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31_days2013-05-03 07:07 am
bane-6.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2013-05-03 07:07 am
May 3 [Beetlejuice] [First Anniversary]
Title: First Anniversary
Day/Theme: 3. he was on the mend, more broken than I'd ever been
Series: Beetlejuice
Character/Pairing: Beetlejuice/Lydia
Rating: pg
It was a year to the day, to the hour really. Her 'wedding' anniversary. She had mulled it over since that day and as glad as she had been to be saved and safe from him, she knew she had cheated. So had he, of course, several times. She didn't owe him anything. She had agreed to marry him, and even if she had balked at the alter, she had had that right. Right?
She had kept the ring.
As soon as the thought of it crossed her mind, her mirror cracked. It startled her up off her bed and she ventured close enough to see what might have broken it. Her reflection was distorted for a moment, but then its head jerked up and the eyes were not hers. She stumbled back and it leered at her, teeth like Stonehenge grinding into a feral grimace as the rest of him bled into her reflection.
She squeaked his name before she could stop herself.
"Say it," he hissed and it fell off her tongue again. He slammed his palm against his side of the mirror and his whole being writhed with what looked like pain. Her hand raised up too, maybe in imitation of his movement since he was using her reflection. He was contorting, like he was fighting a heavy current to cling to the glass.
She felt trapped in a bubble of stillness.
If he could break through the glass, he could break through the bubble, but not unless she said anything. He looked like he had been torn apart and had pulled himself back together piece by piece, holding together with spit and spiderwebs. He couldn't get out unless she said his name again. She didn't have to. She watched him struggle, feeling nothing. She didn't have to feel anything. He looked frantic and desperate enough for both of them.
She said his name the third time without being asked.
He fell through to land on the floor at her feet. He lay there for a moment and then struggled to get up. Nothing seemed to work. His swagger and bravado were gone. He grunted and hissed and clawed up the side of her dresser until he was upright and then leaned back against it.
She just watched him.
He had always looked like death. Now he looked like something worse. He was still fishbelly pale, but the old greenish crud was charred and blackened. His eyes were still toxic yellow, but the malice in them had paled into trauma. He glared at her with them anyway. He didn't need to breathe, but he was sucking in deep breaths. It seemed to do him good, settled him down and let him get a better grip on all his pieces.
She sat down on her bed again and waited.
He grimaced again, maybe giving up on her being the one to break the silence and went rummaging in his pockets. While she watched, he rolled two cigarettes and stuck one in his mouth. He lit it with a spark from his fingertip and then used it to light the second one. He held that one out to her.
She took it, but didn't bring it anywhere near her mouth.
"First anniversary is paper, right?" he said, all grit and rock salt. Acceptance must've been enough, because he relaxed back against her dresser and took a long drag. He was still watching her for any reaction, but she didn't give him any.
"Honey," he said after a long moment. "I'm home.
Day/Theme: 3. he was on the mend, more broken than I'd ever been
Series: Beetlejuice
Character/Pairing: Beetlejuice/Lydia
Rating: pg
It was a year to the day, to the hour really. Her 'wedding' anniversary. She had mulled it over since that day and as glad as she had been to be saved and safe from him, she knew she had cheated. So had he, of course, several times. She didn't owe him anything. She had agreed to marry him, and even if she had balked at the alter, she had had that right. Right?
She had kept the ring.
As soon as the thought of it crossed her mind, her mirror cracked. It startled her up off her bed and she ventured close enough to see what might have broken it. Her reflection was distorted for a moment, but then its head jerked up and the eyes were not hers. She stumbled back and it leered at her, teeth like Stonehenge grinding into a feral grimace as the rest of him bled into her reflection.
She squeaked his name before she could stop herself.
"Say it," he hissed and it fell off her tongue again. He slammed his palm against his side of the mirror and his whole being writhed with what looked like pain. Her hand raised up too, maybe in imitation of his movement since he was using her reflection. He was contorting, like he was fighting a heavy current to cling to the glass.
She felt trapped in a bubble of stillness.
If he could break through the glass, he could break through the bubble, but not unless she said anything. He looked like he had been torn apart and had pulled himself back together piece by piece, holding together with spit and spiderwebs. He couldn't get out unless she said his name again. She didn't have to. She watched him struggle, feeling nothing. She didn't have to feel anything. He looked frantic and desperate enough for both of them.
She said his name the third time without being asked.
He fell through to land on the floor at her feet. He lay there for a moment and then struggled to get up. Nothing seemed to work. His swagger and bravado were gone. He grunted and hissed and clawed up the side of her dresser until he was upright and then leaned back against it.
She just watched him.
He had always looked like death. Now he looked like something worse. He was still fishbelly pale, but the old greenish crud was charred and blackened. His eyes were still toxic yellow, but the malice in them had paled into trauma. He glared at her with them anyway. He didn't need to breathe, but he was sucking in deep breaths. It seemed to do him good, settled him down and let him get a better grip on all his pieces.
She sat down on her bed again and waited.
He grimaced again, maybe giving up on her being the one to break the silence and went rummaging in his pockets. While she watched, he rolled two cigarettes and stuck one in his mouth. He lit it with a spark from his fingertip and then used it to light the second one. He held that one out to her.
She took it, but didn't bring it anywhere near her mouth.
"First anniversary is paper, right?" he said, all grit and rock salt. Acceptance must've been enough, because he relaxed back against her dresser and took a long drag. He was still watching her for any reaction, but she didn't give him any.
"Honey," he said after a long moment. "I'm home.