You Can Never Go Back
Chapter 3:You Say We've Got Nothing in Common
By: Jondy Macmillan
Disclaimer: If I made that kind of money, I'd have better things to do with my time than write fanfiction.
A/N: Reviews=love. No reviews=no love for you.
There are moments in our life that we hold dear, moments that can never be duplicated or revisited. The kind of moments when your heart isn't even a consideration, because you're just feeling too much, too soon, and way, way too hard. It's moments like these that make your soul soar. They're amazing. They're the kind of moments that make you feel like living isn't a chore, but a blessing. I've been lucky in life; I've had a lot of these moments.
Meeting Stan Marsh was actually one of those moments for me, as faggy as it sounds.
We were barely even toddlers. Somehow Sharon Marsh got sucked into one of my mom's activist schemes; I think it was about saving the fertile farmland of our quiet mountain town from urban sprawl. My mom likes boring things like that. Sharon and my mom hit it off, leaving little baby Stan and me to play on our own. I'd never seen a kid like him. Actually I hadn't really seen many kids at all then; my mom was still in her uber-protector phase, with me being her first born and all.
He was rosy cheeked and startlingly blue eyed, with a shock of black hair only just starting to emerge from his bulbous little head. Stan had a funny looking head. It was shaped sort of like a basketball. Then again mine was sort of like a wheel of cheese, at least in the old pictures I've seen. We couldn't talk yet then, still being made up of mostly baby fat and gums. He cooed something unintelligible at me, and I did the same.
My heart was never involved in the equation. I just knew that I liked this boy, and that he was going to be a part of my life forever. He was a kindred spirit. It was only later, when things got complicated, that my heart became attached. He became the most important thing in the world to me, until I abandoned him in South Park. Even then, he didn't hold it against me. He always supported my choices, from going to school in New England to what color boxers I decided to buy at the local department stores.
I think of the stormy eyed man at the trailer park and wonder for the hundredth time what had happened to my super best friend.
It takes me a while to find Kenny in the throes of the party. He's flirting with a blonde girl who's wearing too much eyeliner and doesn't seem very interested in whatever Kenny's saying. Poor guy. He always had the potential to be an incorrigible flirt, but he's such a perv that he never had the right way with the ladies. Only his looks saved him in high school. I sigh and interrupt him, despite the fact that he looks murderously close to dumping his beer over my head for cock blocking.
"She wasn't going to go for you anyway," I explain.
The blonde frowns, "You think?"
"I know," I tell him wisely. We dodge a group that has decided to start an impromptu keg stand session. The poor mini-skirted girl they decide to lift into the air nearly nails Kenny in the head with a stiletto, but we're both more occupied by the fact you can totally see down her skirt. It's hard to wipe the wicked grins off both Kenny's face and mine after that.
Then I remember what I came to find him for. I pull him away from the keg, where the girl only manages to suck down icy cold beer for a grand total of two seconds before spitting it all over some Hispanic guy in baggy jeans.
"Sick, dude," he yelps and jumps back, hitting the side of the trailer. Kenny and I ignore him.
"What's up?"
"Erm-" I deftly grab his beer, taking a sip before starting the conversation, "I kind of just found Stan."
"Stan's here?" Kenny whistles, "That's rare. Wendy doesn't usually let him out at night."
"They're living together?" I ask.
"No," Kenny laughs, "She just tucks him in before she heads out to work. So wait, Stan's here? Why isn't he with you? I would've expected it to be one hell of a reunion."
"You can say that again. I kind of interrupted him."
"Interrupted him how?" Kenny asks, genuinely curious. For a pervert, he doesn't really grasp dirty things too quickly.
"Erm…coitus interruptus?" I say, thinking of a nice way to put it. Kenny's still staring at me blankly.
"He was fucking some girl up against the back of the trailer," I explain when I realize the blue eyed boy is no closer to grasping what I'm saying.
"Ohhhh," Kenny takes a long swig of his beer then, and something unrecognizable flashes in his eyes, "Was it Wendy?"
I thought about it. Maybe if Wendy had become a nubile brunette with the best cock-sucking lips I'd ever seen…I shake my head, "Dude, I don't think it was Wendy."
Kenny sighs, finishing off his beer and then throwing the can resolutely on the grass. I pity the fool that has to clean up the mess for this party.
"I had this talk with him a while back. Seems like he didn't listen. Wendy's going to crucify him if she finds out. Then again, she never does."
Never does. I mouth the words, pondering what Kenny's just told me, "So he does this often? Balls."
I'm thinking that if Stan really is harboring some secret hatred for me from four years back, it probably makes it worse that I discovered him giving it to some girl who certainly was not his girlfriend. But I don't even know for sure that he does hate me. I mean we didn't even have a conversation. He just walked away. I guess that doesn't bode well for a potential rekindling of our friendship though. I don't even know if I want to seek him out and have him as a friend again though. It just feels like something I should do. At some point. I'd planned on finding all my old friends after I found a job. I just found Kenny a little sooner. Seeking out Stan was totally next on the list. Which I may no longer be able to do now that I know Stan's dirty little secret. I turn my attention back to Kenny.
"Often enough," Kenny shrugs, "He's not the most faithful guy in South Park, if that's what you're asking. He's careful though; Wendy's been dating him for three years, and he never once got caught, even this time when he caught the Syph and I had to take him to the free clinic. He had to sneak Wendy her shots while she was sleeping so that she didn't know she was infected. That was one hell of a time."
"He gave Wendy syphilis?"
Kenny nods, more intent on finding another full beer can than telling me the story. I shake my head. So Stan Marsh was going around giving people venereal diseases. Somehow I can't quite imagine it.
Then I remember the image of him, cock in hand, behind the trailer. He hadn't even looked ashamed.
Kenny hands me another beer and I down it without a second thought.
The day after the party is the first in a long time that I don't go job hunting. My mom had finally been giving me some slack for flunking out, but this morning she's in a rage.
"Why aren't you leaving?" she snaps.
"I'm taking a break," I say through a mouthful of Cheerios, trying to ignore the way she's glaring at me.
"Why?" she demands. My mother's the type of person who thinks if you badger a person enough, they'll eventually cave. This morning I have different plans, so I put up with her questions while I finish my breakfast, deliberately not giving in.
"It's snowing outside, Ma," I offer, like it's ever not snowing in South Park, "I don't want to end up in an accident. Don't worry, I'll drive out to Denver tomorrow."
Mildly appeased, my mother says, "You could try looking in Boulder. its closer, and I bet there's some jobs there that you might be more suitable for."
I warn, "I'm not going today."
She brightens suddenly, "You could go submit your application for the community college."
"It's not due until April, Ma."
"Procrastinating never helped anyone, Kyle."
"I have plans, Ma."
"What kind of plans?" she asks suspiciously, "What's more important than finishing your degree and getting a job? You're being such a bad role model for you brother-"
"It's just for today, Ma."
"Don't get sassy with me, young man. I'm just looking out for your future."
"I know."
My mother huffs. There's no way to really win this argument. If I agree too much with her she'll say I'm patronizing her. If I don't answer, she'll say I'm ignoring her. If I disagree with her, we'll just end up arguing. It looks like we're going to already.
"I just don't understand where I went wrong, Kyle. Why did you have to get kicked out?"
I thought we were over this. I thought she was going to leave it be. The day I got back was pretty much guilt-fest of the year, so it's not like I didn't already know how she felt about my sudden expulsion.
"I'm so disappointed in you Bubbala," she tells me, eyes narrowed with grief.
That's it. Did I argue with her? No. Did I yell? No. All I wanted was one day to myself.
"You know what?" I mutter, thinking she knows the perfect way to hurt me, "So am I. Lay off."
"Kyle!" she screeches, furious that I'm walking away instead of bemoaning with her what a bad, stupid boy I am. For a moment I almost wish I had another mom, one who didn't care how much I fucked up.
No, that's not true.
You know, my mom is a bitch. She always has been. For some reason people seem to translate bitch as abusive. I don't know how many times people called child protective services on behalf of Ike and I when I was younger. Each time we had to carefully explain that my mom loves us. She always has. She's one of the most supportive parents around. I guess it's the same as what Kenny was telling me. Just because his family is poor, just because my dad's a pushover and my mom's a raging bitch, and just because Cartman's mom is a whore too, doesn't mean that our parents don't love us. I love my mom, and I know she just wants the best for me.
But right now I really just can't deal.
You might ask why I decided to risk the wrath of my mother.
I guess I've decided that looking for Stan sooner rather than later would be the wisest decision, given the events of last night.
I have two scenarios in my head. In scenario one, Stan's going to welcome me back like the prodigal friend and we're going to be insta-friends again. In scenario two, Stan's going to tell me to fuck myself.
I hate when I watch movies or shows involving fags, and the second one breaks up with the other, they sob like the world's going to end. Fuck that. If a guy's girlfriend dumps him, sure, he's going to cry alone in the privacy of his room. If he even liked the broad, that is. But in the presence of friends, he's going to drink hearty and possibly try to get laid. That's how I've modeled myself. Stan says fuck you (not that I'm saying I'm gay for him, because that would be wrong), I go find tequila shots. I realize I just made myself sound totally into my male best friend, but comparing a friendship to a relationship was about the closest I could get to how Stan and I used to be.
Which says a lot about how Stan and I used to be.
Both my scenarios also hinge on the fact that Stan reacts in a cookie-cutter like way. He either missed me or he didn't. The problem is, real people aren't like characters in movies. We drift apart and away, even from our best friends. Stan might not have even cared that we stopped talking. I've been thinking he hates me because I sort of hate myself for losing my best friend. He doesn't have to automatically feel the same way. In fact, it would be almost cliché to think he does.
I don't want him to think I'm trying to get him to be my best friend again, either. I just…I guess the truth is that especially now that I've been back in South Park for a while, I've missed having the familiarity of Stan. Having no friends sucks balls, and it's easier to find your old friends than look for new ones.
And if your old friends tell you to fuck off, like I said before; I know a great bar with cheap tequila.
I'm thinking all this while I stand on the terrace outside Stan's apartment building. Kenny told me how to find it the previous night. I make my way inside and onto an elevator. Stan lives on the seventh floor. I find the apartment and, taking a deep breath, jab my finger into the buzzer.
Nothing happens. I hear the sound of the ringer on the other side of the door, but no footsteps to accommodate me. Maybe he's not in.
I have to ring the buzzer at least eight times before I decide to give up. Just as I turn to leave, something sounding like a stampede rushes the door. Startled, I step back. The door creaks open.
A pretty girl emerges from behind the door. Her low cut shirt is backwards and inside out, her cheeks and lips are red, her hair tousled, and her skirt is riding up so high that I can pretty much see her lacy thong.
"Hello?" she says sweetly, not bothering to cover herself. I squint, thinking that Wendy has definitely matured and trying to find that empowered little girl I used to know. Even though I still sense a ball-breaker hiding behind those innocent eyes, I also sense that she's become a little more like the stupid spoiled whore she wanted to be when she was a little girl. But that might just be because right now she definitely has sex-hair.
Bet her parents are real proud.
I clear my throat, "Is Stan here?"
Her eyes widen, clear and blue, "Ohmigod, Kyle?"
Put off by the squeal, I sort of stammer a positive reply before she flings her arms around me.
"It's been so long," she says in a rush, "I can't believe you're here. Stan told me all about that little falling out you had, and ohmigod I bet you want to talk to Stan. Sorry."
She hollers Stan's name through the apartment, but doesn't release her hold on me. Wendy Testaburger certainly learned how to talk. She's still chattering my ear off with all the 'how are you's and how you been's' that most old acquaintances use while she leads me to a black sofa. It's near the sliding glass door that marks the balcony of the apartment. Stan's been doing well for himself, I see. I glance around, ashamed of my own status as a failure. Wendy's excited chatter hasn't really died down yet, but she falls completely quiet when Stan walks in.
He's half naked. Again.
Bare-chested and sweaty, Stan staggers into the living room like he owns the place, which I suppose he does.
He sees me. He's quiet.
"What are you doing here?" he asks after a moment.
"Kyle came to see you!" Wendy exclaims dumbly, and I start to wonder if moving from South Park had stolen a few IQ points away. Normally you'd think it would be the opposite.
I nod, just because it seems to be the appropriate thing to do. Wendy seems to experience a flash of brilliance and realize that this is kind of a personal moment and says, "You know what? I think I'll make some tea. Stan, why don't you sit next to Kyle so you two can…talk."
The dark haired boy does so, obediently. I don't think anyone other than me wonders if he shouldn't put a shirt on.
"Hi," I begin.
He grunts, "Hi."
"Erm- sorry for interrupting you…" I say, glancing furtively at Wendy, who's humming and putting a tea kettle on the stove, "Last night and today."
Stan shrugs, "It happens."
"I guess," I reply, thinking that it hadn't ever really happened to me before.
"So why are you here?" he asks, "Just to apologize?"
"I…I haven't seen you in a while."
"Well," Stan purses his lips, "That happens too."
"I should have called you," I hurry on, "You know, from school."
He's still watching me, saying nothing. I wonder if he's mad. I wonder if he cares at all.
"I...you were my friend, dude. I acted like a douchebag. So I guess I wanted to apologize for that too."
Stan stares at me, his eyes cold and unblinking. Quietly, so that Wendy can't hear, he says, "You want to know how I felt as the months dragged on, waiting and waiting for you to call? You want to know how I felt when you never did? You want to know how I felt when a year passed, then two, then three, and then four without ever hearing your voice?"
I gulp. I nod. It's all I can do. The fear that he didn't care about our forced distance has vanished. There's a sadness I don't recognize in his eyes, a sadness that I think I put there.
"It made me want to die."
If he expects me to come up with a quick reply, he's left sorely wanting. I can't even make my lips mumble a sound in response to that. Never in my life have I imagined Stan saying 'I want to die', yet here he tells me that my arrogance caused him that kind of pain? I feel like he's taken a knife and twisted it in my gut, but the pain is almost pleasant because I feel like I deserve it.
His eyes brighten as though he doesn't even notice that he's sucked all my breath away, "But its okay. We were both stubborn fucks."
He actually has the nerve to laugh.
Now I'm really confused.
A/N: Just for the record, I hate the word 'fag', but I think it's like a staple of South Park, so I've used it in abundance. Sorry.
Second note, I know the whole Kyle/orStan leaves comes back=drama thing has been done to death. The whole absence thing isn't going to be a huge factor in this, and hopefully I'll manage to spin everything just a bit differently than other fics do. We'll see. Just wanted to let you know that I didn't think I was being terribly original from the get-go like some kind of asshole.
On third note, I'm really leaning towards slashing Kyle with everyone. Joking. Kind of. Not really. If I were to do so, I feel like the story would be good but people would whine. I just have to consider whether or not I care. Don't get me wrong, this story will be Stan x Kyle in the end. But there will definitely be drama in between. The thing is, if I have all the drama I want, I feel like people would say 'it's too much'. Or it's unrealistic…hmmm. Well, whatever I do, you'll have to read on to find out and review to give me feedback!