Lustful Hearts

The taxi was eerily silent on our journey home to Joel's house. I shot a concerned glance over at him, but he was too preoccupied staring out the window to notice.

His eyes remained fixated on the houses and cars streaming by. His hand nervously tapped his knee, his agitation was clearly evident the nearer we got to his house.

Thankfully, Joel's dad, John, had gone to stay at his brother's in Southampton. He'd often go for a month at a time, during which Robert, John's brother, would help detox him off the alcohol.

He never stayed sober long after, always relapsing back to his old ways, the guy simply had no will power.

Robert was the complete opposite of John. His compassionate, caring nature was the one shining beacon in Joel's young life. He became Joel's saviour after his mum, Linda, tragically died, taking over the role of caring for a four year old.

After becoming redundant, he was forced to move to Southampton for work when Joel was only eight. Joel was heartbroken afterwards, losing the security and support of his uncle to be left alone with the guy that resented him so badly.

He was the only one outside of our family that gave a damn about him, who remembered all the important anniversaries. I was grateful he had him in his life for the period before he knew us.

In an attempt to relax him, I took hold of his hand and stroked it softly to soothe the tension away. I knew he was anxious about going home, it didn't hold many good memories. He'd always had my house to escape to when things got bad, but right now that wasn't an option.

"Hey, are you okay?" I asked, squeezing his hand. I was hoping he'd let me into his dark train of thought.

He shifted slightly turning to face me. "Yeah, fine." He smiled reassuringly, but the look of fear in his eyes told me different.

He groaned when the taxi swerved slightly. I looked at him anxiously, worried about his ribs. "Well, maybe not fine," he murmured and grimaced, clutching his side.

"I think you should go to bed when we get in?" Joel was on strong pain medication, which made him drowsy. I didn't want him being the hero dealing with the pain. I'd be more than happy if he slept right through it.

"Depends what you mean by bed." He grinned suggestively, raising his eyebrows. He was trying to detract from the subject with humour, it was what he always did.

My fingers soothingly stroked through his hair. He closed his eyes sinking into my touch. "I don't think you're up for any kind of physical activity at the moment, Joel," I said, shaking my head disapprovingly. I tried my hardest not to smile. I knew he wouldn't be at all happy with my advice.

His eyes snapped open in horror. "We can try different positions, I'm sure I'll find one that's comfortable." He smiled looking hopeful.

I rolled my eyes. He was in far too much pain to even consider anything like that.

"The only thing you'll be doing in bed is sleeping." I patted his cheek lightly, watching as the smile soon slipped off his face.

"Well in that case, I can play Xbox on the sofa," he huffed, turning back round with a scowl. His sullen response made me chuckle.

"I'll never understand your fascination with Xbox," I muttered. Computer games never appealed to me, yet he seemed to spend half his life on his.

"It's 'cause you're a girl."

I stuck out my tongue in retaliation, and he started laughing. "Excuse me if I don't enjoy shooting people or pretending to be a footballer."

"It's more than that." He shook his head, looking slightly annoyed I didn't understand.

"Yeah whatever," I blew out.

He narrowed his eyes, smirking before grabbing my side tickling my ribs. I flinched with shock, trying desperately to escape the torturous fingers locked to my side.

"Joel, don't you know-I don't like it!" I screamed, begging for him to stop.

The taxi driver turned around glaring when my high-pitched squeal reached a glass shattering shriek, but Joel carried on relentlessly.

Joel's face fell when we pulled up outside his home. His hand quickly left my side, the laughter and screams now replaced by a deathly silence.

I had never seen Joel's house before, but one word to describe it would be grim, almost dilapidated. I suddenly wanted to go back to mine, but Joel was my priority. If I had to forgo some luxury to be with him then so be it.

Joel grimaced walking up the path. I sensed his embarrassment at the state of his own home. The house looked in serious disrepair, from the peeling paint of the windows and doors to the thick dirt ingrained in the glass of the windows.

The garden was seriously overgrown, rubbish was strewn everywhere. It looked like it had been neglected for years. The place stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the row of well-maintained houses. "I'm sorry, Iz. The house is in a bit of a state. We don't really get any visitors. . ." He blushed and his eyes dropped down, looking mortified.

"Joel, it's me, you don't have to stand on ceremony, I'm not going to judge." I smiled reassuringly to appease and calm him. He'd been through enough already without sending his blood pressure back up. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight. As he unlocked the door, I braced myself for what I was about to encounter.

Pushing open the door, I silently gasped. It was far worse than expected. A stale musty smell instantly invaded my nostrils. It took every ounce to maintain a normal pose and not act on instinct. I breathed through my mouth till I was able to crank some windows open, welcoming the fresh spring air into my lungs.

My eyes pricked with tears scanning the room, horrified by the sight of it all. Dirty wallpaper loosely hung off the walls and nicotine stained doors that showed signs of John's tobacco addiction.

Large, ugly cracks ran right down the walls as my eyes dropped down to the stained carpets covered in filth. There were dirty clothes, empty beer cans, take away boxes and dirty plates scattered everywhere. The walls were bare, void of any pictures or family photographs and none of Joel's football achievements were on display. My mother prided herself in showing off any kind of accolade we won; it was what most parents do. Obviously John was the exception to the rule.

This house wasn't a home, it was a cold, dirty, empty shell. I understood Joel's reluctance to return to this grim existence. The air felt like poison, sucking all that was good from inside. The entire place sent chills down my spine.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Joel cringing. No wonder he favoured my home over his own. It needed a good going over. I had to try to get the house back into some order during my short stay.

I helped Joel get settled on the sofa with a drink. He switched on the television to keep him occupied, flicking through the channels but looked instantly bored by what was on offer.

"Iz, can you switch my Xbox on? I want to play some Call of Duty."

I looked at him concerned. "Do you not think you should have a sleep first?"

He pulled a face. "Nah, I'm good." He smiled, hoping to make me comply with his request.

"Are you sure?" I asked, stroking his hair. I was worried about the injury to his head; he really should be resting. I narrowed my eyes and lifted his chin to check for signs of tiredness.

He chuckled at me, pulling me in closer. "I'm fine. I have you tending to my every need, what more could I want?" He grinned and guided me down for a long, slow kiss.

"Fine," I mumbled against his lips, pulling away feeling slightly breathless. I switched on the game and handed him the controller and headset. "Well, you enjoy being a pretend soldier with your friends." I patted him on the head and made my way towards the kitchen.

"Do I sense a hint of sarcasm there, are you mocking Call of Duty?" he asked defensively, turning his head slightly.

I spun around with a pretend look of shock on my face. "Would I dare?" I placed my hand on my chest as if I was wounded. "Shout if you need anything, I'll let you get on with your game."

He shook his head looking bemused. "Iz, it's way more than a game."

"Yeah Joel, whatever you say," I added, waving my hands dismissively. Returning back through to the kitchen to start on the mountain of dishes in the sink.00