an: Happy birthday to Oliver Wahlstrom!!! Here's my first part of my first non-barzal series! I decided it's gonna be 3ish parts because I said so and I love how it's turning out! Disclaimer the timelines probably do not line up with his irl career at all but it's fiction so I'm going with it! Also, this is set in a covid-free world of course! Fluff and soft angst!
tagging: @ollywahlygator (hi it's your fault I'm hooked on ollie) @fallinallincurls @matbaerzal @softboybarzal @josthours @cozycozzy @glassdanse @canadianheaters
wc: 2k
--Fall, 2017, Boston College--
Oliver Wahlstrom.
You weren’t really certain anymore when or how you actually befriended Oliver. There was never a specific “Hey, let’s be friends'' moment, no defining point in a change in your friendship. It just happened naturally. Maybe it was when you quite literally tripped and fell into his arms- or, his back, more like it- during a campus visit on a nice early fall morning in 2017. The Massachusetts air was crisp and cool, but the sun was filtering in through the tree above- it’s leaves already turning brown and orange and gold- just perfect weather for this time of year, and you had been allowed to skip class to visit a prospective college, though, in all honesty, you could hardly see yourself here. Boston College had a beautiful campus, and it was a great school in a prime location, of course, but it was much too expensive for you, the students seemed a lot wealthier than you, and though you were an exceptional student at your high school, you weren’t sure you were this good. You had been caught up in fretting over your plans in your head and looking over your map making sure you were heading the right way to see each part of campus- a self-guided tour might not have been the best idea, you decided later- when suddenly your shoe hit a divot in the walkway and the sunlight was cut off from your vision as you fell- head first- against somebody’s back. It all happened too fast to even think, and before you knew it, you were clinging onto a stranger’s shirt, your papers fluttering down to the ground and your phone clattering into the grass as the man you ran into stumbled and, finally, turned to see his assaulter.
You scrambled to compose yourself, trying to ignore the hotness of your face and the way your belly was turning over and over in a spin-cycle of embarrassment. Not even in college yet and you’re already making a fool of yourself in front of students, great. “Oh my god, I’m so so sorry.”
“Don’t worry, it’s fine.” He had a pretty face, and a dimple stood out pleasantly on his right cheek when he smiled at you reassuringly. You felt yourself relax- only slightly- under his smile. “Here, lemme help you.”
“No, it’s okay, it’s my fault.” Still, he bent down to help you gather up the papers- a campus map, a welcome flyer, a list of recreations and clubs across the yards, housing options, all the necessary prospective student guides- as you continued to apologize, grabbing your phone from the grass. “I should’ve been paying attention, I’m so sorry.”
“I promise it’s okay. I mean, I was just standing around in the walking path, so it’s partly my fault too.” He glanced down at the papers he had gathered up for you and chuckled, a noise that would resonate in you forever. “You’re a new student?”
“Next fall, probably.” Maybe, maybe not, you had meant to say. But you wanted to seem sure of yourself as if you knew what you were doing. “I’m just visiting, now.”
“Oh? So am I.”
“Great, so I just made a fool of myself in front of a possible future classmate.”
“No, don’t worry about that.” He laughed again, that dimple on his cheek making yet another appearance, and you found yourself smiling at the sight. His cheeks were tinged pink from the breeze, and he handed your papers over suddenly as if he just realized he’d been holding them. “Well, I have a meeting with the school’s recruitment officer, but I look forward to seeing you in the fall. Hopefully the embarrassment doesn’t change your decision.” He gave you another smile, but before he could turn away and you both would continue your separate ways, on you separate paths of life, possibly to never see each other again, you grabbed the sleeve of his BC hoodie.
“Wait, wait!”
“Yeah?” His eyebrows raised in a soft, questioning manner, a tiny smile playing on his lips that let you know he knew what you were about to do, and he wasn’t going to say no- so you opened your phone to the contacts screen and held it out to him. You’d never done this before, never been this bold, but it just felt right. You knew that if you didn’t do this now, you might never see him again, and god, you wanted to see him again.
“Can I get your number?”
His smile split into a wide grin. “Definitely.” He took the phone from your hand, typing in his contact information and saving it. By the time you took it back from him, both of you were grinning, giddy at the thought of already having friends at your possible future college, high off the adrenaline of meeting someone new, someone who just felt so right to talk to.
“I’m (Y/N), by the way.”
“(Y/N).” You savored the way your name rolled off his tongue. “I’m Oliver.”
“Oliver.” You smiled, repeating the name, getting used to how it tasted in your mouth, sweet. It was cute. It suited him.
“Hey, I gotta go, don’t forget about me, alright?” And with one more wave and a smile thrown your way, he was off, lost in the wide sea of students huddled together across the grassy campus, students talking with friends about their professors and worrying about upcoming quizzes- “Already? It’s still so early in the school year!”, “The professor hates us so much, I just know”. Oliver was off to continue his own story while you continued yours, the only record that you’d ever crossed paths in the first place being the new contact in your phone.
Oliver.
You may not have officially been friends yet, at that point, or known that a year from then, you’d be more in love with him than you ever thought you’d be in your life, but you must have subconsciously known that it would happen eventually. The way you were so comfortable with each other, despite the fact that you were beyond embarrassed from the moment you ran smack into his tall back to the moment he smiled at you, dimpled and sincere, that feeling should’ve told you that he was about to mean so much more to you than you would ever forget. From that day on, you texted with Oliver the entirety of your senior year in high school, learning more and more about him every day. He was a hockey player, and a good one- a great one, even. He was gonna play at college next year, but before that, he would be drafted into the NHL.
“The NHL!” You exclaimed to him one night. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re practically a star?”
He laughed on the other end of the video, “A lot still has to happen before that, I think.”
“I saw all the stats and stuff about you. I don’t watch hockey but these guys are saying that they expect you to be a really high pick!”
“As long as I’m picked, it doesn’t really matter what number I’m at. It’s what I do after that counts.”
You smiled at his words, the maturity he was showing. He was still so modest, even though he was practically a star, practically a hockey legend, with videos of him on Youtube since he was nine years old. Still, nothing got to his head. “Congrats, Ollie. Seriously.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t forget about me when you get all rich and famous, okay?”
“Are you kidding? Forget about you?” He laughed as if it was funny that you’d even think about that; as if he couldn’t believe he would ever forget about you. It made your heart pound, it made you feel the little glimmer of hope that maybe this could be something more.
--Summer, 2018- The NHL Draft--
You ended up with an acceptance to none other than Boston College and, knowing Ollie would be playing and studying there too and understanding the amazing feat that you had actually gotten accepted to the prestigious school, you couldn't give up on that opportunity. The first person you called to yell at about your acceptance was none other than Oliver, who immediately congratulated you. “That’s amazing! I guess I didn’t scare you away after all, huh?”
“It’s gonna take a lot more than that to scare me away, Ollie.”
“Yeah?" He grinned, "maybe I gotta try harder."
"No, no, you're stuck with me."
That dimple made another appearance, making you heart just as warm as the first day you met. "It’ll be so great to already know a friend at college, right? We can be study buddies, yeah? You can make sure I don't fail my classes.”
“Study buddies? Won’t you be too busy with your hockey buddies to study with me?”
“Too busy for you?" He waved his hand and scoffed. "C’mon, now. I'm never gonna be too busy for you. Trust me.”
There had been a twinge of teasing in his voice, like always. The little hint that always reprimanded you when you doubted his friendship. The one that reminded you on bad nights that he wasn’t gonna forget about you, the one that laughed with you on good nights, reminding you how great their hangouts would be when they were finally on campus together, hanging out in person again.
But now, as you sit in front of your laptop watching the stream of the 2018 NHL draft, your phone open, ready, on your’s and Oliver’s messages, you're thinking much more about the future than the past. In two months you'd be headed headed Boston to go to school, and you'd see Oliver there, if his college plans held through. Beyond that... what would happen? You stay huddled there in bed, the bright light of the screen hurting your eyes in your dark bed room, bored out of your mind at whatever was happening on the screen but waiting ever so patiently to hear that name. You dug your spoon into the tub of ice cream beside you as the voices droned on and on, half spacing out and half-listening to the commentators. How long before they started? Sports were definitely not your thing, but you’d put up with all the confusing stats and facts of teams and players you didn’t care about if it meant you could witness this huge moment in his life with him.
You’d give anything to be with him now, sitting next to him among his family, holding his hand and whispering in his ear “You’re next, Ollie.” after every pick, giving his hand a little squeeze every time it wasn’t him. You knew he was confident, he knew his name would be called soon, but he was still nervous, so you’d do anything to bring that smile to his face.
Your eyes shot up to the screen as they called the first name.
Some kid from Sweden, going to Buffalo.
You didn’t want to think about where Ollie would be going after the draft. He’d be on a professional hockey team, he could be anywhere from here in Boston to way down in Florida, even out in California, or in Vancouver. What would you do when he was so far away? What would happen to your friendship? Did you know anything about the Boston Bruins or Ollie’s chances on a team like that? No. Did you have any real say in where you thought he should go? No. Were you still hoping he’d go to the Bruins so he’d be able to stay here with you? In some selfish way, yes.
Name after name after name, all the teams, the prospects, the numbers were announced, and then, it happened.
“-proud to select from USA Hockey National Development Team Program, Oliver Wahlstrom.”
The cheers broke out for the newest draftee, the camera cut to him standing, hugging his family, smiling. The Islanders? So he was going to New York?
Oliver Wahlstrom to the New York Islanders.
You were proud of him, of course you were. He had been playing all his life for this very moment, the moment when a professional team decided he was worth it, that they wanted to take a chance on him. This was the moment he’d been waiting for. But still, as you watched from your dark bedroom, Oliver’s smiling face on stage, slipping on the Islanders jersey and hat, slinging an arm over their shoulders for the pictures, you couldn’t help but fear. You opened your phone again to send him congratulatory texts that he would see later, but your mind was spinning. New York? Professional hockey? What did that mean for Ollie’s collegiate season in Boston? What would that mean for thr promise of your years together in college? What came after that? New York for him, but where did that leave you? Where did that leave your friendship?
