𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 • 𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒆

* echoes *

As Richie had promised, the door was unlocked. Eddie would be lying if he said he wasn't a little disappointed by this - had it been locked, he may have been able to convince Richie they should just go home - but his discontent was quickly replaced by relief when no alarms rang out into the night. Instead, the front door swung gently closed and plunged the lobby into a ghostly silence.

It was properly terrifying. On top of the place being completely empty, the lights had all been turned off at closing time, casting creepy shadows across every surface. This, added to the lobby's haunting quietude, made Eddie feel like he was in a horror movie and about three seconds away from being stabbed to death or dragged away by a demon. He shivered. It took all of his willpower not to cling to Richie's arm like a frightened child, as he had so many times before.

"Well," whispered Eddie. "I came in. Can we go home yet?"

"No way," Richie replied at a normal volume. His voice echoed eerily. "The lobby doesn't count. We have to at least go into the pool area."

Eddie sighed. He had thought Richie would say that. It had been worth a try, anyway.

They bypassed the changing rooms ("What's the point of even going in there?" "It's part of the pool experience, Eds." "How about you go fuck yourself, Richie? And don't call me Eds.") and opted instead for the glass door that led directly from the lobby to the pool's sitting area. It was a small section of tiled floor with a handful of lawn chairs for parents observing their children. A small white fence, about knee height, separated the area from the pool.

It was damp and disgustingly hot and smelled exactly how Eddie had always imagined a public pool would smell - musty and mildewy, with such a strong odour of chlorine that his head was already starting to hurt. He could practically see the bacteria in the hot, humid air. He shut his eyes.

"Ugh," he said, covering his nose with his sleeve. The echoes were even more prominent here, a hollow repetition of Eddie's voice filling the room. "It's even worse than I expected."

"That's only because you haven't looked properly," Richie said smugly.

Eddie frowned, opening his eyes enough to glare at the other. "What are you talking about?"

Richie gestured at the pool ahead of them. Reluctantly, Eddie looked - and his jaw dropped.

The place was decorated like a child's birthday party, albeit a very sloppy one. Streamers dangled messily from the rafters, as though someone had simply tossed them at the ceiling in the hopes that they would catch. Some had clearly not; they floated morosely in the pool like psychedelic seaweed. Colourful balloons were tied to diving boards and balloon weights, though quite a few had come loose and bounced against the rafters. To cap it all off, a banner, clearly handmade, was hung from the string of backstroke flags. It read Happy Seventh Birthday, Billy Boy , in what Eddie recognized immediately as Richie's disjointed handwriting.

"Ta-da!" said Richie proudly, doing jazzhands in the direction of what Eddie could only assume was his handiwork.

Eddie was awestruck. "What is this?" he breathed.

"Bill's seventh birthday party," Richie grinned. "Or a recreation thereof. Sorry I couldn't get any seven year olds here to complete the birthday party vibe - not for lack of trying, of course, but it turns out that parents don't appreciate a strange man inviting their children to a swimming pool late at night, no matter how heartwarming his reason is. Which, okay, I should have foreseen, but you know. Hindsight. 20/20. Whatever. I did bring cupcakes."