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Summary
“Listen Buckley, I need you to know that this whole…” The officer gestured to his' clothes. “Gothics United Against Following Curfew club you're a part of can end up real bad, you can die kid. Or worse, go to jail.”
Buck doesn't think he looks much like a goth, aside from wearing black, and he only does it because it's easier to sneak around like that, there's nothing about him… Scratch that. Officer Gallagher just found him lurking around the cemetery at two in the morning. Because he talks to ghosts.
Always have and probably always will.
It fucking sucks.
It sucks. so. bad.
And now he has one. A ghost. In his room. A very handsome one at that, an old cowboy with a cowboy hat, tight pants, boots and big brown eyes.
Buck is so, so, very fucked