You Can Never Go Back

Chapter 11: And I Didn't Feel a Thing

By: Jondy Macmillan

A/N: Thanks for the reviews guys! Keep 'em coming.

When I went for the interview with the accounting firm, they asked me three things. Where do I see myself in five years? What is my goal in life? Do I think I'm an asset to their business? The honest answer was I don't know. Now I'm sitting cross legged on top of the same green bedspread I've had since elementary school, trying to figure out where I went wrong.

Well, not in the interview. I'm my mother's son, and I managed to bullshit the answers the way I knew they wanted. Obviously I got the internship. But now I'm just staring at the ceiling, thinking, shit. I really don't know. In five years…I thought I would have graduated, rented a house in Boston, found a kickass job, and maybe a girlfriend with nice tits. My goal was to be happy. And I thought I'd be an asset to someone, someday. Being kicked out of my university destroyed everything. In five years, all I'm hoping is I'll be out of South Park. I have no goal, other than that. I don't feel like an asset to anybody. In fact, I feel like a royal fuck up.

Stan loves me.

I don't want to think about that.

Does he want to kiss me? Does he want to fuck me?

Probably.

That's it. This town is fucking crazy. My once best friend wants in my pants. My other two close friends want in my pants. I want to go buy a fucking chastity belt because I'm mighty scared that my anal virginity is up for grabs. While rape is a harsh word, I wouldn't be surprised if someone has it on the table. Mainly Cartman. Kenny's a close second.

I'm short changing Kenny, I know. He hasn't actually done anything other than help me and flirt. Still. It's the principal of the thing. The thing where he wants to have sex with me. I think. He could have been joking. I'm almost positive he wasn't.

Color me very confused.

I have three voice mails on my cell.

The first goes like this:

"Aye! Jew! Pick up, you fucking kike! I confessed something to you, bitch, and I expect an answer! Are you listening, Kahl? Goddamnit. You're totally screening this. Why are you such an asshat?"

The second goes like this:

"Suck my balls, Jew."

The third…

"Hi, Kyle! It's Wendy. Um, I guess you heard about my little break with Stan. But-oh, that's over now. We're back together. Anyway, it's been a while since you've come around, and Stan's been moping about it. I think he thinks you hate him for some reason. Don't tell him I said that though. He'd be pretty pissed if he knew I was sticking my nose where it didn't belong. Why don't you come over for dinner sometime soon, kay? Bye!"

Wendy's all bright and cheerful and I hate her for sounding so happy. It's gotten to this point, where I'm jealous of the false happiness of my cunthead best friend's girlfriend, who has no idea she's being cheated on. Who has no idea that he's in love with…me.

I agree with Cartman. Goddamnit is really the only word left to use.

This is how it is right now. Three days have gone by. Stan's being a dick when we're in public, and the rare times we're in private quarters, like that awkward night two days ago where mom thought it would be fun to have a family picnic with the Marshes. In the snow in fucking March, but I'll focus on the more positive aspect of Stan completely ignoring me the entirety of the event. That whole day, I was so mad at him. He'd only just confessed to me the night before, and already he was acting this way. Then, just as we got ready to go, my mom muttering obscenities about Stan being such a rude young man now, he looked at me. He smiled. And for that minute, he was just that scrawny childhood friend of mine. The next day I saw him in the super market, and we were back to ignoring each other. I'm guessing he really can't stand the fact that he confessed to me. If things weren't fucked up beyond all belief, I might be able to handle this better.

I invite Kenny over for dinner. Up till this point, I don't think mom actually believed me when I said I was going out to spend time with friends. That's part of the reason she roped me into the picnic with the Marshes. I think she's of the opinion that I've been gallivanting around with hussies that I met on the job search. Moses, I wish. Instead the only hussies I get are my friends.

Anyway, Kenny's kind of the only person I'm comfortable with right now. When he told me he wanted me, I still think he half meant it as a joke, or to tease me. I'm probably horrifically wrong; in fact, I think I've already professed to knowing he was genuine, but since I can't gauge how serious he was about it, I'm not letting it bother me. Maybe a little. Cartman's quote unquote love confession was so unexpected and so nauseating that I just really can't tolerate being around the fat boy right now, and Stan's…well…I don't know. I may be smart, but I'm not a fucking genius. Evidenced by the fact I got kicked out of school for partying too hard. I almost wish I'd sucked it up and argued like a feral cat to stay in school. Then I never would have had to come back to South Park. Nothing's the same as I remember it, and I really wish it was.

When Kenny comes over we shoot the breeze for a little while on my back deck. I'm sitting in a canvas chair soaked through with snow and ice, but I can barely feel it through my ski pants and parka. Have I mentioned that I really hate the cold? Once I get some kind of degree, I'm moving to Tahiti. On the other hand I doubt the humidity will do wonders for my hair.

I'm the one that starts the conversation.

"What are the odds that all four of us turned out gay?"

"I think it would kick that nature versus nurture argument right square in the balls," Kenny replies mischievously, "Because it's obvious the way we were raised had something to do with it. We can't all have just naturally been like this."

I think about it. It makes my head hurt. I'm not out to solve any of the cardinal questions; who am I, is there a God, are people born gay or just made that way? Yeah. I don't care, really. I was just asking to hear myself speak, I think. Sometimes it's nice to hear things out loud.

"I guess it doesn't matter."

"Why Kyle," Kenny puts on this affected Southern drawl that sort of clashes with the Midwestern twang of his natural voice, "Are you trying to admit something here? About your sexuality?"

"No," I cross my arms. He isn't going to drag this out of me. Absolutely not.

He sobers quickly, "You haven't seemed particularly happy of late."

Well, what does he expect? I've gone from finding out one of my friends is gay to finding out they all have raging hard-ons for me. Oh no, that wasn't upsetting at all.

Unhappy, I glare at Kenny.

"You know, I don't want to put any pressure on you," he says softly, a frown twisting his lips, "I told you I want to fuck you. That's…well, that's true. I know you've been wondering. But...you're going to hate me for saying this. Shit, dude. I love you…I sort of mean it in the friends sense, though. I mean, I'm interested in you. Definitely. Kyle, you're the freshest thing to hit this town in a while, and that ass-"

He smirks when I make a little yowl of protest.

"-that ass is fi-ine," the blonde continues, just to irritate me, "But I'm not telling you to mess with your mind. I know you've got a lot on your plate lately."

Goddamnit. Fuck. So he really wasn't playing around before. He loves me too. Everyone loves me, or likes me in Cartman's case. And I don't love anyone. Now I feel like a heartless jerkoff. He smiles, this tentative little thing. Great. Now he's going to be one of those considerate guys with a crush on me. That's so nice. The main problem being, I still am not fucking gay!

"Thanks Ken," I glare at him, "Real helpful."

He smiles cheekily, "I live to help."

"I bet I could fix that," I grumble, thinking of all the different ways there are to actually kill Kenny. My mom wouldn't jive with the blood on the carpet though, and since he's already getting up and going inside, that idea is moot.

I follow him. My head's full on pounding now.

"You really mean it, about no pressure?" I ask, playing the devil's advocate. Kenny's got a lot of experience with the devil.

"I mean it."

His cerulean eyes are bright and sincere. He's not going to charge at me and kiss me. This is a completely different feeling than I got from Stan the other night. I can't decide whether I like it better or worse. He's got me captured in his gaze, and the moment feels…light. There's no intensity here. This isn't Cartman trying to rape me, or Stan putting all his emotions on my shoulders. This is just Kenny, who's going to be fine, either way, no matter what I decide. He's a survivor.

My gaze sweeps over his face, his devilish smirk, the way his hair goes white blonde at the shaggy tips, how his eyebrows are so light they're barely there, and how he can never quite erase the grease stains on his cheeks. His neck muscles are there, not pronounced, but definitely visible, straining ever so slightly in my direction. His torso is long. I can almost see this little pale patch of skin where his parka's hanging open and his wife beater's riding up. I can see the light, nearly invisible hair that trails from his belly button downwards. I…

My butt vibrates.

I'm still watching Kenny.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

"Aren't you going to get that?" Kenny inquires mildly.

Okay.

I pick up.

I tell the caller, "I will not suck your balls, Cartman."

Then I hang up.

Whatever the airy moment that just passed was, it's gone now. Kenny's in hysterics, clutching his stomach and belly-laughing like I just told the funniest joke ever. I'm still stuck on the fact that I was checking him out. Honestly. As…as something. I don't know.

My feelings are more jumbled than a rubber band ball, and I can't figure out whether I was just looking at Kenny like I'd look at a girl, or if I was just daydreaming in general.

Kenny's finally managed to stop laughing, and he pulls a chair out from my kitchen table set, straddling it so that his hands and head are resting on the backrest. Stan was sitting there a few nights ago. Yelling at me. Telling me things. Things I will not think about.

"Kyle, dude. Priceless. This is why he likes you so much. You're the only one who just will not put up with his shit."

"You knew that Cartman was that into me?" I feel kind of betrayed by his not sharing this knowledge. Maybe it would have helped me avoid getting ruthlessly attacked by the fat fuck's lips. Twice.

Kenny eyes me, "Duh. He's been jonesing for your ass since elementary. If all that cussing and manipulation targeted at you wasn't a tip off, I don't know what was. It's like how Wendy used to pull Stan's hair when were five. That's how she roped him in."

"Okay, trying to kill me is not quite the same thing as having a crush, Ken."

The blonde rolls his eyes and retorts, "He gave you AIDS. He tried to get you to suck his balls, and then he gave you AIDS. Seriously, Kyle."

Shit. Okay, when you say it like that, it does sound like I've been missing something.

"He probably has some twisted Nazi-Jew-Concentration camp fantasy, which is why he's been so fixated on you forever."

I shudder. So don't want to go there.

"I bet he couldn't even say he loves you."

"You've got that right."

"He does though."

I slide into the chair across from him, protesting, "What? Kenny!"

"No, hear me out. I tried to tell you last time, but you were like, no Kenny. He's just fucking with me. Look, as far as Eric Cartman knows how to love, he loves you. I'm not saying that this emotion of his is the same as, say, how I love you."

I groan, slamming my head into the table, "Just had to throw that in there, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah."

"Continue."

"So anyway, he doesn't have the same emotion, but it's still an emotion. I'm not saying that you should take him up on it or that even if you did, it would end up being anything other than some sadistic trick of his. I'm just saying the feeling exists. Know that you made Cartman feel something other than disgust for all mankind, feel proud, and move on."

"He kissed me."

"Again?"

"Mmm," I nod slowly. I know we talked about the library incident, and I know Kenny did try to say something about Cartman's infatuation. I blew him off. Because of that I wasn't even going to mention the most recent incident. Something about him makes me want to open up to him though. I wonder if I'm just using him as my replacement Stan.

"Yeah?" Kenny frowns, bites his lip, "Yeah. He would. He's got balls."

After a minute he asks, "How was it?"

"I…it made me feel…"

Okay, he didn't ask THAT last time. No way am I admitting that the first kiss, the one that wasn't all sweet and un-Cartman-like, made me a little horny. Kenny doesn't need to know that. I tell him anyway.

"Kyle, you dog," he says, laughing.

The next thing I know he's got his elbows propped up on the table, reaching across for the collar of my coat. He's pulling me forward, and maybe I'm half accepting it because I'm still hypnotized by those damnable blue eyes. I let him crush his lips to mine, and they're infinitely softer than Cartman's, and then I'm being pinned down on my own fucking kitchen table, where my family eats dinner together every night and Ike tells us all about school. Kenny's fingers, fuck, those fingers, are nimbly unzipping my jacket, and his is already unzipped and his shirt is riding up. Those abs he gets from working in that sweatshop of an auto body repair place all day are firm under my palms, way more than any girl's would be. I'm panting into his mouth, vaguely wondering if this is what it would be like with Stan, and then GOD, Kenny's mouth is on my neck, his tongue lavishing way too much attention over my Adam's apple and where my jaw connects with my ear. I'm bucking up into his body, into his fingers. He's kissing me again, hard.

I'm enjoying it way too much, but I don't think about that, letting him pull my jacket off entirely, letting him yank my vintage 'The Cure' shirt off over my head, letting him do pretty much anything he wants to me because his kisses are that fucking amazing. And then, just when I think that maybe I'm starting to lose too much control, his mouth is on my ear, hot breath and flicks of his tongue clouding my judgment.

He whispers, "See how slutty your body can be?"

I go rigid. He pulls back. He smirks. He jumps off the table set and fixes his shirt like nothing just happened. I watch, quiet, as he pulls on his jacket and says, "Kyle, you have some things you need to think about. I'm not going to fuck that up for you."

It's only the fact that his breathing is still hard and his face slightly flushed that tells me he's not as put together as he's trying to seem.

"Think about it," he tells me, and then he leaves.

I'm sitting half naked on top of the kitchen table when my mom and Ike walk in.

Shit. My ears are ringing. My mother has a voice like a banshee. When she finally got over the fact my butt was marring the semi-gloss of the table, she went in on me for not spending enough time with Ike. Which is true, but I've been kind of stuck between job hunting, avoiding her, and drama. The only free time I have between, Ike's usually in school.

Apparently those aren't good reasons for not hanging out with my baby brother, so now I'm supposed to spend tomorrow after work taking him to the movies. It's not that big a deal. Ike's a cool kid. He's smart, which is more than I can say for the rest of this town, and he's friendlier than I ever was in high school.

I guess I was just hoping to use tomorrow to think.

Sweet Jesus. I don't know what to do. All I really can comprehend is the fact that saying 'I don't know' all the time is not only annoying, but it's making me into one whiny little bastard. Fuck. Okay. Time to analyze.

Am I into boys?

No. Not at all. Barring what just happened with Kenny, and that one time with Cartman, I find that I am part of the cult of the poontang. I love pussy. Right.

Do I find Cartman or Kenny sexually attractive?

No. Big blobs of fat don't do it for me. Kenny…I mean, anyone would react when someone's sucking their neck like that. Fuck, do I have a hickey? I'll have to check before I hit the sack. But anyway, when he's not all tongue and lips, Kenny's just another guy. A friend, but not a sexy friend. Definitely. I think.

Do I find Stan sexually attractive?

That would be a big hell no. I mean, I get that he's entirely a stud, or so several of the girls in high school and several college friends might have claimed. I can conceptualize that, but it doesn't really ring true with me. There's this niggling feeling in the back of my mind that what I just did with Kenny might have been even better with Stan, but I nix that thought. Even if I was into guys, Stan is Stan. He's the kid I grew up with, having farting contests and trying to see who could down chimichangas fastest. That's not really a recipe for love.

Love. Shit. Do I love Stan?

Yeah. Of course I do. He's my childhood best friend. I want him to be my best friend again, desperately so. I just don't love him in the I-want-to-get-in-your-pants kind of way. But he loves me. They all love me. Even Cartman, according to Kenny.

And now they all want me to tell them which of them I love back. Have they even considered the possibility that the answer is none of them? They must've. So why tell me at all? I mean, sure, I love them all in a platonic, let's drink and watch football together and maybe cry, but only at your grandmother's funeral sort of way. But do I love any of them in that true love chick flick romantic sort of way? No. They must know that. They have to. I don't get why all three of them are of the impression that telling me their feelings would get them anywhere. Why risk our friendship over it? Maybe they all know me well enough that they realize I'm cool enough to let it slide. Or maybe they just couldn't hold it in anymore.

I think of Kenny saying that he wouldn't push me.

Obviously I wouldn't mind a little below the belt action. Well, I think I would mind, but according to Kenny the way my 'slutty body' reacts kind of conflicts with what I think. This whole true love thing though…I'm only twenty three. I'm not ready to make a life decision. I don't know if I'll ever be ready. What good is it being so damned smart if you can't graduate school, can't decide who to date, can't even support yourself in any single fucking way? I'm hopeless. I don't want to hurt any of my friends. They mean so damned much to me that the thought of losing any of them is stifling, even Cartman. But I don't want to lead them on either. All this attention is nice, but completely unwanted. I think. I hope. God, I'm fucked.

Can I let this get between us?

I could. It would be easy. As easy as that fight at the bus depot that caused Stan and I not to talk for three years.

Do I want to let it?

No. I don't want to live without Stan in my life, without any of them. I can do it. I have done it. I don't want to. I think I need them, Stan especially. To keep me focused. To keep me sane. All I did at college was party and study and forget who I was. Now that I'm back in South Park, and much as I hate it, I'm starting to remember that I have goals. I have dreams. And even though I've spent most of my time with Stan fighting, with Kenny drinking, and with Cartman yelling, I think they're somehow a part of me rediscovering all that. Mainly Stan. I've spent so much time psychoanalyzing him that I'm starting to learn things I didn't know about myself.

I need him to keep challenging me like that. I need them all.

This is killing me.

Right before I go brush my teeth, I check my neck in the mirror. There's a dark purple bruise, right below my ear.

Thanks a lot, Kenny.

A/N: I know, I know. Get to the we can't live without each other part! Don't worry. This is a style fic, much as it looks like Kyle's doomed to be perpetually straight, or even that he might be swayed by Kenny. I cannot suffer a straight man to stay that way in fanfiction though, so we'll be getting on with it soon. We need to have more deliberation about Cartman and Kenny, more awkward moments, and more old friends. I was initially intending for this to be shorter than seven chapters or so. I then realized it would have to be WAY longer. Now I think I COULD wrap it up in like, three chapters more, but that would be boring, wouldn't it? I think Kyle needs some time to figure things out, and needs to share some hot hot kisses and groping with some other people, including Staney. I think I also need to spend some more time getting inside Stan's head. South Park marathon!

Have I mentioned I'm trying to graduate college this semester? Hoo boy. Maybe I should quit writing and get to studying.

Or not.