The Girly Watch Remade

Chapter 6 The Orange Suns Reflection

Peter runs a hand through his chocolate brown hair, the furrows in his brow deepening. "You think they're liars or assholes or something, secretly?"

Brian shakes his head slowly. "No, no. It's just like I'm only seeing the front of everything. I feel like I'm wearing a blindfold when I'm with them." He pauses, studying a crack in the tabletop. "It's like I can't think clearly."

As Brian speaks, images flash through his mind – Lena laughing over her donut, Angela's hair catching the sunlight as they spoke on the street. But the scenes feel flat, two-dimensional, as if he's observing them through a pane of glass.

An arm wraps around Brian's shoulders, and Peter brushes his knuckles against Brian's cheek in an imitation punch. "Don't think about it too much. Check the risks, you know?" A lopsided grin tugs at his lips. "Like, best case scenario? You're best friends with an Overwatch babe. Worst case? You have your spine broken by Tracer. I know people who'd pay for that."

Brian laughs wryly, the sound dry as fallen leaves. "I might have my spine broken either way." He glances down at his scuffed sneakers.

"Why?" Peter arches an inquisitive brow.

"Ange–" Brian catches himself. "Mercy was really weird when we met at that coffee shop. Over tea, she kept asking all these personal questions, and I must have zoned out or something because I found myself rambling."

Peter shakes his head, chestnut locks swaying. "Angela and Tracer are friends, right? Former Overwatch squadmates or something?"

"Yes?"

"Then she's probably just a bit suspicious of you, my guy." Peter sits, extending a hand in a 'do you understand?' gesture. "For all she knows, you're some clout-chasing bloke who just wants to get laid."

Frowning, Brian shakes his head. "I don't think so. She was oddly affectionate, kept touching my arm. And she was kinda...pushy?"

Peter nods knowingly. "Maybe she's one of those psycho girls."

"What?" Brian furrows his brow.

"You know, yandere or something?"

"I...don't think so?" Brian runs a hand through his tousled hair. "Maybe she was just tired or had too much coffee"

"I think you're just a chick magnet." Peter smirks, standing. "If they have any friends, slide me their number?"

Brian's face scrunches up, and Peter laughs. "I would do it for you..." He trails off, heading toward his next class.

Brian closes his locker door with a metallic clang. Glancing down, he pulls up the blue sleeve of his hoodie to check the time on his weathered watch face. At least thirty minutes until Peter gets out of class and they can walk home together or grab some food.

A ding from his phone catches his attention - a notification that the VTuber he watched earlier uploaded a new clip to YouTube. He makes a mental note to check it out later.

For now, Brian retrieves a tablet from his backpack and unlocks it with a practiced movement of his thumb. The search engine's bar blinks, prompting him to type. His fingers hover over the keys for a moment before tapping out: "Tracer Overwatch."

Leaning back against the lockers, he waits for the results to load, curious eyes scanning the screen.

"247, Lena Oxton is here to see you." The gloved hand of a prison guard presses an icon on a tablet, the small Overwatch symbol in white emblazoned with a number on his chestplate.

The sound of a massive figure rising from a bed reverberates through the cell, followed by the thud of heavy footsteps. A white-bearded man emerges, his towering frame filling the doorway as he comes face-to-face with the guard and the Overwatch Liaison. A booming laugh rumbles from deep within his barrel chest as his holocuffs unlock.