Of Insecurities and Regrets
Itsuki had just returned from work. It was late spring, and he had worked a late shift. The darkness had already wrapped the outside world in its blanket.
After placing his car key on the table, Itsuki opened the fridge and looked around.
There's nothing left. I knew I should have gone to the store earlier, he thought.
He closed the door, but ended up opening it again.
Come on, there has to be something. I need something to eat—my stomach is killing me. Anything is good.
After another minute of looking, Itsuki decided that even a beer was better than a completely empty stomach. It would do the trick for what he wanted food for: to stop the feeling of emptiness and fill his stomach at least a bit.
Itsuki grabbed a can, then entered his room. After closing the door behind him, he sat down on the edge of the bed, took a long sip, and sank back against the wall, his gaze distant. The silence in the room felt loud.
Sorry, Dad. That was probably yours. I'll bring you another one tomorrow—when I go buy more food for myself anyway. I swear, I just went grocery shopping. Why does it always feel like I'm running out of food? I wish my job paid more, or that I was good enough to go to college... He closed his eyes.
The only light came from the streetlight outside the window. It was very weak and only gave off a bit of brightness through the curtains—just enough that Itsuki could see the outlines of the room, but not the details.
But that didn't matter, as everything just faded away, and he got lost in thought.
Itsuki found his mind wandering and replaying a moment during work.
As he cracked another joke, he received the usual blank stares from his friends. The laughter never came. He felt the familiar ache tugging at his chest but pushed it away, his lips curving into a wider grin.
Keep the jokes coming, keep them laughing. It's all you've got.
"Itsuki, when will you stop laughing at your own lame jokes? You're what, 21 now? You're still acting the same as when you started working here," Kenji said.
"Yeah, man. It was already like that at school. It's been years and we still don't get your so-called jokes. Try to grow up a little," Iketani said.
"Hey, not my fault my humor is ahead of its time and goes over your heads. Maybe you two just lack the intellect to get it," Itsuki replied with a smug grin.
Confidence. Don't let them see their words hurt your feelings. You're a man, there are no feelings to be hurt, he told himself.
"Yeah, that has to be it." Iketani's words were full of sarcasm.
"Well, if you're so intellectual, why are you working at a gas station with us dumbasses?" Kenji asked, chuckling.
"Hey, I'm just here temporarily. Until I can go somewhere else," Itsuki replied, trying not to let the bitterness seep into his voice.
Quit whining. This is just what friends do. They banter. You don't want to be even more lonely, right? Don't let them see it. Keep the mask on.
"Go where? There's nowhere else for losers like us. Besides, you've been here for four years or something," Kenji said.
"Yeah, so quit dreaming," Iketani added.
Itsuki smiled and forced himself to stay cheerful.
"Who cares, though? As long as we have each other, it's fine. Right, buddies?" He grinned while energetically wrapping his arms around his friends' shoulders. His over the top silly act was at its fullest.
"Sure, Itsuki. We have to go back to work now, or the boss will get mad." They shook their heads and walked away. Itsuki looked after them as they left his playful embrace. His arms dropped to his sides just like the corners of his mouth. He took a deep breath, exhaling this crushing heaviness, and forced his lips back into a smile before going on with work as well.
That's when he returned to the present.
That was so painfully embarrassing. They hate me, it's clear. They're friends with each other, but not me. No wonder. They are probably right. No matter how much I try to cheer them up and lighten the mood, nothing changes. They will never see me as more than just a clown. Annoying, hyperactive, overly cheerful and stupid. That's how they see me. But it's my own fault—this is how I present myself. I wish I could turn it off, be sincere and genuine for once. I can't help it, though, it just happens. And I'm not even a useful clown either—not funny, just a fool, he cringed at the memories, his left hand running through his black hair self-consciously.
Itsuki felt like he was drowning in that emptiness and loneliness, that had always been lingering beneath his smile. The laughter, like water, muffled his silent battle against his own isolation. His insecurities dragged him further down into the depths.
I should just be quiet. Don't show my negative emotions. It's weak. And nobody cares. Why should they? The words of a jester don't matter, his head fell into his hands, the fingers digging into his hair, pulling it.
What is the point of me, if I can't even make people laugh? I'm not smart, not strong, not talented. All I've got is my sense of humor and that's not good enough. Nothing I say is funny. They just laugh at me, but never because of a joke or funny story. But that doesn't matter. A laugh is a laugh, if it costs my dignity, so be it. Never had much of it anyway.
He took another sip of his beer. It wasn't enough to make him feel the alcohol, but the placebo effect was great enough to numb some of the pain.
The alarm clock flashed 11:23 p.m. Itsuki stared at it, the minutes dragging by, which made him sigh.
I'm not tired at all, but very exhausted. Not even physically. It just feels pretty draining to be so hyperactive all the time.
Itsuki drained the last of his beer, the bitter taste lingering. He placed the can on the bedside table, the clink echoing in the silence. A long breath escaped his nose, his shoulders sagging. He stared at the empty room, feeling it swallow him whole.
Just then, the loud ringing of the phone cut through the silence.
Who the fuck would call at this hour? Damn it, my parents are trying to sleep!
Itsuki hesitated. After the second ring, there was an unexplainable but slight discomfort in his entire body. So he got up and left his room to take the call in the living room before his parents woke up.
"Hello?" he asked into the receiver, trying not to be too loud.
"Hey, uhm, is this Itsuki?" The voice that came after a few seconds of hesitation sounded familiar. It was a female voice.
That awkward way of asking, like she said something weird, or asked a dumb question. I know her. But from where?
"Yes, it is. Who is this?"
"Ah, uhm... This is, this is Nelly. From high school? Remember me?" Itsuki noticed the slight shake in her voice.
Nelly... Right. I remember her. That European girl from my class. We were... pretty good friends in 10th grade, he felt the sting in his heart, a wave of guilt crashing over him. Not sure if I like her tone, though.
He sat down on the ground next to the phone. Distracted by the call itself, not caring about the discomfort of the hard and cold floor. The cable was long enough, just barely.
"Nelly... Bakker?"
"Bakker..." she went quiet after repeating. The next part became monotonous. "Right. Yes, that's me."
Itsuki heard the way she spoke, but he didn't want to question it further. It did, however, leave a tense feeling in his gut.
"Nells? Hey! Yeah, of course. I haven't seen you in forever. What's up?" Almost instinctively, his tone shifted to a more cheerful one. Like always in social situations.
"Sorry, it's so late and everything. I hope I didn't wake you or something..."
"Oh, no, no. I just got home from work. Why are you calling at this hour? Did something happen?" Itsuki was genuinely worried—he didn't like her voice at all, as it made his stomach twist slightly.
"I—" She swallowed her sentence and sighed defeatedly. "No. Nothing happened. I just randomly thought about you and wondered what you were up to and if you were okay. Guess I got an answer. So yeah, everything is wonderful. Have a good night." She tried to sound cheerful.
Itsuki wasn't convinced. "You know, you sound really upset. Is something bothering you? Please, tell me." He was getting concerned, his brows furrowed and the nonchalant tone was gone. In no way was he buying her pretend cheerfulness.
I haven't heard from her since graduating; three years ago. And now she calls me—at midnight? No way this is just a check-in.
"Ah, no. It's nothing. Sorry. Just forget I called. I don't want to bother you or anything. Have a nice night. Bye." Nelly's voice broke, but the line was already dead.
"Wait!" his voice echoed through the darkness and emptiness.
Itsuki felt a few heartbeats pumping through his throat when she hung up. He looked at the phone in his clammy, trembling hand, frowning.
Something is up. I need to make sure she's okay. I was a terrible friend back in high school. That's why we didn't talk much in the last two years of it. I owe this to her.
He dialed her number.
"Come on, pick up, pick up," he mumbled as the phone rang.
"What is it, Itsuki?" she finally picked up.
"Tell me the truth. You were crying—I can hear it. Are you okay?" he asked, concerned.
"No, no, no. It's nothing, just a headache."
Itsuki heard her voice break again—a quiet sob.
"Nelly..." he muttered, then his eyes widened as he noticed several things: the slight echo after every word she spoke, and the sound of water gushing, as relentless as the silence between her words. "Where are you right now?"
"At home. But really, no need to worry. If you want to talk, we'll talk"—there was a short, barely noticeable pause and a swallow—"tomorrow."
"I don't think so. You're lying. Where are you? Are you taking a bath or something? I hear water running."
She was silent for a few seconds. The only audible sound was the water.
"Nells, please. Don't lie to me. Tell me, where are you?"
"Okay. Fine. I really am at home. In the bathroom. Going to take a bath soon, to calm the nerves."
Bullshit. A relaxing bath... She really thinks I believe that?
"What is going on?"
"Nothing. I just felt the stupid need to check on someone I haven't heard from in years. No idea why. Really."
"I don't believe you. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, of course."
"Nelly."
"Fine. Not really. But I'll be fine."
"Please, Nells. Don't lie. Do you want to talk about it? You can talk to me—we can help each other. Please. We can talk through the whole night, if that's what you need."
I owe her that much, at least. I abandoned her. After hanging out almost daily for a while, in 10th grade. Sometimes we'd even talk about our problems, I was probably the only one she opened up to. She was unpopular—the only foreigner. A real dick move to just stop talking to her. I know that now. That really hurt her, and I didn't even care. What a jerk...
"Really, Itsuki. There's no need to. Thank you, though. You're still the same, caring person. But don't worry about me. I'm just tired and a bit stressed. That's why I'll take that bath. I just wanted to let you know that you were a great friend back in the day, and I really appreciate the time we spent. Sorry for the late-night call. I don't know what my stupid brain was thinking. Just told me to see how an old friend is doing."
Itsuki didn't need to think. He spoke out of instinct—the words forming themselves.
"I'm getting the feeling that you're not tired at all, and won't be able to sleep. Wanna go for a drive? Catch up, for old times' sake?" he said. It sounded normal and energetic enough to not let her know what he was suspecting.
"Come on, we can meet up tomorrow if you really are interested in being friends again. No need to—"
"I can't wait that long. Come on. I'm not tired either. What do you say? It's been forever since I've seen you. I'm dying to talk and laugh about random shit again. I'll drive—didn't I tell you back in 10th grade that we'd go driving once I had my license? Let's do that. Where are you staying at the moment?"
"Now? I don't know, Itsuki..."
"Come on, please. I'm already at the car." He lied.
Nelly sighed. "Fine. I still live at my mom's place."
"Same—still living at home. I'll be there in ten."
"Yeah, fine. See ya."
"See you, Nells. Be there in a sec."
When they hung up, he jumped to his feet, and rushed to the table. At the first attempt to grab the car key, it slipped through his fingers which had become sweaty. But he succeeded the second time, and went straight to his white AE85.
She's in trouble. This is the last chance I get to make up for abandoning her. If I screw this up, it's over.
He quickly drove toward her place, where he used to pick her up back when they hung out.
It was late—almost all the streets were empty. The few cars driving around were much less of a problem than his state of mind. His hands gripping the wheel tightly, his foot on the gas nearly having a cramp and his eyes jumping from point to point. The pounding of his heart was almost audible.
Just a few more blocks, and I'll be there. Please, please, please don't do anything. I beg you, drain the water, get dressed and stand outside the house. Please, please, please...
His mind was racing.
I don't even know exactly why she called. But there has to be a reason—some cry for help, maybe, to the friend she once trusted. Just hold on, Nells. I'm almost there.
Itsuki pulled into her street, the tires screeching as he took the turn with high speed.
She didn't want me to come, that's obvious. Nelly always tries her hardest not to be a burden, even though she isn't one. I bet she was hoping I'd give up and leave her alone. Like I did then. I'm the shittiest friend... But I won't abandon her again. Not this time.
He pulled up in front of her house, all the windows looked like portals into the same darkness he was just suffocating in until she called. The porch light was on, though.
After a few seconds, the door opened and a girl with light-brown, wavy hair came out. It was long, almost reaching her waist.
Nelly had always had her hair cut shoulder long, but it seemed to have grown a lot in the three years. She didn't wear any makeup, her face pale.
Itsuki rolled down the window. "Get in." He leaned over, and opened the door when he noticed her just standing motionless at the side walk.
Nelly hesitated still.
"Come on, I'm not gonna bite. Don't make me drag you into the car," he said, grinning.
He was trying his best to sound and look a balance between casual and funny, and serious and compassionate.
She snapped out of it and smiled—a hint of sadness on her face—and then got into the passenger seat. The sound of the door closing echoed through the quiet night.
"Thanks. For showing up. For caring. Even after everything. I didn't expect you to care anymore, if I'm being honest." She avoided his gaze, her voice quiet. "I was a pretty annoying friend. All I did was complain about my problems and make terrible jokes." Nelly chuckled, looking out the window.
"Oh, please. You weren't annoying, and your jokes were awesome," he said, smiling.
Itsuki looked at her, waiting for her to look back, but she kept staring out the window.
She didn't change at all. Still blaming herself for everything. Still far too selfless. I'm just grateful something made her call me. I can't shake the feeling that something really bad was going to happen if I didn't show up. I'm so glad I did.
"Do you wanna go somewhere specific, or should I just drive around aimlessly?" he asked, pulling his eyes away from her.
"Aimless is good. Thanks."
"Alright." Before he hit the gas, Itsuki noticed the absence of her seatbelt. "Seatbelt."
"You sound like a boring old man," she laughed.
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Put it on," he shook his head, chuckling, starting the engine.
"Fine." She reached for the buckle.
They drove through the night, the headlights pierced through the surrounding darkness, which was only interrupted by occasional streetlights and traffic lights.
Itsuki was focusing on the road. But that didn't stop him from looking over to her sometimes. The silence was kind of comforting.
Wow, you haven't changed much since 12th grade, have you? Still look like back when you were 18. I guess I haven't changed much either. I still look like a boy. Act like it too, usually. But right now, I'm calm and serious. I'm just glad you're fine. But for how much longer? You don't seem too stable right now..., he thinks.
"So, how've you been, Nells? Didn't you get accepted into an art school?" Itsuki asked, trying to break the silence.
"Yes, I did. But I dropped out about two years after starting. So a year ago," she answered, her eyes still glued to the window. Her hands weren't doing a good job of hiding her distress, despite her attempts of keeping them still in her lap.
"Why? That doesn't seem like you."
"Yeah, well. Things have changed since school. Stuff's gotten complicated. The pressure, expectations, and deadlines were too much for me."
"How so? The Nelly I remember was quite the hardworking type. You never complained about pressure or anything. Why is this different?"
"Something just changed, okay?" she raised her voice a bit, sounding frustrated. Itsuki felt the sudden outburst of his usually calm friend resonating through his body, startling him a bit.
She took a deep breath and calmed down, lowering her gaze.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to yell."
"It's fine. But is there anything I can do to help you, Nells? You know, we used to be really close and could talk about everything."
"No, there isn't. You already did everything," she whispered.
"Huh? What do you mean?"
She turned her head to look at him. It was the first time in years her green eyes made contact with his dark brown ones.
"You just saved my life."
Her gaze was intense. Itsuki was taken aback—he hadn't expected her to say that.
It felt like the breath caught in his throat could make him suffocate. His mind raced, the memory of their earlier phone call still fresh, the little hints she had let slip. The bathroom. Her voice breaking. The bathtub filling up. He felt his heart pound in his chest. It wasn't just a bad night. She wasn't just upset. His suspicion turned out to be true.
He swallowed hard, his gaze became unfocused.
She was about to end it. I... stopped her...
The weight of it hit him like a physical blow. If he hadn't come—if he hadn't pushed through her walls—Nelly would have been gone. He couldn't even use the proper words in his mind. The thought was too heavy, too final. And the worst part, he never even would've known. They stopped being friends five years ago, haven't seen each other in three. He wouldn't even have been able to attend her funeral. The death of someone who used to be one of his best friends would've just stayed unknown to him.
He tried to swallow the lump in his throat.
"Hey, are you alright?" she asked, placing her hand on his shoulder.
Her touch was so gentle, the worry in her voice so sincere, that it was almost unbearable. This was so typical for her—pushing away her own issues once she took note of someone else's pain.
Itsuki looked over at her and couldn't help himself but smile.
"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that question?" he said, chuckling, his eyes focused on the street again.
"Well, are you okay?" Nelly asked again, ignoring his response.
"Yes, I am. You're the one I should be worried about," he answered, a slight sting in his voice.
"Don't worry. I already feel better." She gave him a rather genuine smile.
"Do you wanna talk about it?"
"Maybe some other time. When I'm feeling more up to it. I'm not really ready for that."
"Whenever you are, then."
They sat in silence for a while, Nelly was still staring out the window, and Itsuki focused on the street ahead of them.
Nelly started grinning, the sudden enthusiasm after something emotionally heavy all too familiar to Itsuki.
"Hey, Itsuki. Remember that one time we almost burnt down the school?" she said, chuckling. All of a sudden, the mood became lighter, even though the anguish didn't leave the surrounding air completely.
"How could I ever forget that?" he said, joining her. His chuckle genuine for the first time in ages.
