Some people called it burnout. Others called it depression. The tabloids called it another breakdown.
Oli Sykes stopped calling it anything at all.
There came a point where every headline blurred together. Every interview felt rehearsed. Every arena filled with thousands of screaming voices somehow made him feel even more alone. People looked at him and saw success. They saw the frontman of Bring Me The Horizon.
They never saw the man who dreaded waking up every morning.
Because waking up meant doing it all over again.
Another show.
Another smile.
Another version of himself that people loved far more than the real one.
He often wondered when exactly he had become a stranger inside his own life.
"You alright?" Jordan had asked before soundcheck one evening.
"Always."
The lie came automatically.
Everyone accepted it.
Everyone always did.
After the concert, the applause faded into silence as the venue slowly emptied. Oli slipped away before anyone could stop him, wandering through the rain-soaked streets with his hood pulled low. The city buzzed around him, alive in every possible way.
He'd never felt further away from it.
The rain soaked through his clothes within minutes, but he didn't care.
Maybe he wanted to feel something.
Anything.
"You're going to catch your death standing out here."
The unfamiliar voice broke through the storm.
You stood beneath the awning of a small twenty-four-hour café, holding the door open.
"Or..." you added with a faint smile, "...you could come inside before you completely drown."
Oli looked at you for a long moment.
Most people recognized him immediately.
Asked for photos.
Talked about albums.
You didn't.
You just waited.
Like it didn't matter who he was.
Only that someone was standing alone in the rain.
After a few quiet seconds, he finally stepped inside.
The warmth hit him instantly.
You handed him a paper cup of coffee before taking the seat across from him.
"Rough night?"
He stared into the dark liquid.
A dry laugh escaped him.
"Try a rough few years."