I watch you like a hawk _Oli Sykes Fanfiction

Prologue

First off, I would like to precise that I do not own Oliver Sykes (sadly) or any of the other bandmembers mentionned in this story. Secondly, the title and quotes are from songs by BMTH, BVB, OM&M and other bands, so they don't belong to me. And finally, despite my wish to remain true to the lives of the bandmembers, for all intents and purposes of this story, Hannah Snowdon doesn't exist. I'm sorry Hannah, I really love you, but you get in the way a lot ;)

Anyway, thank you for reading this, and I hope you enjoy my fanfiction :)

 Three years ago _ Kat's POV

"Raise another broken glass to failure,

 A simple promise of a crimson saviour" _ Devil's Choirs, BVB

 I sighed at the empty glass in my hand. There wasn't even the slightest buzz in my head yet. Yep, I needed another one. Lifting my head, I met the understanding eyes of the barman who poured me another drink. All around me, people were dancing as loud music was blasted from the speakers; they were having fun, laughing and chatting cheerfully. What a sad sight I must be. But I couldn't bring myself to enjoy the party. The wound was still too fresh, the pain too raw.

"I'll have one glass of whatever the young lady's having!"

I turned around to see a man sitting down on the empty bar stool at my side. He was young, maybe a few years older than me, and very good-looking with broad shoulders and a shapely, slightly feminine face. Somehow I couldn't bring myself to care. His smile was flirty as his eyes lazily travelled up and down my body. A real player.

"Hey you," he said, his voice so overly seductive it had to be a joke.

I rolled my eyes and kept silent, not really appreciating the distraction from my dark thoughts. When I didn't answer, he mock-frowned.

"You seem to be new at this. Let me explain to you the rules of flirting: when I say hi, you're supposed to answer."

"Hi." My voice was lifeless, clearly saying: not interested.

"Good," he replied, obviously ignoring my hints, "then we exchange names. I'm Ashley, and you are?"

"Kathryn," I said, vaguely amused despite myself. "people call me Kat though."

"Now Kitty, can I call you Kitty?"

"No."

"Now Kitty, what is a beautiful young woman like yourself doing, drinking alone in a corner?"

I motionned towards the numerous empty glasses in front of me.

"Drowning her sorrows in alcohol. Obviously."

"Obviously," he repeated, cheerful as ever. "And may one be so impertinent as to inquire to the reason for that behaviour?"

The desired effect of his old-fashioned, formal tone was lost on me as my mood instantly darkened, thoughts of Amber resurfacing.

"No."

Hearing no sarcastic reply, I lifted my eyes to his face again, only to see that all trace of humor had disappeared from it. His gaze had fallen to my wrist and to the numerous scars on it. I braced myself for his shock and pity, but when his eyes were mine, they were full of sadness and understanding.

I know, they seemed to say. I know.

I looked away, my throat tightening. He gripped my hand and said in a whisper:

"Don't give up. Don't give up, keep fighting, and you'll make it through. I promise."

When I finally summoned enough bravery to look back at him, he was wearing his amused, flirty face back on, all seriousness long gone.

"Well," he said mightily, letting go of my hand, "since you seem to be immune to my efforts at conversation, I shall thrive to employ my talents elsewhere, where they will be met more gratefully."

And, with a wink, he left the bar, joining a group of gigging girls who welcomed him with delight.

"Ashleyyyy! Where were you? Come, we'll get you a drink."

I turned my attention back to the bottles of Scotch aligned on a shelf on the other side of the bar, the promised numbness a siren's call. But I thought back to Ashley and his serious eyes. Keep fighting. Sighing, I put some money on the bar as a tip for the barman and left.