You Can Never Go Back

Chapter Twenty: For All The Ghosts That Are Never Going To Catch Me

By: Jondy Macmillan

A/N: Holy fuck, twenty chapters. Not just that, but twenty chapters in like, six months. Okay, so six months sounds like a long time, but considering. I have some original stories I've worked on for like three years, and they only have five chapters. My longest story ever is thirty, and I'm not sure that this one's going to make it that long. We shall see. I have up to chapter twenty three planned so far, and I know twenty three won't be the end. K, so I'm going to dedicate this chapter to yame2012 mostly because they reviewed /favorited/alerted like every one of my stories which is one of the only things that riles me up to replying to reviews because I'm a bad, bad author- but then I wrote my review reply half drunk. So, yame2012 if you made any sense of my reply, that's amazing of you, and you deserve a dedication! Yay! K, I'm going to shut up and focus on writing a chapter here…And actually all you reviewers deserve dedications (if you're curious, I'll probably be writing a massive author note at the very end for everyone!)

Sometimes I forget that the rest of the world doesn't live in my brain. I waste days thinking helplessly about situations, analyzing ever single aspect of them, like how I screwed up with Kenny. And then, when I finally muster up the courage to go back to his place, I get confused when he doesn't seem happy to see me.

He doesn't know I've spent days thinking about him. He doesn't know what's on my mind.

Hell, maybe he doesn't even care.

"Broflovski," he acknowledges with a tired face. He's wearing a pair of blue and white flannel pajama bottoms, a black t-shirt, and has total bed head. I didn't think I'd be waking him up. It is five in the afternoon, after all.

"Hi, Kenny. You…uh, you didn't go to work today?"

"Other things on my mind," he mumbles, stepping back to let me into the apartment. He looks up at me, and I guiltily take note of the dark circles under his eyes. They're the purple blue of bruises, like he hasn't slept in days.

"Um. Oh."

I follow Kenny to his couch, where he collapses into a boneless heap. He curls his feet up next to him, wrapping his arms around his knees.

"What do you want?"

I sigh, "To apologize."

He glances up at me through his eyelashes, long and blond, like a girl's. Kenny has a really beautiful face, for a boy. His nose is fucked up from breaking it on at least four different occasions. One of which was my fault, if I recall correctly. We got in a fist fight freshman year of high school over something. I can't remember what. I wonder if he does. He's got these regal cheekbones, like he's fucking royalty or something. And then there are those gorgeous cerulean eyes, piercing right through me, even now. Not to mention his lips…

My mind is off track. It would be so much easier if I liked Kenny, instead of Stan. I do like Kenny. No really, I do. I just need to get Stan Marsh out of my head, if that's even possible. I really hope it is. I can't stand the thought of dying someday far in the future with him still hotwired into my brain. He's such an asshole.

I'm silently seething over what Stan did the other day, and I've totally forgotten that I'm here to talk to Kenny.

"Kyle?"

My cheeks redden guiltily. See this is why I can't be with him, even if he's beautiful. Even if he's an amazing friend. Even if he turns me on.

I take a deep breath, "Look, the other day when I came, I wasn't thinking straight. I shouldn't have come here, but when I'm in trouble, it seems like you're the first person I go to nowadays."

Kenny smiles slightly, but the words out of his mouth are bitter, "When you're in trouble with Stan, you mean."

"Kenny-"

"No," he says quietly, "I know. I'm the first one on your mind only when Stan isn't around. That means the other day he was the one who fucked you up. He was the one who made you like that."

"Er-how much do you know about what's been going on with me and Stan?"

Kenny bites his lips. I've never seen him look so childlike and insecure, even when he was a child. I think about the last time we really conversed about my sexuality. I thought then that Kenny's a survivor. He always has been. So why is he so broken? Why does it have to be me who breaks him? It's not fair.

"I know a bit," he says casually.

"How much is a bit?"

I know I sure as hell haven't been discussing the situation with Kenny. I talked to him about Cartman, sure, but for some reason I always skirt around the topic of Stan. Maybe because it feels too personal.

"Look, I know that something's been going on with you and Stan. I know he was fucking Craig, and then he stopped. I know…" Kenny sighs, "I know he told you he loves you."

"Where'd you hear that?"

Not from me.

"Stan. He is my friend too, even if we've drifted apart."

"Stan talks to you…about me?"

"Sometimes," Kenny says darkly, "When I feel like being a masochist."

Shit. There went my mind again. Back to Stan. Kenny deserves someone who thinks solely about him. I wish I could be that person.

"I think…we made this bet-type-thing," I tell Kenny, "That we'd try seeing if we could fall in love, in a month."

"You mean if you could fall in love with him," Kenny corrects, "He's already smitten with you."

"I don't know about that," I shake my head, running my fingers through my curly, springy hair, "The other day, we kind of kissed."

A shadow of his old self, Kenny cracks half a smile, "With tongue?"

"Perv," I shove him lightly with my fingertips. I'm scared if I do it any harder he'll shatter into pieces. That smile of his is the fakest I've ever seen. The pain behind it is tangible. Fuck me for doing this to him.

"So you like Stan?"

"I…yeah. I guess."

"Do you love him?"

"I don't know. Last time, he ran off…"

"Must be some kind of bug going around," Kenny says meaningfully, and I feel awash with a new wave of guilt.

"I shouldn't have done what I did."

"No, you shouldn't have."

"Please forgive me."

Kenny's quiet for a really long time, his eyes searching my face. Finally he says, "When you came back to South Park, I saw it as a way out."

"What?"

"I hate this town. I hate how the mechanic's shop…this apartment…this is the best I'm ever going to get."

"Kenny, that's not true-"

"Shut up and listen, Broflovski. Do me that favor."

I frown, "Okay."

"I'm gay, in a town where gay people are treated like they have the plague. My friends are self centered pricks who don't give a damn about anything other than their own fucked up issues. On top of that, I'm fucking poor, and I'm uneducated. It's like prison."

I think about when we first met. I think about that look he had in his eyes, like he wanted to escape. I recognized that look, but I never once asked him about it.

"And the thing is, even if I went somewhere else, it would be the same. Because nobody is ever going to care about me the way you and Stan care about each other. Hell, you guys were thousands of miles apart, not even speaking, and I swear to god the only thing on your minds was each other."

I feel like the biggest dick in the universe.

"I'm never going to have that, Kyle. I'm never going to have someone who cares about me that much. I thought that maybe…maybe there was a chance…? I don't fucking know. I thought wrong. I'm going to be alone, until I die…for good."

I don't like the sound of this, at all. For the first time I look at Kenny, really look at him. Not at his fragility, or his beauty, or his strength. I look at him like the friend I've known forever and a day. I look at the kid who set off stink bombs on the bus four years running, the kid who helped me learn to get rid of my paralyzing fear of riding a bike, the kid who spiked the punch during prom. This is Kenny McCormick. This is one of my best friends.

"You're not going to end up alone."

He glances up at me, his eyes rimmed red, "What?"

"Kenny, you're not going to end up alone."

"What the hell are you going to do about it? You don't want me," his eyes look hopeful for a second, "Do you?"

Agh. Great.

"I want you, just not the way you need me to. Kenny, you're one of my best friends. Stan's not the only person I missed up at college. I must have told a zillion stories about you to all my friends up there."

He blinks, smiling slightly, "Really?"

"Yeah dude!" I grin, "I haven't been the best friend as of late. For a while, actually. But I promise I'm not going to fucking leave this town unless I know you're happy. And by happy I mean that you have someone, anyone. It doesn't have to be a boyfriend. Just a friend who will care about you, talk to you…the way I should have been doing these past few years."

"What about once you finish school? I thought you wanted to get the fuck out of Colorado."

I shake my head, "No. I do, eventually. But what I want more in my life is to be a good friend. To you, to Stan. Hell, even to Cartman. I've been messing up so badly, for so long. The only times I've been completely happy is with you guys. I owe it to you to make sure you get to be happy too."

"You don't owe me anything," Kenny mumbles.

"Okay. I don't owe it to you. I want to. I want to make sure that you're happy. You deserve it, Kenny."

He's quiet. And then, "God, Broflovski, you're such a fucking sap."

I grin, and wrap an arm around his shoulders, "Just for you, McCormick."

"Aw, flatterer."

I think that's about when I realize that I'm forgiven.

"Did Cartman ever come talk to you?"

He makes a face, "That's not funny. I can't believe you sicced him on me."

"I didn't sic him. He's not a dog."

"Could have fooled me."

I laugh.

He looks me dead in the eye and says, "I swear to God, Kyle. If you let Cartman be that person, I'll shoot you in the nuts."

"I thought you like my nuts."

"I do. But I like not having sexual thoughts about Cartman even more."

"How do you know? Have you ever tried? I think you guys would make a cute couple…" I trail off, noticing the death glare that Kenny's giving me. Meekly I tack on, "Or maybe not."

He changes the subject, "You know what I never understood about your friendship with Stan?"

"What?"

"You guys always seemed to me like total opposites. You're smart. He…well, isn't at your level. He gets along with practically everyone, while you take a while to warm up to people you don't know. You've got a backbone, and well he's…Stan. You're so different."

"But we're the same, too."

"I know. Popular jocks. Handsome as fuck. You guys get off on the same movies, and even though your music taste sucks and his is awesome, he still listens to your indie shit."

"My music is not shit."

"Unh hunh," Kenny rolls his eyes, sinking deeper into the couch cushions, "I just always thought it was funny that you guys got along so well."

Kenny's right. Stan and I are a study in opposites.

"I get along well with you, too."

"That's because I'm just generally charming."

"O-kay. Sure," I laugh. Some of the light is back in Kenny's eyes. He's strong again. Maybe some of that strength comes from me. I never realized that his friends were so important to him. I never realized how alone he felt. But now that I know, I'm serious. I'm not going to let him end up by himself. That would be a tragedy, and if anyone deserves more, it's Kenny.

Before I can say or think anything else, my phone buzzes.

"I hope that's not Cartman," Kenny warns me.

"I doubt it. I think he's on dispatch duty today," I glance at the caller ID screen, "It's Wendy."

"Wonder what she wants?"

Hopefully not to invite me over to dinner again. I'm getting so damned sick of her interventions, even if she's just trying to be nice. I tell Kenny so, and he says, "Well, Stan does seem to like nosy people."

When I realize that's an insult towards me, I scowl and pick up the call, "Hey, Wendy."

Kenny's making faces next to me, crossing his eyes and trying to touch his tongue to his nose. My scowl dissolves into a smile.

"Hi, Kyle," Wendy says breathlessly, and I don't really want to know why she sounds like that.

"What's going on?"

"Oh, um. Well, this might be kind of intrusive, but I wanted to know if anything had happened between you and Stan, lately?"

My first, gut clenching thought is; she knows. I stutter, "Er-well, uh, like what?"

In her sweet voice, Wendy says thoughtfully, "I don't know, like maybe a fight or something? He's been moping around his apartment forever. I think he even skipped work a few times. I don't know what's wrong with him, and I thought that-"

"That maybe it had something to do with me?" I ask, a hint of anger in my voice.

She titters, "Yeah. You have to admit, no one affects Stan quite like you do. It's enough to make a girl jealous."

I'm sure it is. Bitch.

I start at the thought. Where the hell did that come from? I like Wendy. I've never had a problem with her before.

And then she launches into a new topic, "You know just the other night I was trying to get him into bed…like, you know…and he decided it would be more interesting to talk about you."

"Oh?" I'm interested.

"Yeah. It took a blow job to convince him to shut up," she giggles, "If you were gay, I'd be worried."

I chuckle half heartedly, "Worried I'd steal your man?"

"You are the fourth most persuasive person in this town."

"Who are the first three?"

"Me, of course. And Cartman, that fatass. And your mother," I can almost hear her smiling on the other end. She thinks she's having a funny conversation with an old school friend. Not the boy who's stealing her boyfriend away. The thing is, I can't figure out which emotion to feel. Shame for what I'm doing to Wendy or this nagging sense of jealousy that sprung up at the words 'blow job'.

Fuck.

I end up telling Wendy that I don't know what crawled up Stan's ass, and that I'll come by and visit sometime soon. And I will. We need to talk over what happened the other day. Somehow I don't think it's going to be anywhere near as light as the conversation I just had with Kenny.

After I've hung up, the blond glances at me, "So what did Wendy have to say?"

"Stan's PMS-ing. She asked if I knew why."

"Did you tell her it's because you refused his advances?"

"No," I grimace, "And I didn't refuse anything. He's the one who ran away from me."

"Stan Marsh," he muses, "Always the skittish one. That boy has serious commitment issues."

"I hadn't noticed," I respond in a dry voice.

Kenny winks, and replies sarcastically, "Happy to help."

I throw a couch cushion at him, which he skillfully dodges.

"Dude, weak," he yells.

I'm just happy he's smiling.

A/N: Okay. That chapter kind of sucked hard. So that was my fix of sappy, sentimental drivel for the day. I kind of expected their conversation to go a little differently, but Kyle decided he wanted to act like a total homo instead. I can't control what the characters want. Le sigh. Anyway, the next chapter will go back to the main drama with Stan. We might still have a few bumps in the road with Kenny, but less than there have been. Please review, guys.