and come to bed."
"Okay." He whispered in a surprisingly gentle voice as Lydia closed the door to give him his privacy. As he grabbed ahold of the button-down nightshirt, Beetlejuice smiled: actually smiled. He let his final tear fall and as he got ready for the evening, all the anger, the panic- everything that previously ate away at him- subsided with that last droplet of salty water escaping his tired eyes. All he could think of now was Lydia's kisses.