If Only We Could (Woodland demars X reader)

You wake up to 25 missed calls from your sister. As you sit up, you notice Woods still sleeping. Walking to the living room, you call your sister back. She answers, "Olivia, what's going on? Why did you call so many times?" She delivers the devastating news, "Y/N, mom and dad are gone." Frozen in shock, tears well up in your eyes. "W-what?" you stammer. "They were in a car accident. They didn't make it." After hanging up the phone, you tightly grip your phone, tears streaming down your face as you pack. Woods wakes up, seeing you crying and packing, and asks, "Hey, hey, Y/N, what's wrong?" You manage to choke out, "My parents... they were in a car accident. They didn't survive." Woods offers you a comforting hug, expressing his condolences. "I'm so sorry," he murmurs softly. You gently pull away, feeling the weight of your departure pressing on you. "I need to leave," you explain, your voice heavy with grief, before opening the door and stepping out. But Woods's voice follows you, pleading. "Y/N, wait," he calls out, but you shut the door behind you, each step down the stairs feeling heavier than the last. In the silence of the night, you load your bag into the trunk of your car, the mechanical motions offering a temporary distraction from the overwhelming sorrow gnawing at your heart. Starting the car, you drive off into the darkness, the road stretching endlessly before you. The journey to Canada is long and lonely, the only company the haunting echoes of memories and the ache of loss. Finally arriving at your sister's place, you're enveloped in a tight embrace, the warmth of her presence offering some solace amidst the bleakness of grief. Sitting together at the kitchen table, you begin the somber task of planning the funeral, the weight of each decision bearing down on you like a heavy burden.
As the days pass in a blur of mourning and preparation, the funeral day arrives with a solemnity that hangs heavy in the air. With Miles and friends by your side, you watch as the caskets are carried out, each step towards the final farewell feeling like a descent into darkness. Approaching the graveside, you and your sister share a moment of quiet reflection, tears mingling with whispered goodbyes and memories too painful to voice aloud. As the gathered mourners take their seats, your sister rises to speak, her words a poignant tribute to the lives lost too soon. And then it's your turn, the weight of grief pressing down on you as you step forward to share your own memories and farewells. Each word feels like a struggle, the ache in your chest threatening to overwhelm you, but you press on, drawing strength from the love and support that surrounds you. As you speak, you feel a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness, a reminder that even in the depths of sorrow, there is still beauty to be found in the shared moments of love and remembrance. And as you finally take your seat beside your sister, you find a sense of peace amidst the pain, knowing that your parents will live on in the memories and hearts of those they touched.

The air hung heavy with the weight of grief as you and your sister stood by the freshly turned earth, bidding your final farewell to your parents. The cemetery seemed to stretch endlessly before you, a somber landscape of memories and lost futures. You stood in silence, lost in your own thoughts, until finally, with a deep breath, you turned away and led the way back to the waiting car. The drive to your sister's house was a blur of numbness and surrealism. The world outside the car window seemed to pass by in a series of disjointed images, the colors muted and the sounds distant. It was as if the universe itself had paused to mourn with you, acknowledging the irrevocable loss you had suffered. Arriving at your sister's house brought a strange sense of relief mixed with apprehension. The familiar surroundings offered a semblance of comfort, yet they also served as a stark reminder of the absence that now loomed over you. As you stepped out of the car, you noticed Miles standing on the porch, cradling Ben in his arms. Your nephew, oblivious to the turmoil that surrounded him, slept soundly, his small chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Inside, the house was filled with a heavy silence that seemed to press down upon you like a physical weight. Your sister disappeared into the depths of the living room, lost in her own grief, while you made your way to the guest room, seeking solace in solitude. It was there that you discovered the missed calls from Woods. With a sigh, you sank onto the edge of the bed, your fingers tracing the screen of your phone as you debated whether or not to return the call. Woods had always been a steadfast presence in your life, a source of strength and wisdom when you needed it most. But now, in the wake of your parents' passing, even his familiar voice seemed inadequate to soothe the ache in your heart. In the end, it was Matt, your boss and friend, whom you reached out to first. With trembling fingers, you dialed his number, your voice barely above a whisper as you explained the reason for your absence from work in the days to come. There was a moment of understanding silence on the other end of the line, followed by Matt's assurances that he would take care of everything in your absence. As you hung up the phone, a wave of exhaustion washed over you, leaving you feeling drained and empty. The events of the past few days had taken their toll, both physically and emotionally, and you knew that you needed time to heal, to come to terms with the enormity of your loss. Outside, the world continued to turn, indifferent to the pain and sorrow that gripped your heart. Cars passed by on the street, their headlights cutting through the darkness like beacons of hope in the night. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked, its lonely cry echoing through the stillness of the evening. But inside the confines of your sister's house, time seemed to stand still, frozen in a moment of suspended animation. The ticking of the clock on the wall was the only sound that dared to break the silence, a constant reminder of the relentless march of time. In the days that followed, you would be forced to confront the harsh reality of life without your parents. There would be paperwork to fill out, arrangements to be made, and a myriad of other tasks that demanded your attention. But for now, in this fleeting moment of respite, you allowed yourself to simply exist, to surrender to the overwhelming tide of grief that threatened to engulf you. After gathering all your belongings and loading them into your car, you embarked on the journey back to LA. Arriving home late at night, you unlocked the door and stepped inside, greeted by the sight of Woods sitting on the couch, engrossed in your favorite movie. A smile tugged at your lips as you greeted him, "Hey Woods." He quickly rose from the couch and walked over to you. "I'm sorry," you said softly. "No, it's okay," he replied, leaning in to kiss you tenderly. With a gentle touch, he turned off the movie and guided you to the bedroom, where he held you close, wrapping you in comforting embrace until sleep claimed you.