Chapter Text
The moon hung low over the small, quiet graveyard, its silver light casting long, crooked shadows across the mossy headstones. Lydia adjusted the strap of her camera and stepped carefully between the rows of graves, her black boots crunching softly on the gravel path. The cold night air nipped at her exposed face and fingers, but she didn’t mind. The chill was comforting, like a whisper from the other side.
"Well, this beats another evening listening to Dad's endless house renovations," she muttered under her breath, her voice carrying a wry edge. "At least the dead know when to be quiet."
Her camera clicked as she snapped a photo of a particularly twisted tree draped in mist, its gnarled branches reaching out like skeletal fingers. She paused and lowered the camera, tilting her head to study the scene.
"I wonder what your story is," she mused aloud, addressing no one in particular. "Who are you, resting here under all this stone and earth? And would you mind if I stuck around for a while?"
Lydia let out a small sigh and sat down on the edge of a cracked tombstone, pulling her notebook from the pocket of her oversized coat. She flipped it open, her pen poised to scribble something—anything—that might capture the strange feeling of the place.
"This is so much better than the living room," she muttered as she wrote those very words down.
The graveyard was vacant, but there was a certain energy to it that someone like Lydia could feel. One person in particular sensed her, and noticing that they were close in age, he approached her. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame for whatever reason, and her choice of style intrigued him as he got closer.
Lydia was so engrossed with writing in her notebook, so lost in her own little world, that she didn't notice the figure approaching her at first. She finally glanced up as she sensed a presence nearby. Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn't show any outward signs of alarm. She'd been expecting some sort of supernatural encounter on this midnight adventure, and perhaps this was it.
"Hey there," she greeted simply, her voice quiet yet calm.
"Hey?" he said, sounding confused, but looking like he had just been rescued from some desert island.
Lydia closed her notebook before tucking it back into her coat pocket. She took in the boy before her with a mix of curiosity and a hint of amusement. Most people wouldn't pick up on the subtle shift in energy that surrounds someone on the brink of the supernatural. But she clearly was not like most people.
"You're not from around here, are you?" she replied, more of a statement than a question. Her eyes, keen and inquisitive.
He blinked slowly, then petered out a nervous little laugh to try and ease the tension he created by acting awkward.
"I am... but you're not. I can tell," he observed, gesturing vaguely to her whole getup. He was still trying to figure her out, now that he was up close.
Lydia let out a soft chuckle, her fingers idly twirling the strap of her camera. She was used to being an oddity, a misfit in her own neighborhood. But she didn't feel any judgment coming off of this stranger. In fact, he seemed just as intrigued by her as she was by him.
"And what gave it away?" she asked playfully. "My stunning sense of fashion, perhaps, or the fact that my house is a construction site?"
The blonde boy laughed, chewing his lip as he watched her gesture to herself and then to her house with a flourish.
"A little of both, but I did notice you guys moved in a couple days ago..." he trailed off, then tried to play it cool, "You like to hang out around dead people?"
"You could say that," Lydia replied, her dark eyes twinkling with a touch of the moonlight. "I'm what you would call 'morbidly inclined'. Spirits and I get along great. And this," she gestured to the graveyard around them, "is like a second home to me. The dead are good company, you know? Much less annoying than the living."
Her explanations made a smile come to his face. He was amused at the idea of the place he was bound to being a second home to her or a source of comfort, where it often felt like a prison to him, but he kept those thoughts to himself.
"I suppose you're right," he admitted, "but there are some pretty annoying spirits out there," he said, sounding way too sure of himself. But he probably just came off as someone who knew a lot about the paranormal.
Lydia's lips curled into a smirk, but it didn't seem like she was onto him, so he decided to lead with another question, "What's your name, ghost whisperer?"
She tilted her head slightly, looking the boy over as she weighed her next word carefully. "The name's Lydia. Lydia Deetz. What about you?"
Her name was so fitting and his was so plain. "Brian Kelly," he said with a bow that made her grin.
"Brian," Lydia repeated, the name rolling off her tongue in a melodic way. "It's nice to meet you, Brian Kelly." Her gaze lingered on his face for a moment before she glanced away, seemingly deep in thought.
An idea was starting to form in her mind, a way to weave this chance encounter into her nightly ritual. She turned back to face him and cocked her head slightly.
"Tell me, Brian, are you up for a midnight stroll through the cemetery? I feel like this place has more to show us tonight than just our own shadows."
He thought her pale face looked quite nice, the way it caught the moonlight. It made his chest feel tight suddenly and his breath caught in his throat. He figured it had been quite some time since he had talked to a girl and he never saw himself getting the chance to do it again. Especially not one his age and especially not one he could eventually maybe tell he wasn't actually alive.
As they walked among the ancient graves and crumbling mausoleums, Lydia found herself drawn to Brian's presence. There was a subtle spark, a connection she couldn't quite explain. They discovered they were only a year apart and they had a lot in common when it came to art stuff, but musically they were nothing alike. They also had completely different hobbies. But they seemed to get along.
"You know," she ventured, her tone casual, "if you ever find yourself bored with the living, you're always welcome to join me in my nightly escapades through the graveyard. The dead are much better company than most humans."
He smiled warmly at her complimenting his kind, not able to really accept it properly and give up his disguise.
"Yeah I do hang out here a lot. It's peaceful and quiet. It was getting kinda boring, but now you're here so..." he tried to play it cool as he dropped his board on the ground. "See ya round?"
Lydia nodded, her eyes reflecting the soft glow of the moon. "See you around, Brian."
She gave him a small smile, a strange sense of excitement bubbling up within her. As she turned to leave, a gust of wind rustled over her, almost as if the cemetery itself was urging her to return soon.