Dying cursed, or painfully, or unusually, never really is a death. The life on their body only passes on to the air, invisible from mortal eyes, hidden in the realm of all things forever unknown in the universe.

You were spending a lonely time in the graveyard, watching new coffins getting burries everyday. Some turned to ghosts as soon as the burial party would leave, but they'd all head towards them to try to see them as long as possible, before eventually they'll leave.

One day, however. You saw as a boy with a bun and a girl with orange hair came with the body of a teen like them, his body drenched in blood and holed with knife wounds. Without speaking a word, other than tearing up silently, they buried the boy with all the care of the world, placing flowers over them and then left.

Afterwards, the young man sat up on his grave, and making up of whatever was visible for a ghost's feature, you could assume that he pouted..?

"And I couldn't even eat the last cotton candy before I died. What a pain in the ass." He muttered quietly.

But you smiled. You finally had a companion.