Save My Day (boyxboy)

32 Home

“What are you doing here?” I glare at him hoping to make his heart stop with my eyes.

I feel my best friend’s hand on my shoulder, “Babe, let go. They don’t want me. They’re here for you.”

A smile makes it to my father’s face, “It’s so good to see you, Damian.”

“Get out of my house,” I say sternly still holding my husband behind me. I don’t care who they want, I’m not letting him get hurt.

Clark puts a finger in the air, “Tsk, tsk, this isn’t your house. This house belongs to a Mister Christopher Ashton.”

“The likes of who is my husband. We share this home. Leave before I call the police.”

“Go ahead and call,” his smile turns wicked, “they’re already outside. We’re here to pick you up.”

“Me?” I ask a little more than stunned, “for what?”

“Didn’t you know? You’re a wanted criminal for illegal immigration,” he takes a menacing step forward.

I’m pulled backward and pushed behind Topher before I can protest.

“Get out of my house,” Christopher stands up straight. “You have no grounds to charge him with anything. He’s a legal citizen.”

“Aiding and Abetting I see,” Clark crosses his arms over his chest and shrugs, “Alright Damian, get me your visa.”

“You know I don’t have a visa,” I deadpan before shaking my head, “I have no need for one.”

“The law says that immigrants need a visa to stay in the United States,” the man I have to call my father smiles. “Now, if you would please turn around so that my officers can place cuffs on you.”

Shaking my head, I tell him, “Even if I did need a visa, which I don’t, I’m an American citizen because I married one.”

“Oh,” he chuckles lightly. The sound makes me want to hit him, “I guess I forgot the second charge: Marriage Fraud.”

“Have you lost your mind?” I look at him like he’s gone mad.

He shakes his head, smile still in place, “Nope, we have all the necessary evidence stating your marriage is fake. Now, please turn around so we can do this easily.”

“Listen here you prick!” I yell, but my husband stands in my line of sight.

Topher shakes his head and points toward the door, “You entered my house under false pretenses. Now leave or-”

“Or what, you little fag?” my father tilts his head to the side. “Are you going to call the cops? I am the cops. You going to shoot me? I don’t think you want a rep as a cop killer. You have two choices here. You let us take him nice and peacefully or we take him by force. And who knows what injuries he could give himself when he struggles in our hold. So shut your pretty little mouth and get out of the way.”

“You can’t talk to me like that,” my husband isn’t backing down. “I’ll have your job.”

“And who’s going to corroborate your story? A wanted felon?” He moves forward and grabs Chris’ arm.

Once again, there’s no thinking on my behalf when I launch forward and collide my fist with the side of my father’s jaw. The blow makes him release Chris, but only stumble backward a little bit. My left hand grabs onto his shirt before I get another solid hit into his face. I feel hands on my back, but I try to shrug them off as I throw another punch. I only just get the fourth in before I’m tackled to the ground.