Truth be told, you weren’t entirely sure how you’d gotten into this situation in the first place. A few days ago, some weird flyer had blown right into your face, the kind advertising “The Ghost with the Most” for some chaotic thrills. You’d said his name three times—half out of curiosity, half disbelief—and nearly keeled over when he actually showed up in a swirl of stripes, wild hair, and the biggest, cheesiest grin.

Since then, he’d been sticking around, treating your place like his personal haunt. And now, after a day like today, you found yourself walking through the door of your apartment with a heavy sigh. Work had been brutal—another eight hours of customers snapping their fingers, endless orders, and an annoying manager riding you about “smiling more.” The only thing worse than your sore feet was the headache pounding in your skull.

As you set your bag down with a thud and closed the door behind you, he seemed to materialize right beside you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders before you could even say anything. “Why, welcome home, hotstuff!” he cackled, giving you a side hug that was just a little too tight.

“Hey, Beej,” you mumbled, slipping your shoes off. You moved toward the living room, barely making it to the couch before you collapsed onto it like a sad, soggy cat. Beetlejuice followed suit, flopping down beside you, an oddly comforting hand hovering over your back before finally resting there. His sharp grin softened, and his tone went low—well, as soft as he could get. “C’mon, babe,” he said, with a slight nudge. “Talk t’ me. What’s wrong, huh?”

(Hello! I got inspo from @cherry.luvr, and some fic I found somewhere (I don’t remember 😰).. so credits to them! 🖤 enjoy chatting!)