Well, this is it :) Thank you guys for reading and hope you enjoy this last chapter!

Really, the whole situation had felt like a dream. In what way was having a dead guy show up and fall in love with you realistic? It wasn't, and that was the issue. I was pretty much convinced that Gilbert was just a figment that my imagination had conjured up because I was lonely, just as my mom and therapist said. He was never real. And if someone is never real, how can you ever miss them? Well, he HAD been a real person. But I'd never met him, so… it was just really confusing, and I tried to avoid it any time my mind found itself on the subject. It gave me a headache.

The last time I had seen him was a year ago, falling to pieces in my room. Since then, nothing had been right with me. I had nightmares about it. Whenever I looked at anything that reminded me of Gilbert, I panicked. My experience was stuck with me, imagined or not, and it haunted my every thought. It had even taken me a few months to stop hoping he'd come back. Now I was just an empty seventeen-year-old, more alone than ever since Alfred had gone off to college. My mom was as busy as always, which left me alone a lot, which in turn concerned my therapist that Gilbert would reappear or that I would make up some other dead person to spend my time with. The only good thing about any of this was that my dad had started spending more time with me lately.

He had heard the whole Gilbert story and shown up at the door one day, demanding to see me. Unwillingly, my mom had let him come in and talk with me, not realizing the affect it would have. We were almost like friends, despite his absence in my life. He was a lot like me, shy and introverted, not much of a talker, but really smart. When he came over, our "conversations" mostly consisted of silent contemplation about my situation, which suited me just fine. His words were muted and soft, with a noticeable Canadian accent that had distracted me the first time I had heard him speak. I began to wonder if he had come all the way from Canada just to see me.

We were in one of our sessions right now, finally getting somewhere now that I had opened up to him all the way, telling him how I had felt about Gilbert and what he had meant to me, even showing him the gravestone that I had once spent so much time at. Silent, he had studied it, running his fingers over the German words just as I had.

"May God wait for you up in Heaven. Rest in peace…" he murmured, glancing up at me. "A rough translation, but close enough to the real meaning. Looks like his parents really cared about him though, otherwise his gravestone wouldn't be so expensive. Maybe you should try talking to them. Figure out what he was like. If he's anything like the boy you met, you probably really met him. Mind's may be able to imagine up people, but they can't depict true personality."

Surprised, I looked from the stone to his face. "True personality?"

"You say you never knew him. If you get his personality down perfectly, obviously something has happened."

Unable to respond, I just nodded my understanding. I had never thought about talking to Gilbert's parents. But… if I just came to their door and asked to talk about him, wouldn't it hurt them? Then again, if Dad seemed unconcerned about it… "I'll go if you come," I whispered, suddenly terrified.

He gave me a nod and nudged me towards the car lightly, the cue that it was time to go. With one last desperate glance at Gilbert's grave, I got in, leaving it behind. The car ride was dead silent, as usual, until we drove right by the house and down the street a little ways before stopping.

"Um… you missed the house," I told him tentatively.

Instead of responding, he got out of the car, motioning for me to come to. Confused but obedient, I responded by leaving the car and following him down a long sidewalk that eventually led to someone's front porch, which turned out to be attached to a huge mansion hidden away by the forest that I had never noticed. My eyes widened as we made it to the front door and my father rang the doorbell, expressionless. When I heard the footsteps echoing from the inside, my heart started throbbing from nervousness as I realized that this must be Gilbert's house. With one more terrorized sideways glance at my dad, the door opened, revealing a rough-looking boy with swept back blond hair and penetratingly blue eyes.

I recognized him immediately. He was in my grade.

His eyes went from me to my dad and back before he asked, his voice deep, "Are you here to see my father?"

My dad nodded, saying simply, "Yes."

Ludwig ushered us in, going to get his dad while we waited in a massive entryway that made me feel about two feet tall. Who could have guess that Gilbert had been rich in real life? Mesmerized by the house, I didn't hear it when Gilbert's dad came in until he spoke.

"Hello, Nathan," he said, sounding surprised.

I turned, expecting someone similar to Ludwig, only to have my breath taken away. Standing no more than two feet away, was an older version of Gilbert, those familiar red eyes scanning over me, but in a much less arrogant fashion. His silver hair fell just below his ears, mussed up in a way that was so much like his son's, I wanted to cry. I refused to meet his gaze, sure that I would lose it, so I shoved my hands in my pockets and stared at the floor.

"Hello, Abel," my father returned politely.

"It's been years! What can I do for you?" His distinct German accent hardened his words.

With a small glance to me, my dad explained it in a semi-sane sounding way. "Matthew's brother, Alfred, and your oldest son, Gilbert, were very close friends before the accident, or so Mattie has told me. He's writing a paper about awareness while driving and when he was given the assignment, he thought about your family's loss, so we were wondering if it would be alright with you to just talk about what Gilbert was like for a bit, unless... you'd prefer not to. We would understand completely."

For a moment he seemed taken aback, but then he nodded solemnly, looking back at me. "If it'll help you, I'd love to talk about him. In fact… we've been waiting to talk to someone for awhile."

So we sat down with Ludwig and his dad, finding out then that Gilbert's mother had passed away not long after the accident, and they started talking, describing everything they could about who Gilbert had been when he was alive. I was amazed at how energetically they described every detail of him exactly how I had perceived it, only in words I never would have thought to describe him with. And the authenticity of their tones… it made me remember him in further detail, almost so much so that I wanted to cry again. I missed him so much.

When they were done, I just sat there on their leather couch in silence, trying to figure out how I was going to go on now that I knew he had been real. Knowing it wasn't my imagination was a relief, but it also made it hurt that much more that he was truly gone from me.

"Did that help you with your paper, Matthew?" asked Ludwig's dad, looking exhausted, yet in some way satisfied.

I forced myself to nod and smile at him, trying to show my gratitude without saying a word. He smiled back, understanding. I had a feeling he was one of the only people who ever would. Then we left with a "thanks" from my dad.

Back at home, Dad sat me down for awhile and tried to soothe me, but when he saw that I wasn't responding, he gave up and went back to wherever he was staying with a promise that he would be back for me tomorrow. Lying in my bed, I stared up at the ceiling aimlessly, tracing its shapes and patterns with my eyes, following them until they ended, sometimes making recognizable things, other times just random squiggles. When one of them formed a small bird, I looked away in pain, remembering the tale that Gilbert had spun where he was a prince and I was a princess. That seemed so long ago now… yet I could still recall nearly every vivid image he had put there.

I heard a car door slam and, knowing my mom was probably home now, decided it was time to go out, before she asked me to eat dinner with her again. I listened to her keys jingle all the way to her room. Then the door slammed. That's when I decided to make my move, sprinting across the room and out the door without so much as a goodbye, just like Alfred always had done. Since I still hadn't managed to make any friends, I wasn't sure what I was going to do, but there were always nice places to go alone too. Like the library. Which was where I decided to go once I was in my car and rolling down the road.

It was a little dark outside, so I put on my headlights, relaxing into the seat as I sped away from the house exactly on the speed limit. Unlike my brother, I wasn't one to endanger everyone just because I wanted to get somewhere fast. The way to the library was short, but filled with all kinds of stop signs and lights, which was really aggravating, especially when newcomers who weren't familiar with the area came through and didn't stop. It caused a lot of accidents, though the majority of them weren't fatal. I tried not to think about it as I slowed down to stop at a red light.

Letting my mind drift, I started thinking about coffee… warm and comforting, especially with chocolate and maple syrup… and a huge pile of whipped cream. I could really use a cup of that right now. Maybe I would go to the coffee shop after the library. Then I could go back to Gilbert's grave one more time before putting this whole thing behind me, just to have some closure now that I was sure the situation had been real. I felt my eyelids beginning to droop from the exhaustion that today had brought, the stress of everything, and I tried desperately hard to stay awake as the light switched to green, only for me to have to stop again fifteen feet away. With an unhappy sigh, I shifted my eyes to check my right side mirror. And froze. I rubbed my eyes vigorously about six times, until I finally accepted I wasn't imagining this.

I tried to say his name, but an airy sob was all that came out. He was quiet, staring at me with sorrowful red eyes. This couldn't be happening. I had seen him disappear. Yet here he was, sitting in the passenger seat of my car, completely whole and so real… it had to be my exhaustion doing this to me, torturing me. Yes, this was my overactive mind conjuring up Gilbert again. Or so I thought, until he reached over and stroked my face with an arrogant smile. I was too shocked to respond in any way, even when he whispered in my ear. I couldn't make out what he was saying, because his voice was suddenly so musical, when it had once been rough. His skin was soft when it had been calloused.

Not until the light changed and I had eased into the intersection did the words register.

He had said, "When that light turns green, don't move, Mattie. Don't move."

There was no way to fix it now, no time to react or respond before the car sped down the side road and slammed into the side of mine unrelentingly.

The dull ache in my head was all that made me realize I was alive. If people were coming to visit me, the only one I could actually hear and talk to was Gilbert. And he was dead. If my head wasn't pounding, I would have thought I had gone to Heaven, where it turned out he had gone to after all. He kept me company, his new, sweeter voice distracting me from the painful reality of the world as he told me story after story about life after death. It almost made me wish I was there with him, instead of being behind the nearly invisible wall that separated us. Every time I tried to get to him, it would form and get in my way, as if it were a mental block to keep myself alive.

When I woke up for the first time in a long time a few days later, I was glad it had been there. I was met with unexpected pairs of worried eyes looking down on me with tears in them. My family was there, including my dad, but that wasn't what touched me. It was the unexpected green and blue ones that made me sit up in shock, though my head was still killing me. I remembered their names: Antonio and Francis, the two boys that Alfred and I had gone to the skating park with a year ago, where I had first encountered Gilbert. They had been his best friends.

Had they come to the hospital… just for me?

Alfred had started sputtering pointless stuff at me now, hugging me, and they joined in, acting like we had known each other enough for that. Was it the fact that Gilbert had died in a car accident? Or was it… that they had wanted to be my friends? Either way, they were clinging to me and sobbing their eyes out. Glancing up, I saw my dad's relief and my mother's pain, and I knew I was truly loved. This was what I had been waiting for for a long time. I closed my eyes again, completely satisfied and fell asleep.

When I woke up again, the room was still filled with people, but they weren't barraging me like they had the first time. Instead, Alfred was conversing with a guy that I hadn't noticed before, one with yellow hair and big green eyes that was a little bit shorter than he was. The unfamiliar boy seemed to think they were arguing, while Alfred was all smiles and laughter. Just as I was about to ask, my brother looked over and saw me lying there, staring at him in confusion. He grabbed the smaller boy's arm and dragged him over, coming up to me and saying, "This is Arthur! He's my boyfriend!"

Boyfriend?

We both stared at Alfred in wonder for a bit before Arthur muttered, "Git…" in a British accent.

Apparently a lot had changed.

A few weeks later, I was laying in my own bed again, staring at the ceiling as I had not long before I had gotten myself into that accident. I remembered Gilbert, the way he had looked and spoken to me right before I had almost gotten myself killed. He had been trying to save me. And I hadn't listened. Did that mean he was watching over me now that he'd made it to Heaven? Had he attained a guardian angel status? Somehow convinced God that he deserved that? I smiled to myself at the thought of him pleading to the Lord that he needed to take care of me. I was really glad that he had. And now I could never really be alone. Not now that I knew he was there. And that he always would be.