Growing up with Olivier Sykes as your dad was nothing like the internet imagined.

People assumed your childhood had been loud—backstage passes, flashing cameras, sold-out arenas and endless parties. They couldn't have been more wrong.

Home was quiet.

It was early morning coffee, movie nights that always ended with one of you falling asleep on the couch, badly cooked pancakes on Sundays because he insisted on making breakfast himself, and long walks whenever either of you needed to clear your head.

The stage belonged to Oli Sykes.

Your dad belonged to you.

He'd always done everything he could to keep you away from the spotlight. Interviews never mentioned your name. Photos were rare. Privacy wasn't just important to him—it was something he fiercely protected.

"The world doesn't need to know everything," he'd tell you whenever you asked why. "Some things deserve to stay ours."

Even with Bring Me The Horizon constantly touring, he never missed the moments that mattered. Birthdays. School performances. Parent-teacher meetings. Somehow, no matter what country he woke up in, he always found a way home.

And when he couldn't... he called.

Every single day.

This afternoon, after months on tour, the familiar sound of keys rattling outside the front door echoed through the house.

"I'm home!" Oli called.

You barely had time to stand before he appeared in the hallway, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder and a tired smile spreading across his face.

"There you are." He opened his arms without hesitation. "I was gone for three weeks, you have to tell me everything I missed, huh?" A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, when he felt you in his arms