The Smell of Burnt Rubber

"They should've warned us about tossing matches in the trash," Nelly chuckled.

"Right? We were 16—how were we supposed to know?" Itsuki's laugh was brittle.

"Bold of the teachers to trust teens with candles. That trash can burned brighter than any of them."

"Almost took the whole room down!" Itsuki focused on the road, grinning.

"Almost being the key word. Teacher put it out, then blamed me—I didn't do shit!"

"Sure. Just sat there, completely innocent."

"Exactly! I didn't even know why it was burning. Random accidental trash-can-arson shouldn't equal a week's suspension. Try explaining that letter to my mom."

"My dad wasn't thrilled either."

"At least the teachers learned. No more fire—not even in chem. Boring."

"It would've been cooler if we'd almost blown up the lab, though. Instead? Hot match plus trash equals lame fire." They laughed, the sound fraying at the edges.

"Is it lame if we're still laughing at it this hard?" Nelly's voice softened.

"...Guess not."

Silence settled—thick, but not awkward. The evening's weight pressed down between them, still vivid in their minds.

"Why me?" Itsuki asked quietly. He kept his eyes on the road, not daring to look her way. "Why call me? We weren't close. Haven't even spoken in years."

"To be completely honest, I don't know. I was sure I'd die—but then I felt I just needed to call you. I remembered our past friendship. Maybe I just wanted to hear your voice again, or maybe it was the part of me that didn't want to die. It's not like it matters anyway."

"But why me of all people? Wouldn't you want to open up to someone you actually feel close to? We haven't had much to do with each other in five years."

"First of all, back in 10th grade, we had some very deep and emotional talks. You were the only one who knew about my struggles. You were always a trustworthy and loyal friend," Nelly started.

And then I left, Itsuki's grip on the steering wheel tightened. How can you just see past that and still see me as trustworthy?

"I craved that feeling of someone not judging and just being there, listening."

"And, secondly?" Itsuki caught her phrasing.

"Hm?"

"You said, 'first of all.'"

"Oh. No, it's nothing. My brain just misfired. The ways of my thoughts are strange." Nelly chuckled, but her fingers started digging into each other again—the nails biting crescents into her soft skin.

"No, tell me. Come on. Don't keep it a secret; I'm curious."

"No, please. It's dumb. Pathetic, almost."

"Hey, those are the words people use to describe me!" he pretended to be as excited as a dog that heard its name. And then he laughed. Nelly gave him a chuckle too—a genuine one.

Wow, I made her laugh with a joke. I thought nobody finds my stupid jokes funny. Well, she did always have a self-ironic sense of humor—maybe this is right up her alley.

"Fine..." Nelly sighed. "Don't laugh... I don't have anyone else to talk to."

"You don't? Your family—?"

"Yeah, right. I'll barge into my mother's bedroom at midnight: 'Mom, I'm trying to die!'" The chuckle that escaped her mouth was razor-thin. "Seriously, my mother already has enough worries. I'm already burdensome enough without bothering her with my bullshit."

"You're not a burden for feeling bad. But I see what you mean; parents already worry enough," Itsuki agreed. "But what about your friends? Don't tell me you have none—I know you had that friend group back in 12th grade."

"Yes, that's exactly it. In 12th grade. School friendships like that were usually only to get by. Surface-level bonds, nothing more. We never realized it until graduating. But those friendships ended the moment we left the school for the last time."

Friendships out of convenience... Yup, sure sounds like school. She's right.

"So... None of them stuck around? Didn't they keep in touch?"

"Of course not. I mean, we weren't super close or anything. We talked to each other in school and occasionally hung out, but it was no deep connection. After graduation, we all just lost contact. Busy with life, and we had our own things going on."

"I see."

Itsuki felt the guilt almost strangling him. Nelly was shifting in her seat too, her embarrassment almost tangible.

"So, yeah. Here you go—the second reason I called you is because you're the only one of my former friends I thought wouldn't be completely weirded out. We had a very nice friendship back in the day, and that trust just stayed, I guess. At least that's how it seems. Because, to be honest, this all still feels absurd. Like, what the fuck am I doing right now?" She laughed awkwardly. "I'm just so mortified, but also grateful. I really feel bad for bothering you. It was stupid of me. I'm sorry. This was so selfish."

"Stop." His voice firm, yet gentle. "I'm glad you called. Don't you dare assume I feel bothered or weirded out. And you are the last person who should be calling herself selfish. Don't. You can take your apology right back, too. I'll have none of it. Just let me help you. Please. Don't hide from me. You have to open up to someone. I'm here for as long as needed."

Silence.

"It's fine. You can tell me everything. We can talk, like we used to. About anything, whatever you need. Okay?"

"Thanks, Itsuki. I appreciate it," her voice sounded broken.

"Sure," he gave her a compassionate smile.

Quietness filled the car once more.

"So," Nelly ventured, "how's work going?"

"Work? Same old, I guess. Still at the gas station."

"With your friends still?"

"Yeah." The lie tasted bitter.

Friends. I'd love them to be, but all they want is me to shut up and get lost.

"That sounds amazing," Nelly's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Having people around who care."

"Sure is." His chuckle cracked halfway.

Shit. Too sharp. Too hollow.

"You alright?" Nelly tilted her head.

"Marvelous," the smile he gave her felt heavier than solid lead. "Don't worry about it; we're here for you."

"Bullshit. Don't change the topic—are they bullying you?"

"Bullying is a strong word, Nelly."

"It's not if it fits." Nelly's fingers held onto her seatbelt. "They mock you, don't they?"

Itsuki's throat closed.

How did she—

"Oh, please. I know that laugh." Nelly spoke in a soft voice. "The one that practically screams, 'Don't notice I'm bleeding!'"

The material of the wheel groaned under Itsuki's grip, barely audible.

When did she learn to read me so well?

"They're not wrong," he muttered. "I am annoying. Always making jokes no one finds funny."

"You're hurting. 'You're not funny, but laughing at your own jokes makes it even worse!' I've heard that many times; it never hurts any less. But... the jokes and humor just won't stop, right? Can't turn it off."

Itsuki blinked twice, staring at her blankly.

She... Did she just describe my entire pain?

"How did you—?"

"You're not the only one who wants to spread laughter in order to hide his misery. It just really sucks when you can't even manage to be funny. They just see you as a dumb clown who's only there for entertainment and has nothing else in his head, or heart. The funny guy, except he fails at being funny. And so, the others only ever tell you how annoying you are."

"That's exactly what I mean!" The words burst out of him, a bit too loud. "It's just a natural thing for me! And the more I fail at making them laugh, the worse it gets."

This was the first time he truly vented to someone else. It felt wrong, but right at the same time.

"Yes, precisely."

"You really know what I mean, huh?"

"I do."

"But it's not that easy to drop the act and stop trying. The urge is so strong. It's hard. Like walls. The more it hurts me, seeing them annoyed, the thicker the walls get."

"Exactly. So, the cycle repeats. The more they're annoyed, the more obnoxious the jokes get. That's what's so frustrating about it. And the fact that they think you're that annoying, cheerful, careless guy who'll never understand what struggles feel like. That they can't harm you, no matter what they say."

"You're reading my mind, Nells. It's almost scary. The fact that they think I have it so good and easy makes me want to just scream. They don't realize how much it hurts; they just see me as the idiot who laughs at everything. But I dug my own grave, you know? I act that way, burying my seriousness."

"Because the seriousness makes you vulnerable. When you're being yourself, there's a possibility of being judged. It's a lot easier to pretend and wear a mask."

"That's so true." He didn't know what else to say. He was still shocked, but also grateful. Never in his life had he felt understood or seen. His eyes burned with the urge to cry.

Their voices ceased, replaced by the engine's hum. But the silence was a comfortable one. Both were lost in thought.

I can't believe it. She gets me without hesitation. Earlier, she described me as caring and kind. Not once as annoying or over the top. She understands the humor and the reasons behind it; she understands the need to mask emotions, the fear of rejection, and the desire to be needed and appreciated. We're the same.

He was relieved, but also terrified.

This is so similar to the way we used to be. She got me like no other, even though I never opened up about it. I can't believe we still have this connection after so many years of not speaking. How?

"You know," Nelly's soft voice suddenly interrupted, "people always think one only has a single personality trait and that's all there is to them. They never take the time to actually look past it, even though there are many more sides to it."

"Yeah. Exactly."

"There are a lot of facets in a human. It's just so easy to be categorized into a role based on a certain behavior or appearance. Nobody wants to dig deeper. Even when you give them a hint that there's something else, they're blind. They won't believe you, because their view is already set. They see you as annoying, and there's no point in convincing them otherwise."

"Yes, that's why it's easier to just go along with the role and be the person they think you are. Like some circus animal. Do this, and get a treat. Do that, and get a kick."

All of a sudden, the atmosphere shifted. Nelly went quiet. But not the normal silence of thinking about what to say. It was incredibly sudden, almost like a snap of a finger. The air in the car became eerily thick. Thick enough to be cut—not with a butter knife, but only a well-sharpened meat cleaver.

Itsuki was focusing on driving, but then noticed the thick and almost foggy atmosphere. The way her body was moving and reacting was alarming. It was as if her entire body was shutting down. Her gaze became distant, her face pale, her muscles rigid. Itsuki could sense her breathing getting shallower.

"Nelly?" He carefully touched her shoulder. "Hey, what's going on—"

"Get off, don't touch me!" she flinched away from his hand, almost violently. Only a second later, she snapped out of it, her face softening a bit. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude."

What the fuck—?! Itsuki's concern rose rapidly, but he had to try his best to sound calm. "What's wrong?"

"I—" She was still trying to calm herself down. Her entire body was shaking. "It's just... I'm sorry, I can't."

"Hey, it's alright. You can tell me. I'm not going to judge. We're friends. Right?"

She kept quiet for a long while. Itsuki waited patiently, focusing on the road. But when nothing came, he got an idea.

"Nelly, why did you drop out of art school a year ago? It was always your dream; it's not like you to give up halfway. And don't say deadlines, pressure, and stress again. We both know that struggling with those is just the way issues manifest, not the cause."

She looked down and played with her fingers. She was still very clearly anxious, but her breathing got back to normal.

"Do you really wanna know?" She asked softly, her voice hesitant.

"Of course. Why else would I ask? You know you can tell me anything; I'm not the kind of guy to judge or mock."

"It might be a bit..." she swallowed, "...heavy. And it might change the way you look at me. You might want to run and end the friendship again. It's a lot. Are you sure you wanna hear it?"

"I won't run. You've been through a lot; I'm pretty sure I can handle it."

"Well, I won't blame you if you leave. Please, know that. No need for guilt later in life."

"You can't scare me off that easily," he grinned, his eyes on the road.

"Alright. But remember, you asked for it."

He gave her a nod.

She took a deep breath, preparing herself. It seemed like she didn't know where to start. But then she took out her wallet from her pocket. When she pulled out an ID card, Itsuki got a bit confused. She gave the card to him, and he looked at it.

The hole on the corner signaled that it wasn't valid anymore. It was typical for her to forget to throw it out. His focus stayed on the road, but he kept glancing at the card. Until he spotted it.

The name.

Wait, this can't be right. Her last name's Bakker. But wait... During the call earlier, when I asked who she was, she sounded like there was emotional baggage attached. Why did I not connect the dots?

His eyes widened as the realization hit. The silent implication caused the air to be dense.

"You're..."

"I was," she nodded. "And please, don't make a big deal out of this."

"To whom?"

"That guy from out of town. Met him in the middle of 12th grade. The entire school knew, because I told my friends, and it was such a massive deal that I, the most unpopular girl, the foreigner, got a boyfriend, that the entire school suddenly knew."

Right, I remember. We weren't friends anymore, but I heard it too. I actually went to congratulate her. That was the only interaction we had in 12th grade... Might've even been our last one all the way until today.

"After graduation, I moved to the city where my art school was. With him." Nelly's failed attempts at staying physically calm gave away far more than what she'd hoped for. Itsuki suddenly felt a familiar feeling, one he'd suppressed until now.

Everyone was happy for her. She seemed thrilled too. But there was always something... off. Like, her smile was forced; she wasn't actually happy, not really. She was trying to convince herself and others that she was. I told myself I was interpreting too much into it, made myself ignore and forget. I didn't want to point it out. I wanted her to be happy, so I didn't look too closely. I should've known better. I'm an idiot.

"I was young and dumb. Thought it was real love. I was always disliked and rejected by guys. That man had an easy time getting me to fall in love. The right words, the right tone. He made me feel valid, and I thought he loved me. For the first time in my life, I felt appreciated. And he liked how much of a pushover I was. How desperate for acknowledgement. He manipulated me, but I was too naïve and too in love. Too blind. I didn't want to see. Only when we moved in together, I realized he was using me. Then he showed his true colors. The way he talked to me, treated me. He was a completely different person. The person I met on the beach was gone. The person who told me he loved me was gone. The man who was my boyfriend—gone. In his place was this stranger. It was terrifying. Every day, I felt more and more trapped. Like I was living in hell. I learned quickly to not disagree or disobey. I couldn't. Not without risking consequences, like some animal he trained."

"Nelly..."

"I was too ashamed. Too scared. Too stupid. I couldn't do anything. So, I stayed. It was horrible. He treated me poorly. But only when we were alone, in the privacy of our own home. Everyone else was 100% certain he was a good person. He was charming and charismatic. Had so many friends. So popular. Always the center of attention. Always smiling. But then, at home, when the doors closed and we were alone... it was a completely different story. There, he was a monster. And I was his prey."

Nelly hugged herself, her gaze averted. Itsuki stayed quiet, listening.

"I didn't try to get out of it. Tried to just accept it. But the pain started to show in my performance decreasing. Then he proposed. In a restaurant—how the fuck was I supposed to say no? In front of all those people, the staff, the other guests. It was embarrassing. I had no choice but to agree." Her frustration sharpened, and Itsuki felt his blood starting to boil.

"We got married some months later. We're talking a year after graduating high school, so two years ago. Everyone was so happy for us, so I tried to be happy too. But my life became a carefully calculated schedule of misery. Struggling at art school, sleeping in bathrooms during breaks, not eating. Then coming home, having dinner, and doing what he told me. He controlled every aspect. I just—" Nelly's voice fractured.

Itsuki's grip on the wheel turned lethal.

"Nelly, tell me," he forced out, voice shaking with suppressed rage, "did he...?"

"He did. Every day." The shame was evident in her voice.

"That... fucking bastard," Itsuki mumbled, his jaw clenched. His head started spinning and the nausea built up quickly. Her right hand found her left wrist in a tight grip, the motion seemed subconscious. Itsuki's stomach lurched at the way she flinched at her own gesture—the reaction told him everything he needed to know.

The dashboard lights now felt like floodlights, making his throat feel even drier. The air he inhaled didn't quite reach his lungs. His eyesight narrowed into tunnel vision, and he fought hard to keep the car steady.

He slammed the brakes, swerving to the roadside.

"Itsuki?!" Nelly got scared by his sudden action, her body thrown into the seatbelt.

The dying snarl of the engine, when Itsuki turned the key, was followed by a suffocating silence. But it drowned in his war-drum heartbeat of fury.

He couldn't look at her.