You Can Never Go Back

Chapter 16: And What Good Is Feelin' If My Hands Aren't Touchin' You?

By: Jondy Macmillan

A/N: It is I of the super quick updating skills! Don't get used to it… The original chapter title for this was better, but it was sadly written down in my lost word document along with the chapter titles up until nineteen. However this one isn't bad (Eep, I think!), so it's forgiven. Mostly. :hides resentment of external hard drive breaking. And jayjabee, I really tried, but Kenny did not want to be excessively in this chapter- but he'll definitely be in the next few. Cross my heart! Thank you for all your reviews, and PLEASE review more! You guys are my crack. No, seriously. In a good way.

Cigarettes. What is there to say about cigarettes? They're nasty. They give you lung cancer. They make your teeth yellow and your fingertips smell like ash, and few people find the taste of them appealing when you kiss.

They also calm me the fuck down. Since I broke my promise already to Stan, and he knows it, I figure that I'm completely allowed to continue on with this bad habit. In moderation, of course. However, I feel that finding out I'm secretly into gay sex means I'm entitled to giving into a vice.

"Okay, dude, after you inhale, you have to exhale unless you want to suffocate," Kenny observes with mild panic, watching me suck down a drag without letting up. He's worried. He can tell something's up, but I haven't told him about my date with Red yet. I just turned up at his apartment and convinced him to take a walk under the stars with me. His blond hair looks like a halo around his head, like star-shine at night and sunlight in the day. Sometimes I think Kenny really is an angel, albeit a perverted, homosexual one. He's the first person I thought of visiting, and I wonder what that means. Am I in love with Kenny? Do I want to fuck him? Am I just attracted to him?

I decide all it means is that I consider him a friend and he's the only person I know for sure is up to wandering South Park at one in the morning. Stan was my first choice, but I figured he'd be sleeping. Plus I'm a little wary of what telling Stan about my revelation will mean. I don't want him to misconstrue it. I still have like three weeks till our deal is up, and I don't want him to get his hopes up until I'm absolutely positive about things.

How embarrassing. I guaranteed Stan that my feelings wouldn't change, and within a week I decide that I'm hot for the male form. This has got to be the ultimate let down. I thought I knew myself better. Then again, no one had ever introduced the idea of me being gay before, so I'd never really considered it an option.

Actually, I've had nearly two and a half months to stew over it since Cartman kissed me in the library, so I guess I shouldn't be talking about how 'sudden' it is.

I finally blow at all the smoke I've been holding in, and I can see Kenny's relieved smile. He must have thought I was planning on asphyxiating myself.

Somehow, this whole thing is fucked up, but it doesn't feel like the end of the world.

I guess it doesn't change anything, actually. I still like girls. I don't have to date dudes. I just…want to. I want to try it out. Hunh. Weird, voicing it, even though it wasn't out loud.

In fact, it doesn't even mean anything for my agreement with Stan. I haven't suddenly decided I love him. It's the same as it is with Kenny. I know I'm attracted to him, but I don't know if that means I need to pin him down and ravish him or if it even means anything at all.

That's got to be my next step then; figuring out how I feel about Kenny, about Stan, and about Cartman. Dude, I'm pretty sure I know how I feel about the fatass. I just have to talk to him. I'm not looking forward to it.

I take a deep breath and say, "Kenny, I dig guys."

I'll give him credit. All he does is suck in a surprised breath and reply, "Welcome to the team."

"I like girls too," I warn.

Kenny frowns, "I don't trust bisexuals."

"Why not?"

"They're just greedy."

"Says the boy who will have sex with a woman as long as he can close his eyes and pretend she's a man."

"Someone has to take care of my everlasting libido."

"Gross, dude."

He smiles at me. I like this. I like that his footsteps are in step with mine, and that even though I just made this huge confession to him, he's just accepting it. There's no pressure. He already offered himself up, and he's not going to push it.

It would be so easy to experiment with him. But he's my friend, not a lab rat. And there's something else, something more. Kenny likes me, but…I remember when I first met up with him again, and I saw that look in his eye. That 'let-me-out-of-here-NOW' look that I recognized from myself, right before I graduated high school. Kenny hates being in South Park. Even with his job and his apartment, he hates it. I think he might even hate himself a little bit. He said Stan had sort of left off talking to him, that they'd drifted apart. And I know Cartman is busy a lot with his dispatch job. I'd heard from Craig that he and Kenny hung out sometimes, but other than that, I wonder…does Kenny have any other friends? I'm worried that if I try something with him, he'll take it out of context. Even if he acknowledges it as a one off, I think maybe a wham-bam-thank-you-sir kind of thing would screw him up if it was with me. I don't want to ruin Kenny. He doesn't deserve to be fucked with. He deserves love, and I know he's starved for it.

Okay. So no screwing Kenny's brains out. That's a shame. I recall our make out session on the kitchen table, and something stirs down under just from the memory.

He smiles at me, his breath coming out foggy as cigarette smoke, even though he hasn't taken a puff. This town is too damned cold for its own good.

One of these days, I'll sit down and have a real talk with Kenny. Not tonight, though. Tonight I just want to walk with him, our steps echoing in perfect harmony. I'm going to hold onto this peace for as long as I can.

I'm on my lunch break. I find Cartman sitting behind a wooden desk, a headset attached to his ear, a plateful of doughnuts on his lap. It took me three days, but I've finally gathered up the courage to talk to him.

"Want to get lunch?" I ask.

He gives me this devil-may-care grin, and I shiver inwardly. If this goes wrong, there's every possibility that I'll be an ingredient in the next batch of chili he makes.

I pray to Moses it won't go wrong.

We head over to the bistro I had originally planned to take Red's. It's right across the street from Craig's bar. Craig's actually the one who recommended it. He said the food there was absolutely fucking amazing, and if there's any way to soften a blow to Cartman's ego, it's with yummy food.

What? Hey, we don't call him fatass for nothing.

After we're seated at the heated patio of the restaurant, I decide to tackle my dilemma head on. I scoot my metal chair closer to Cartman with an ear shattering screeching noise. He stares at me like I'm stupid, obviously wondering why I feel the need to invade his personal bubble.

And then I kiss him, chastely.

When I pull back, he's staring at me in wide eyed astonishment. Meanwhile, me? I felt nothing. Somehow, I don't think that's going to make this go any easier.

"What the hell was that, Jew?"

I frown.

"I know your intelligence is below average, but I figured even you would know what a kiss is. Oh wait, your mom is a whore. Isn't kissing against the rules?"

"That's for prostitutes," he snaps, "And leave my mom out of this. Did you invite me out to lunch just so you could molest me?"

I just scowl at him, letting a busboy come and fill our water glasses. As soon as the poor little man evacuates the scene, I calmly take a sip of my water. Cartman's dark eyes are on me the entire time.

Suddenly his face lights up, "Oh, I get it! Why Kahl, you've come round to my charm."

Aw. Awwwwww. Why me? Groaning, I attempt to think of a way to go about this.

"Um, not exactly."

"Then what? You either like me, or-" horror crosses Cartman's face and he yelps, "Did you infect me with something? Is this revenge for that time I gave you AIDS? I swear to god, Kahl, if you transmitted something through your cooties-"

"Shut up, lardbutt," I retort, trying not to let my temper get the better of me. I'm used to Cartman overreacting. Still, we are in a really nice restaurant, and people are starting to stare.

"I will shut up when you tell me where the antidote is!" Cartman screams.

"Dude, calm down. There is no antidote."

"You gave me something incurable? That's low, even for you," he glares at me.

I sigh, "Cartman, I didn't infect you with anything."

I watch him perk up, "You didn't?"

"No. Dude, I'm not YOU," I point out, "I wouldn't stoop that low."

He relaxes slightly, his shoulders slumping against the back of the chair, "That's right."

"Cartman, do you like me?"

"I told you I did, didn't I?" he asks in a rather annoyed voice. Yet for all the thinking I've done, I still haven't been able to pinpoint what kind of scheme Cartman has going, but there's still something behind his eyes. I don't believe him.

"No you don't."

"I do," he protests, "Kahl, I want to make sweet, sweet love to your anus."

Great. Now people are really staring. He's still in uniform too, so I can't even hit him without getting the cops called on me.

I sigh, frustrated, "No, you don't."

He gives me a measured look.

"I like you."

"No you don't," my voice is coming out in that irritated growl I get when I know I'm right and the other person's wrong. My mom calls it my 'tone', as in 'I don't like that tone, mister'. With Cartman, I don't care.

I can tell he's analyzing me now. He's got that calculating expression, like he's weighing the odds of letting me in on whatever scam he's running.

Finally he breathes, "No, I don't."

I was right! Ha! There! I knew I was right! Wait. I was right?

"So you don't like me?" I frown. I should be happier about this.

"I like you," he objects, "I just don't necessarily like you that way."

That way? What are we, five?

Shaking my head, I mutter, "Then why all the pretense?"

He shrugs and says like it's the most obvious thing in the world, "Because there's no one else even remotely up to my standards in this town."

"What are you standards?" I practically groan. This should be good.

"Well," he straightens in his seat, and I can tell nobody's ever asked him something like this before. He clears his throat, thinking hard, "Well…no hippies, obviously."

Of course.

"And?" I prompt.

"They have to live close by. I'm not travelling to see some ho. That's so gay."

I don't comment on the irony of that statement.

"And?"

"They have to like me," he says with an almost childlike innocence, like the idea of someone liking him is entirely foreign to him. It is Cartman, so it very well might be, for a number of reasons.

"Okay, I'd expect that much."

"Oh! And they have to be gay."

"Okay. What else?"

Cartman makes a face like he's swallowed something awful, "There has to be more?"

I can't even hide my astonishment, "That's all? You chose me because I'm not a hippie, I'm nice to you, close by, and you thought I was gay?"

He nods.

God. Cartman is so stupid sometimes.

Well, all the time, really.

"That's all?" I echo.

"You make it sound easy, Jew. There are hardly any gay kids in our damned town. And don't give me that you-thought-I-was-gay crap. You are such a 'mo. I have gaydar, I can sense these things," he crosses his arms smartly.

"Kenny's gay," is the only response I can currently verbalize. I'm not going to say anything at all about his commentary on my sexuality. I only just am figuring that out myself; no need to give Cartman any ammo.

"What are you talking about? Kenneh's not gay."

"Yes he is."

"No he's not."

"Yes, he is," I insist.

"You're obviously on crack. Kenneh likes girls," he emphasizes the last few words just in case I don't get it.

"Fine. You're right. Kenny's bi."

That's true. Kind of. At a stretch.

Well, it's not like it's going to get back to Kenny anyway.

"What's bi?"

Moses. My archenemy is a fucking moron.

I explain. Cartman stares at me.

"So all these years," he finally says in this lost voice, "I could have been after Kenneh instead of a Jew?"

"Pretty much."

"Goddamnit."

He stays silent while the waiter arrives with trays stacked high with food. I watch curiously as he stuffs his face, not saying a single word. And then, suddenly…

"Oh God!" Cartman turns his hands up the sky, the most radiant smile I've ever seen on him lighting his face, "Thank you Jesus! I knew you wouldn't let me spend my life pining over a Jewrat."

"Hey!" I object, but apparently not loud enough to hear over his praising Jesus.

"Hallelujah, lord!" Cartman cries again, attracting attention, "I knew it! I just knew it!"

Oh my sweet Moses. This is mortifying. Now everyone is definitely staring.

"I'll get right back on my plan to exterminate the filthy Jews, Jesus. I promise!" Cartman yells to the sky. Our waiter is coming towards us with an angry look on his face, and I'm positive he's going to give us some lecture about anti-Semitism before he kicks us out.

"Cartman! Hey, fucktard! Shut the hell up!" I yelp.

"Quiet, kike, I'm having a conversation with God," he replies tranquilly.

I'm going to kill him one of these days. I really am.

At least that's one crisis averted.

The waiter realizes Cartman's in a cop uniform and decides not to kick us out after all. Once the check is paid (Cartman saddled me with it, obviously), he rushes off muttering something about calling 'Kenneh'.

I take a huge breath, relieved. I got rid of one of my problems! Hell yeah! I have to restrain myself from pumping my fist in the air. I knew Cartman didn't like me romantically.

Wait a second.

Did I just send him after Kenny?

Fuck. I dig in my pocket for my cell. I better warn him.

A few days pass.

There's a blizzard warning in effect, but it needn't be. If I wanted to know what the weather was like, I'd just look outside at the combination of snow and rain that's piling up like gray sludge on my doorstep. Yeah, this is a blizzard all right. By the time midnight hits, all this mush is going to turn to even more perpetual ice, and then powdery snow will fall on top of it, masking the fact that the only way to safely get around is going to be on a pair of cross country skis.

Ike's sleeping over at his friend Fillmore's. My mom and dad's at a PTA meeting at Ike's high school, and I'm worried she's not going to make it back before the worst of it hits. When a knock sounds off on the door, I rush to it, unexplainably fearing the worst.

I open the door and find myself more shocked that I would have been if there'd been a sad-faced cop telling me there'd been an accident.

The slush is still coming down, cold and wet like an ICEE. Bits of frost cling to his hair, his eyelashes, and his lips. But he's there. Standing in front of me, looking as good as any male model.

"Stan."

A/N: So lately I've been browsing the site and all the newest updates are Stan/Kenny. I'm not a fan. And it's not like Creek or Bunny where I just honestly don't like Tweak or Butters much. It's just that I don't really see them making a good couple. I don't know. I think they're too similar. Mostly because I can only write Stan or Kenny two ways. Way one: Stan is a sexy jock. Kenny is a sex god. Way two: Stan is emo and vulnerable. Kenny is still sexy, but rather vulnerable for some reason or another. Even if you mix and match 'em, it just doesn't seem exciting to me. Maybe I'm just a diehard style or kxk shipper. Eh. Ooh, and I'll say this again. Please review!