Chapter Thirty-Seven: Mental Gymnastics
Lydia stepped out of the shower, wrapping herself in a towel as she tiptoed back to her bedroom, eyeing the living room along the way. Beetlejuice was still laying on his back in the floor with an empty beer held loosely in his grasp. At least things were peaceful for now, she mused. She reasoned that it would only be a matter of time before he'd be awake and back to his trademark douchebaggery in no time. Whether he remembered his previous shenanigans was to be determined, however. She closed the door behind herself, now muddling through her closet to find something that wasn't black and didn't reek of funeral attire. "I need to get a new wardrobe..." she muttered to herself, before finding a dark grey track suit. "Close enough." she shrugged, resigning herself to a slightly less depressive color.
She quietly paced about her apartment, staring at his literally lifeless body as she gently pulled the empty beer from his grasp and dumped it in the garbage can, before sliding it back into place. At least he didn't trash the place this time, she shrugged to herself, celebrating the little victories. Lydia folded her arms across her chest, looking him over one final time, still completely dumbfounded that her enemy was somehow in some sort of like with her? Infatuation? Lust? Mortal hatred? Love? Lydia shook her head. That was enough self-torture for the moment, she figured, before gently stepping away to resign herself to her bedroom.
...
Evening began fading into night as Lydia pulled her trench coat tightly around herself, small bags of leftover Chinese food in hand. It was nice to take herself out to binge on a buffet of cheap, greasy, carb-filled goodness. However, as soon as she reached the gigantic apartment complex that was still her current residence, she began to feel that strange tension build inside herself again. Surely, he'd be awake by now, right?
She entered the building and took the large, glass elevator to her floor, milling over just what the hell she was going to do about her self-proclaimed enemy's plot of extreme vengeance. Honestly, it should have been easy. She just had to say it. Three times and he'd be a goner. Lydia knew that would've been the remotely intelligent thing to do. Why wasn't she saying it?
She stepped off and slowed her pace as she made her way down the long corridor, inwardly kind of dreading the possible encounter. Lydia tried to shake it off, yet when she opened the door, she was reminded of just why she was filled with such dread in the first place.
Beetlejuice stood in front of her, rubbing the back of his head and wincing. "There you are, Deetz."
"Yeah. I just went out to get some food." she shrugged, trying to act natural and not like he'd spilled the most disturbing information possible the night before.
"Ugh. Fuckin' breather food. Can ya like, I dunno, get that shit outta muh face before I hurl?" he grouched, though he seemed to show no sign of knowing what he'd done. He had been pretty trashed, after all.
"Oh, yeah. Sure." Lydia nodded, placing the offending leftovers in her fridge. "Um, did you just wake up?" she asked, trying not to sound too suspicious.
"Whaddayathink?!" he snapped, becoming his usual, cranky asshole self. "Why the fuck did ya leave my ass on the floor?" he quipped indignantly, as if he'd actually expected her to drag his obviously larger self onto a piece of furniture or something.
"Sorry, BJ. I... couldn't get you up. Are you feeling any better?" she asked, eyeing him a bit. He looked like hell, even for a dead guy.
"Eh...I'm here..." he grunted, that defeated undertone falling through his voice again. "Kinda got no choice now." he muttered to himself, nearly under his breath.
Why was she feeling actual sympathy for him? Shouldn't she be ready to torment him just like he'd planned to do to her? Lydia gazed at him a moment, wondering just why she always gave him so much slack, even more so now, since she was not in mentally insane territory at the moment.
"What?!" he grouched again, plopping himself at her table. He seemed so absolutely miserable. Nobody even remotely happy would be that damned spiteful.
"I'm sorry about Trixy." she slid a chair up close to him, somehow feeling the need to comfort him. She then realized she must've been a glutton for punishment for even bringing it up.
"Fuck, you mean I told ya?" he grouched, pulling a cigarette out of thin air as he slid a grimy hand down his face. "I really was trashed, huh?" A slight smirk fell across his features, before he seemed to catch himself and begin scowling again. He then turned his glare to her. "I tell ya anything else, er...?"
"You told me they threatened you and you had to leave. I couldn't get anything else out of you." she shrugged, trying to act as if that was the end of it, and halfway wishing it was. Maybe everything would have been easier if she didn't know how he'd really felt. Truthfully, she didn't know what to think. She hadn't even begun to process it.
"Eh, that's all there is to know." he shrugged, flicking his ashes all over her clean table as he lied through his green teeth.
Lydia cleared her throat, eyeing the offending substance. "BJ, could you juice an ashtray under you or something?" she asked hesitantly.
At that point, he literally shot fuck you missiles at her face with his eyes, as he sniggered, flicking more ashes on her table. "Nah. Don't think I will."
God, he was an ass. He really loved to provoke her, and she'd just given him another way to do so. "Okay." she shrugged, trying her best to look unphased. It was the best she could do, given he wanted to piss her off. Of course, two could play the game of provocation. "So, are you still mad at me?" she blurted out, hoping he'd both answer and be really uncomfortable, since that weird way he felt about her was an obvious weak spot for him.
"Mad? The fuck're you talkin' about?" his brow furrowed in earnest. Obviously, the gigantic hangover was still clouding his memory.
"BJ. You shoved me back here. Remember?" she raised a brow, and at that very moment, she could see the exact second that everything came back to him. His expression of confusion took a sharp turn back to a deep glare.
"You need to leave shit alone." he growled, taking his cigarette from his lips and putting it out on her table just to spite her. It wasn't that she actually needed his answer. She already had it. She just wanted to put him on the spot, and perhaps study him in the process. Why, she still had not the slightest. Maybe she just wanted him to be nice for once. Maybe she'd like an actual friend and not a ghost hell-bent on wrecking her life. Maybe things could actually be different between them, if he'd let it.
"You really don't want to talk to me, do you? I won't judge you for it." she blurted out, inwardly cringing once she realized it sounded a bit like begging. The scary thing was, she probably wouldn't judge him. She'd been screwed up enough for a few lifetimes. She didn't consider herself any sort of moral standard.
What would've been a chance to extend an olive branch to anyone else was apparently an insult to none other than the poltergeist himself. "Change the subject, Deetz." Beetle spoke, this time lower and more hostile than even she was used to. It was a nerve she would be wise to step away from for the time being.
"Fine. I-I guess your plan worked. You really did piss Trixy off this time." Lydia nervously tried to steer back onto his current home eviction situation, only to realize she sounded unintentionally sarcastic.
"Yeah, no shit! You wanna rub it in some more, er...?" he huffed indignantly, and she could tell that the subject did actually bother him.
"I wasn't. I just mean you really got to her, just like you wanted." Lydia spoke again, though this time he simply interrupted her with a fist slamming on her table and causing her to flinch.
"Fuck, Deetz! What part of shut the fuck up don't ya understand?!" he finally jumped up out of his seat, attempting to stomp off into another room, only for Lydia to do the strangest thing imaginable.
"WAIT!" she shouted out, finding her hand now grasping his forearm in response to his predictable tantrum. Maybe she was still more mentally unstable than she'd realized to do such a bizarre thing.
At that moment the poltergeist looked like he'd been hit with a tazer to the face. "What?" Okay, he'd been caught off guard. Now, she had to gain the upper hand somehow. She just wanted him to talk to her. Why did she want that so badly?
Lydia stood up, not letting him go just yet. "Talk to me, BJ. Please?" she asked, now shamelessly begging while simultaneously realizing that it was no way to gain control. It was that moment that things lined up and clicked, at least a little. She didn't want to have to send him away, and that's just what would happen if he didn't start giving in a little.
Suddenly, he seemed to come back to himself, yanking his arm away from her. "Give it a rest, Deetz!" he shouted, before getting in her face again. "Look, you can stop the nice girl bullshit. Don't pretend you an' me are anything other than what we are now!"
"And just what is that, BJ?" Lydia asked apprehensively, though she found herself dying to know what he had to say.
"NOTHING! This is nothin' more than a business deal, Deetz! We're roommates! Ya called on me, and I'm here!" he continued ranting, and though she knew the truth, somehow it still hurt.
As a matter of fact, it stung Lydia's insides enough to make her open her mouth again, and this time, it happened to be just the right thing to say. "Maybe to you."
"Eh, wut?" Beetlejuice's eyebrows shot up like they were going to launch into orbit. "The fuck is that s'posed to mean?"
Lydia saw that he was clearly baffled. His face fell a bit slack, and the rage fell back a bit which was quite telling. Of course, two could play at the whole vagueness thing. "I just mean that I don't see it that way. We aren't just roommates." she shrugged, not daring to tell him anything else.
"...And?" he raised a brow, his tone somehow giving him away, despite being completely unaware of it. No man, alive or dead, would even care if they weren't at least a bit curious, and Lydia knew that.
She wasn't very keen on manipulation, but if it was for the greater good, then she'd result to it. She simply smiled, stepping up to him and grabbing his cold, mossy hand. "You know what we are, BJ." she bluffed, actually having no idea what he thought about that. Whatever it was, she'd find out.
Lydia studied him a moment, feeling bold enough to lock eyes with him and scrutinize his every move. He looked genuinely taken aback, if only for a second. However, in half a millisecond he'd snapped right back into the facade she knew he'd created. A terrifyingly arrogant smirk began to come over his features. He took his other cold hand and placed it under her chin, pulling her close to him. As a matter of fact, Lydia was so close she began to wonder if he'd shove his nasty tongue down her throat. Fortunately, he didn't.
Unfortunately, however, he did speak, and that was enough. "Nice try, Deetz." he chuckled darkly, before shoving her away and stomping back into her living room.
Lydia rolled her eyes, sighing in frustration. She really didn't want to result to threatening him, but he needed to actually be civil to her, if nothing else. She found herself bordering on being just as pissed off as he usually was. She stomped up behind him, grabbing his arm again.
"Look, I told yer ass to quit!" Beetle jerked away again, obviously growing angrier.
"NO!" she huffed, now teetering into exasperation. She'd already determined she wouldn't use his name against him unless it was quite literally, life or death, but she had to do something to get it through his head that he was being an idiot for continuing to treat her that way. "That's it. You want me to say it, don't you?"
At that moment, he genuinely paused again, as if actually waiting for her response. Was he being, dare she say, hopeful? Or was he a finger snap away from lighting her face on fire? There was only one way to find out.
"You know I care about you. That's pretty obvious." she spoke in truth, however never really implying anything romantic. Maybe if he was alive, but he was very, very dead and that was very, very impossible. Why did she even go there?
"Eh...You should probably keep that one to yerself..." he muttered, the anger instantly vanishing from him.
"So, you don't care about me?" she continued pressing him, hoping for something, ANYTHING other than being bitched at and provoked constantly. It was amazing how much she'd actually taken his douchey behavior before. As much as she was grateful that he'd come back around, even she had her limits. Maybe this was her breaking point.
In an instant, the sheer, unadulterated look of defeat seemed to wash over him again. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. "Can ya just let it go?" he asked, and in that moment, she began to feel that pang of sympathy for him again. Why was she such a dope? He'd already drunkenly told her his malevolent intentions. Of course, that was exactly why he appeared so defeated. He was showing signs of guilt. She could read it all over his face. He was cracking, and she was finally catching onto that.
Somehow, his misery was enough for Lydia to let him win. She just couldn't bring herself to be happy with stomping on him while he was so obviously down. Sure, he was an asshole, but that didn't erase the fact that he always helped her in some way or another, and he always came through. Of course she cared. That was always her greatest weakness. "Okay, BJ. If you say so." she sighed.
"Good. Now leave it the fuck alone." he grunted, before plunking down on her sofa and taking up the whole thing, arms now behind his head while his feet dangled off the other end. That was a clear nonverbal way of telling her to fuck right off and get away from him, considering he wasn't going to give her any space to even sit in the same room with him.
Okay, so he was back to being mean. "On one condition..." Lydia frowned, feeling fed up with being griped at.
"And just what the hell is that?" he scoffed.
"Could you be a little nicer to me?" she asked, though the evil grin on his face told her that was a dumb shit question. Of course it was.
"Pffft!" Beetle began to cackle hysterically. "I already told ya, Deetz. I ain't a nice guy!"
Lydia swallowed back her frustration, before trying one last attempt to figure her adversary out. "Then do me a favor, BJ. Tell me what you want me to do. If I'm rude, you hate me. If I'm nice, you hate me. If I EXIST, you hate me! What do you want from me?"
"Easy, Deetz! I don't give a fuck what ya do. I'm livin' here rent free!" he cackled, and she realized she'd have to finally do what the old man had said and let go. Beetle was simply too guarded and full of resentment to crack. And at that moment, she realized she was still holding on way too much, and in turn she was being too cautious and calculating. It was her turn to fully take control back, and that was by not giving a fuck what came out of her mouth.
"Understood. Well, I'll leave you to it, then. It's getting late, anyway." she shrugged, stepping out of his view as she made it to her bedroom door. "Goodnight, BJ! Love you!" she purposely called out, smirking to herself as she stepped inside, closing herself in.
She barely finished pulling up her pajamas when she heard a loud knock on her bedroom door, startling her enough to make her stumble a bit on her way over to it. She slowly turned the knob, cracking it open just a fraction.
Beetlejuice was staring at her from the other side, eyes narrowed and suspicious. "What the fuck did you just say?"
