You Can Never Go Back

Chapter Five: There's Always Something Storming Through These Evergreens

By: Jondy Macmillan

A/N: AWwwwww. I got so many good reviews. Thanks, you guys! So sweet. I know everyone wants to get to the style, or really any pairing. I do too. I also know people want to know what Stan's deal is. I do too. No, kidding. Don't worry, we're getting there. This chapter is short, but I really wanted to post something. I just finished the last day of term, and have three days of relaxing until finals start up. This chapter is kicking that off.

Color me confused.

After two weeks of complete and utter radio silence, Stan Marsh has finally called. I was practically jumping for joy. He wanted to hang out! We could go to a movie, or a bar, or just out for pizza. I didn't fucking care as long as he wanted to spend time with me!

Except Stan didn't want to do any of those things. He wanted to do something that by far, I found disturbing.

"Remind me again why I'm doing this?" I ask Kenny, who is standing, shivering next to me. God, if he's cold now, I wonder how he's going to feel once he's naked.

"You know Stan. He's always been concerned with doing good, making people proud of him. Like that time in Mountain Scouts," Kenny replies, teeth chattering. Even though his words come out in a terrible stutter, he has a wicked smile on his face. It scares me, just a little.

"I wasn't in Scouts," I glare at Kenny. He's always known that was a sore spot with me. Mountain Scouts was like the coolest place to be in fourth grade. I told my mom I wanted to be one too, and the answer I pretty much got is 'But bubhie, Jew Scouts is like Mountain Scouts. For Jewish little boys.' Well duh. Argument over. My mom had a way of ruining my life when I was a kid.

The wind whistles through the trees, chilling me through to the bone. I'm dressed to the tee in my warmest winter coat, hat, gloves, ski pants, and favorite pair of snow-stomping boots, but I still feel the breeze knife through my chest. Kenny wraps his arms around himself. I feel kind of bad for him. I guess. He came straight from the mechanic's shop in his oil stained coveralls, with only a feather down parka to keep him warm.

A woman with a pretty smile gets up on stage, swaying her hips. She's obviously fit, even through her padded winter wear, and I know every guy in the crowd is staring enviously at her boyfriend, who gives her a little kiss and wave from the side of the stage.

"Alright, people! Time to get ready. Now that you're all in formation, it's time to strip down! Don't chicken out, guys! Remember, this is for charity!"

"Stan and his mother fucking charity," I hiss through my teeth, my fingers fumbling through my mittens to find the zipper of my jacket. I'm reluctant to remove the thing, and it shows.

"Scared, Jew?" Cartman asks from my side. Stan roped us all into this.

"Yeah," I snort, "Scared you're going to eye rape me while I'm undressing."

Cartman makes a face, "As if."

His coat and ski pants are already off, and I really don't want to see what's beneath the jeans and shirt he wore under them. It's quite possibly the coldest winter that's ever hit South Park, but here we are, stripping down to fight the good fight. All proceeds for this event are supposedly being donated to some charity for kids with cerebral palsy. Yet that still doesn't seem a reason for me to be standing at the edge of Stark's Pond, removing my clothes.

A polar bear dive. Seriously. People in Colorado are freaks. Find me one other state in the Union where people think it might be fun to swim around in freezing cold water.

Cartman suddenly pipes up next to me, "We could make this really exciting."

He's standing barefoot on the frosted over grass, but seems unaffected by it. If I had all that blubber, I would be too. It's the first and only time I wish I was as fat as Cartman.

"I think this is exciting enough," I turn back to Kenny, who's rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet in only his simple orange swim trunks.

"What's the deal?" Kenny asks. He's too stupid to know better. Cartman has that malicious smile that means he's thinking something evil.

"How about we make this a real polar bear dive?"

"Hunh?" I ask, wondering what could make this realer. Does he want us to go fucking dive off a glacier? I'm sure I could find one nearby. It's certainly cold enough for one to be forming.

"When the ho on stage says jump, let's take off our trunks too."

"Oh Cartman," I make a face, "That is SO gay."

Kenny yelps, "Hey!"

Cartman retorts, "Aye, Jew! I am fucking gay."

I snort. Like I could forget something that funny.

It takes a minute of coaxing from Kenny to convince me that this is a good idea. I might, I might as well go all in right? Cartman makes a remark about my delicate sensibilities. Yeah, because I'm pure as driven snow. That actually used to be a theory of my friends up until high school; they thought I was a fucking prude because I have a strict mom and actually enjoy school. I guess they forgot the Catholic School Girl theory. The more introverted a person is, the wilder they get when they can. I am probably the poster child for that, evidenced by my four and a half long years at college. Stan's across the pond, closer to the stage. His blue eyes meet mine for a moment, and then dart away. Wendy's not there, I notice. I definitely would have seen her nubile little body prancing around in a bikini. Not that there aren't plenty of other scantily clad girls around.

I barely hear the babe on stage scream 'jump'. All I feel are my trunks being pulled down around my ankles by Kenny, and then suddenly a hand on my back. Next thing I know I'm floundering beneath the water, the coldness stealing my breath away. I hadn't even gotten a chance to take one back on surface. I'm fighting for air, for warmth, swimming towards the surface of the lake and thanking God that mom had made sure I had perfected swimming lessons.

Kenny's cracking up when I finally burst out of the water, hacking up a lung.

"Fuck, dude! I could have fucking died!"

A few high school girls overhear me, give me dirty looks, and swim out of my range.

I'm pretty sure my lips are blue at this point. We're technically supposed to get out of the water minutes after the dive. Sure enough, people around me are evacuating post haste. Kenny, Cartman, and I are still floating there, freezing our balls off like idiots.

"Calm down, Kyle," Kenny grunts, still half-laughing, "You made it out just fine."

"It's the principle of the matter," I cross my arms, sinking quickly back into the depths of the Pond. It's hard to tread water and appear furious at the same time.

I hear something like a beluga whale wading through the pond, turning to see Cartman splashing away. When, panting and gasping from cold, he makes it the surface of the lake; I notice he's still wearing his trunks. Irately I ask Kenny if he still has his. He does a little turn in the water so that I can see a flash of orange on his butt.

"You dickholes," I seethe.

Kenny just casts me a grin and stutters something about getting out as soon as fucking possible. I'm pissed at him, but I have to agree. Charity isn't worth hypothermia. Sorry kids.

As we crawl out of the Pond, I hear a few startled gasps at my attire, or lack thereof. I'm sure there are a few kids around, and I'm extremely apologetic that they have to see me in my nuddy-pants. I don't even like seeing myself stark ass naked. I'm skinny as hell, pale, and have freckles in weird places. It's not the most attractive combination.

Suddenly, catastrophe hits.

"I can't fucking find my clothes," I tell Kenny, still partially in the water. I decided that was the best way to hide Kyle Junior until I found my pants. A few people are getting a delicious view of the curve of my hipbones, but it's better than when I was fully commando only seconds ago.

Kenny affirms what I feared almost seconds later. My clothes are gone. Even my trunk has magically disappeared. I think it's pretty obvious who took them.

My life is shit.

I lose my best friend.

I get kicked out of school.

I have no sex life to speak of.

And now Cartman's run off with my underwear. If the sick freak wasn't so fat, I would bet money that he's hiding in the bushes trying to get his jollies off seeing how much the icy water shrunk my balls. Well he can kiss my ass. I exasperatedly climb out of the water and glance down at my balls to double check that they're just as attractive as ever. If balls can be attractive. They're all dripping wet and pruny right now, but still full-ish. Hmm…maybe attractive wasn't the best word to use.

"What the hell are you doing, Kyle?" I hear Stan's mortified voice behind me. He's all dripping wet and godly-like, and mostly clothed, so I don't think much of his anger.

"Cartman stole my clothes," I explain. Wordlessly, he hands me his towel, which is big, fluffy, and a lovely shade of cerulean. Kenny's eyes are dancing with amusement at my knight in shining armor, and I'm decently sure that I'm going to give him a fist to the gut when I'm wearing boxers once more.

"I can't believe that shithead," Stan suddenly erupts, and then lets loose a string of curses that scares away anyone who was still around to watch the show. Most people have already fled to the nearest hunting lodge, where the hosting charity is offering free cocoa.

I can't really feel my feet, and I absently wonder if that's a bad thing.

"Cartman is such a prick," Stan seethes, and I'm surprised he expected more of our friend.

"Cartman's always been a prick, dude. You don't have to be such a pussy about it," the second the words leave my mouth I realize I should have been a tad more sensitive. After all, this is Stan, who has pretty much been the same since birth; tough as hell on the outside, but a gooey steaming ball of mush on the inside. He gets awful upset when someone questions his masculinity. Kenny is the smart one this time. He pushes me aside, offering me his coat. I take it, wrapping the towel around my waist and then wondering what I can do with shoes. The blond is rapidly trying to diffuse the situation that hasn't even arisen yet. I can see the raven haired boy isn't going for it.

Stan's eyes harden as Kenny earnestly speaks to him. I don't think the mechanic even notices, but it makes me think maybe Stan isn't quite so happy-go-lucky as he let on. I wonder if that means he isn't really okay with the return of the prodigal super best friend. I think about it. If Stan had dicked me over (which I guess he kind of did, but I'm big on forgiveness, so let's ignore the fact that he never called either) I think I would have been furious. I mean, okay, we both had that little communication problem, but I was the one who treated him like shit when he came to visit. In his situation, I would be seething. Maybe Stan is, and he's just a devious bastard. I wouldn't put it past him.

Okay, now I'm being paranoid and thinking about all that shit again. It's supposed to be over. Stan said he wasn't mad. So he isn't mad. Except about me calling him a pussy. I glance at his eyes again, and now he just seems exhausted.

"Kenny, I don't care. I can take an insult," his eyes flick towards me, "Especially when it's not a very good one."

I just grin dopily, hoping he'll realize I was just being a bastard like always. He grins back.

I breathe a sigh of relief. For a second there, I was scared. Not scared of being hit. Stan couldn't hit me. Even if he could, it wouldn't matter. Yup, I'm a scrappy fighter. No one fucks with me. Being the only Jew in some hick town was pretty much like having a giant red target painted on my back. Ma always said to use my words, but I found it was faster and easier to use my fists. It definitely got me close to being kicked off the basketball team about three different times.

Even Kenny, who is no pushover, knows not to fuck with me.

Stan never really learned. I think it has something to do with his stints on both the football and baseball teams. Those sports involve head dives way more than basketball; he's lost more than his fair share of brain cells over the years. So okay, he might have taken a swing at me, but it would take more than just one little insult of 'pussy'. Plus he would go down hard for even thinking of it.

Yeah, cause two boys, one half naked, wrestling in the snow…isn't homosexual at all.

I don't know what my sudden obsession with what is and isn't homo is all about. I never used to care that much, except in the way that all guys care. Like, ew, dude, don't act so faggy. Now I'm suddenly being careful to not do things that would brand me as a fudge packer. Maybe it's because Kenny and Cartman have turned out to be gay. That must be why I'm being so sensitive about it.

Stan's still grinning at me, and I feel my chest tighten. I take a step towards him and stumble.

Shit, the numbness is radiating up my legs. Time to go.

A/N: Reviews make the slashy goodness come faster.