So Be It // o. maatta

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three: Alex's POV

"You'll be fine." I whispered, bending down, and pressing a kiss into his temple.
Tonight was Thursday, October 3rd. Otherwise known as the night of Olli's first NHL game.
You could say he was nervous.
We were in my dorm, sitting on the floor. Well, I was sitting on the floor. Olli was laying on the floor, head buried into my lap.
"What-what if I don't play a good game? What if I get sent back to London, to play another year of juniors. I don't want to leave you." He looked up at me, eyes filled with worry.
This was a topic I was extremely worried about as well, but I wanted to remain calm, and collected about it.
"Olli baby, you're going to play a fantastic game tonight, ok? I have faith in you. And if you don't, and you make some mistakes, that's ok, too. You have nine games to play, before they decide what to do with you." I ran my fingers through his messy, blonde locks. It was three-thirty. The game started at seven. He had to be at the rink by five.
"You're going to be their, right?" His voice was so weak.
"Of course, babe."
He snuggled into me. For a professional athlete, he was a big teddy bear.
"Did I tell you about my mom?" He mumbled into my legs.
"No." I said, softly. I continued to play with his hair.
"She, uh, is coming to the game on Tuesday versus Carolina. And she wants to meet you." He smiled nervously. "Surprise!"
I closed my eyes, and pinched the bridge of my nose. "Olli, you know I love you, but I want to kill you right now."
He flung his body upwards, face red, expression shocked.
"W-what did you just say?"
I was confused as to what the big deal was.
"I said you know I love you but-" I suddenly understood.
I had just told Olli I loved him.
"Fuck, I'm, I'm sorry, we, we've only been together for like, a month, and I just told you I loved you. I, I'm sorry. If things are awkward now-"
I was cut off by his lips.
We kissed passionately for a good minute-plus before he whispered.
"I love you, too."
I shook my head. "Olli, you're only nineteen, and I'm eighteen, and we've only met a month and a half ago, and I don't want to rush anything, and I'm sorry I said it. I'm, I'm sorry. I really don't want you to feel pressured to say it back."
He tilted his head to the side. "Why does age matter? Love is love, right?"
I sighed. "It is, but we haven't known each other that long. I don't want to rush things."
To me, saying 'I love you' seemed a bit unrealistic.
Don't get me wrong, I did love Olli, but I didn't want to rush things.
He kissed me again, then whispered, "We're not rushing things. The moment I met you, I knew you were special. From the moment I had that novel in my hand, and you told me how great it was, I've loved you. I don't consider that 'rushing things.'"
There were never many times where someone left me speechless, but that was one of them.
I just sat there, amazed with what he said, blushing like mad, and smiling like a fool.
He cuddled back into my lap.
We just sat there for a few minutes, his head in my lap, my hand playing with his hair, when I whispered, "I love you, Olli."
Barely audible, but meaningful as ever, he replied, "I love you too, Alex."