Hullo, my little boils and ghouls. :D I know this is a short chapter, but I wanted to get what I had up, and I think it's a good little chapter, even if it's a teeny bit short. :) So please, enjoy this new chapter of "Confused Feelings" =D
It had been about an hour since Jacques had told Beetlejuice about his lost love. Since then, Jacques had gone to bed, saying he was tired and had to get up quite early in the morning for a jog. Beetlejuice thought differently and that all the smoke had gotten to him and made the skeleton sick, as his cheek bones looked oddly green when he noticeably stumbled to his room, making Beetlejuice chuckle to himself.
Now the spectacular specter sat outside in quite the dilapidated lawn bench rocker, under those bright stars Jacques had gone on so much about, the embers on the end of his cig showing so brightly in the night. It flashed slightly as he inhaled deeply, blowing the smoke out of his nose a few seconds later, his hand fiddling with the twisted violet colored arm of the rocker bench, his other arm spread out on the back of the dull lime rind color cushions, rocking himself on the bench without really even knowing he was doing so.
"Do I really like Lyds more than just a friend?" It just popped out of his mouth as he was trying to think if he was ready to analyze the question and his feelings. He jumped a tad bit, giving his face a quick slap, shocked a bit that he had heard his voice asking that question, "Whoa, where'd that come from? Am I really ready to think this through?" he thought for a few seconds, contemplating what he was getting himself into by going into these thoughts of his best pal.
"So . . . Do I?" He answered by asking it again, leaning back, slowly rocking, taking another puff of his cigarette, blowing it out at such a leisurely pace. But abruptly, he slapped his face again, a livid expression forming on his face as he tossed the cigarette on the ground, stomping it roughly, the look turning more sour on his face by the second.
"What the hell am I saying? How could I like Lyds more than a friend? Especially when anything love related just drives me up the wall." as he said this, he appeared in a little black and white striped car, smaller than a go-kart, literally driving up the side of the roadhouse wall, and back down again, landing in the rocker, the car driving off itself, disappearing with a 'pop' sound.
His sour face soon turned into a thoughtful expression, leaning forward, placing his chin in his hand again as he kept thinking about Lydia, "But . . . She's gotten me to do things I never would have done before I met her. Maybe . . . I could think about," he stopped a second, gulping hard, "Love kind of things." he groans, leaning back, putting his hands over his pale, lightly purple tinted face, those hands running kind of roughly through his dirty blonde shoulder length hair, a few insects and unrecognizable objects falling about as his hands went through. His thoughts wandered to all those times of being together with Lydia. How many times he had helped her in her life, like with Spooky Tree, or her haunted house for her school's carnival, he had never helped anyone like that before . . . Though, she had probably helped him even more so when it came to getting out of trouble. Like with his neighbors, the ghouls and monsters of the Neitherworld, not to mention, all those times she had helped him escape sandworms. How many times had be played 'Mr. Beetleman'? . . . How many times had he transformed himself into Betty Juice just so he could hang out with Lydia? How many times did he have the gull to transform himself into an actual family member just to spend a little while more with his close friend? How many times did he not want her to go home?
"Way too many times to count." he answered to himself softly, "How could I like Lyds more than what we have now? . . . Though," he sighed softly, his hands fiddling with his tie as he kept thinking out loud to himself, "That small incident a little over a year ago happened," he couldn't bring himself to say that he almost married Lydia, it was one of the only things that he thought was wrong of him to do. After thinking it over, of course, "But come on, I was desperate! I wanted out," He didn't exactly know who he was trying to get to believe him, as the streets by the roadhouse were always so quiet. Maybe he was trying to convince himself, "What does it matter now, though? I go out into the living world pretty much everyday . . . Thanks to Lyds, I get to hang out there, and I get to hang out with a girl that understands me," he pauses a second, his hands going under his chin, holding his head up, a smile coming to his pale face as his mind really started to think about everything, "Who really understands me, and accepts all my grossness and quirks as they are. . . Not to mention, she wanted to apologize herself for when she didn't . . . "stay" with me. What kind of girl does that?" He sighed a little sigh, running his red tipped fingers through his hair once again, looking down at the ground, not noticing a beetle wandering on by as he was so deep in thought.
"So," He breathed in deeply, letting it out unhurriedly, biting his lip in thought, "Maybe . . . I do like Lyds more than a friend," if it could, his heart would be beating faster than it ever had, "Maybe not love, but I do have an attraction towards her." he snorted a little bit, not fully wanting to acknowledge all of his feelings at once.
"But how could I like her like that? She's so young, I mean, she's only fourteen, almost fifteen, she's only a kid." he shuddered the tiniest bit, feeling disgusting, and not his 'good' kind of disgusting either, "I may be a pervert, but I'm not that bad." he snorted again, a new lit cigarette popped into his mouth after, drawing in the smoke deep within himself, blowing it out so very slowly as he stared off down the street.
"Why couldn't Lydia be a few years older? I wouldn't feel so much like a pervert then," he tilted his head to the side as he thought about it, the lit cig hanging from his lip, seeming to forget that he had it. . . Could he wait a few years? Suddenly, his head popped into a light bulb, his green teeth showing hugely as his light bulb head grinned from ear to ear.
"I'll wait a few years, yeah, that's what I'll do. Wait until she's an adult and explain how I feel then. Then," He kept going on, his light bulb head turning back into his normal one, "If these feelings are nothing but my imagination, I'll have nothing to worry about!" He started cackling, the cigarette falling from his mouth and onto the ground, cackling even more. They soon died down as he slumped back into the bench rocker, a smile on his lips as he thought his plan was pure genius. That triumphant smile soon turned into a bit of a worrying frown though as he instinctively snuffed out the cig on the ground with his boot clad foot.
"Can I wait a few years, is the question here." He asked himself, putting his hands behind his head. That frown disappeared just as quickly as it had come, though, Beetlejuice cackling softly to himself, "What's a few years to a dead man?" He cackled a little more, trying not to think of anything else as he sat there, staring off onto the long road before him, not being able to help but let a little thought here and there sneak into his head.
So, maybe the movie aspect will be in here a teeny bit more than what I first planned. Goodness gracious me. D: :D I'm changing the movie aspect a little bit though when I get a bit more into it, because I can, you can do anything in fanfiction. :D lmao Hope you liked this chapter, kiddies, bye bye for now. :D