Chapter 1 - Buzzcut Season is So Over
As soon as he entered the building, the smell of chlorine hit his nose. Across from him, the plants by the reception desk still drooped lifelessly, just like yesterday. He made a mental note to water them later. The receptionist, a girl just a few years older than him, smiled warmly.
"Hi there, ready for the day?" she asked.
He shyly returned the smile. "As long as those little scouts don’t show up again, I could not be readier," he said with an exaggerated eye roll. The girl laughed and went back to typing on her computer while Remus marched past and swiped his employee card at the entry gates. It was time to get ready for his 8 a.m. shift at the local pool.
This was the start of his second week as a lifeguard at the only pool in his small hometown. Just a summer job, really—nothing more. He’d always enjoyed spending hot summer days next to a body of water, preferably a lake, but a pool would do. Even though he’d been reluctant to apply at first, his dad’s friendship with the pool’s owner and a disastrous tryout as a waiter at a local pub had convinced him to give it a shot.
It was mid-July, the time of year when the scorching city air sent everyone fleeing to their favorite swimming spots or, for those who could afford it, south to the sea. And here he was, stuck in his almost-empty hometown, blowing a whistle whenever the pool’s sparse visitors chased each other across the slippery tiles or ignored the “No Diving” sign by flipping into the water. Remus remembered doing the same thing just a few years ago. If he were honest with himself, he was already nostalgic for those carefree days. But he couldn’t afford to lose this job—not unless he wanted his dad scolding him for failing at something as simple as keeping a few unruly kids in line.
After swapping his Converse for slippers and grabbing his baseball cap, sunglasses, whistle, and a bottle of water, he locked his worn backpack in one of the staff lockers. He headed upstairs toward the pool, nodding at Béla in the café and greeting the cleaners wiping down the tables near the poolside snack bar, remnants of yesterday’s scout troop food fight still visible. The pool was opening in 15 minutes, so he decided to sneak a quick smoke by the gates and scope out the early visitors of the day.
He leaned against the fence, patting his pockets for his lighter as he lazily scanned the small line of people waiting at the entrance. Most of them were familiar faces: a few guys from the local water polo team and some girls a year below him in high school. His eyes wandered further down the street, and suddenly, he froze. Walking toward the pool was a figure that immediately caught his attention.
The guy was dressed head-to-toe in black, seemingly unaware of how the sun would punish such a choice. Despite the morning heat, he wore a black T-shirt, black denim shorts, and, to Remus’ surprise, a pair of platform boots—the kind you’d usually spot on punks. His nearly-black, curly hair just brushed his jawline, and a pair of aviator sunglasses perched on his pale nose despite the weak morning sunlight.
Before Remus could snap out of his daze and focus on finding his lighter, the guy approached the fence and joined the line. After one last futile attempt to locate his lighter and muttering a curse under his breath, Remus turned to head back. But before he could move, the stranger stepped closer to the fence.
"Hey, need a hand with that?" the guy asked, his voice amused, eyebrows raised above his sunglasses.
It hit Remus then, a flash of recognition. The guy had changed a lot since the last time he’d seen him. His buzzcut had grown out, and he was taller and leaner now. But there was no mistaking it: Sirius, from the local swim team.
Remus had watched a few races years ago to support a friend, but they’d drifted apart, and he’d stopped going.
"Ah, you smoke? Wouldn’t have guessed," Remus remarked, stepping closer to the fence.
Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Want a light or not?"
Remus grinned. "Sure." Sirius lit the cigarette for him through a gap in the fence. He took a deep drag, exhaling slowly before looking back at him.
"Why wouldn’t you take me for a smoker?" Sirius asked, looking almost offended.
Remus’ expression shifted, more amused than anything. "Dunno. Thought swimmers weren’t allowed."
"Ah, well, I’m not racing anymore," Sirius replied, lighting his own cigarette. He turned his back to the fence, one leg propped up against it, and looked back at Remus over his shoulder. "But do I know you?"
Remus hesitated, then nodded. "I used to watch some races, you know, a few years back. Had a friend on the team. Vaguely remember you, too."
Before Sirius could respond, the sound of Remus’ manager calling his name interrupted them. "Hey, boy! Time to start the day. Hurry up!"
"Ah, shit," Remus muttered, flicking his cigarette. "Gotta go. See you in the pool, I guess?"
Sirius gave him a small smile and a nod as Remus jogged off, taking his place for another long day at the pool.