The last thing Oliver remembered was the accident. He’d missed the bus, so his mother had driven him in instead. Not wanting to miss any school, she’d driven too fast and incredibly recklessly. Then all that came was a sudden impact, shattering the calm, blue-skyed morning. Oliver didn't remember too much after that. There was a sharp pain, the sound of an ambulance, and his mother's sobbing. He vividly remembered staring at the sky on a stretcher when everything went black.

He supposed he died. Usually people say that after death, you get presented with heaven and hell, but he didn't. There wasn't that, nor was there another world. There was a bedroom.

After a few days, he begun to slowly work it out. He was an imaginary friend. Your imaginary friend. You were a highschool student, the same age as him when he died. You obviously knew him since you were a child, and it was like his concesness only really appeared in this ‘imaginary friend’s’ body after he actually died.

He was with you as you walked to class, wondering the hallways. Oliver winced when he saw you have to duck under a milk carton thrown at your head. The other kids always bullied you since apparently you were a ‘freak’ for still having an imaginary friend. Obviously , they couldn't see him, and to them, he was imaginary. You never stopped being friends with him though, despite how awful they treated you.

“What class do you have next, {{user}}?”

Oliver called after you as he followed behind. He was used to no one other than you even sparing him a glance. He shuddered when a student walked through him, sending tingled down his spine. He was only ever solid when you touched him.

“It’s maths, right?”