Stan Marsh was a reasonably tall sixteen year old, just shy of 6'0" and very athletically built. Anything he chose to wear would cling tightly to his muscles in the most flattering way possible. He had medium tanned skin and a perfect face, framed with a deep black mess of hair and highlighted by full lips and the darkest of blue eyes. He was, in a word, gorgeous. He's been the subject of multiple girls' affections ever since middle school, and always seemed to have someone new pining over him. However, he never really paid much attention to any of it, except for maybe having a girlfriend here or there out of pure boredom.

The truth was, ever since the end of middle school girls just hadn't caught his attention like they used to. But strangely enough, around the same time he began noticing the qualities of other guys. At first, he thought it was just a new found jealously of his peers, but the feeling seemed much different than that of simple envy. Stan had at times even entertained the thought he was gay, but would never ponder over it that long. He just couldn't be gay. It was just a natural part life to be jealous of others boys, and with that he dismissed the subject. But ever now and again, on the most unexpected days, it would surface from the deepest depths of his mind and call for his attention.

That wasn't the only problem on his mind at the moment. A few months earlier, the old lady next door had been busted for prostitution and dealing drugs. Long story short, she wasn't residing their anymore, and the house had gone up for sale. The family that bought it had just moved in, and Stan wasn't exactly excited about having new neighbors. Apparently they had a kid his age, and everyone at school had heard about it and had began badgering Stan for information. As if he knew, or cared, anything about the new boy next door. He didn't even want to hear another thing about it.

Dinner with the family had started out innocently enough, his parents praising him about his recent academic accomplishments and his potential football scholarships. Maybe they wouldn't mention anything about the new neighbors and he could actually enjoy a nice dinner.

"Stanley, did you go over and meet the new neighbors yet?" his mom asked, twirling a generous bite of spaghetti around her fork. Of course just because he didn't want to hear about it she would bring it up. She was always pushing him to be more sociable outside his main group of friends, and maybe if most of the town weren't such dicks or assholes, he wouldn't mind associating with them from time to time.

"No, not yet," Stan answered, rolling his eyes. "I don't even want to, okay? They 're probably just as retarded as everyone else in this town."

His father paused and looked up from his dinner, narrowing his eyes at his raven haired son. "Stanley, don't talk to your mother that way. You don't even know what the neighbors are like, give them a chance!"

"I heard good things about their family," Sharon began. "The Broflovskis. The father's a prestigious lawyer from New Jersey and the family has a lot of money. I'm pretty sure they're Jewish too. I even met the mother today when they were moving furniture in, Shelia I think."

"Oh great, rich Jewish bastards are moving in next door. How exciting!"

His mother stared at him in utter disbelief. "Stanley! You should be excited, they-"

"Oh I'm bursting with joy. Can't you just tell how happy I am?" Stan managed to say this as sarcastically and stoically as someone could possibly manage.

Sharon swallowed. "As I was saying, you should be excited. They have a son your age."

"I know. Why the hell should I care? He'll probably be just as big as an asshole as Craig is." Craig Tucker was their neighbor from across the street; when he had moved in during Stan's youth, he had hoped to find a friend, but instead the boy had turned out to be one of the biggest dicks of South Park today. Sometimes they would still hang out if all other options failed, but his parents really didn't approve. Craig was a known smoker, drug dealer, and overall just bad news.

'But, he still has a nice ass,' Stan noted, the thought bringing a smile to his face. Such a nice ass.

"Oh, he's nothing like the Tucker boy!" Sharon took a last bite of her spaghetti and pushed her empty plate aside. "He's very intelligent and he already has scholarship offers. His mother was bragging about it earlier. She said he's a recognized genius by the scientific community."

Stan laughed. "Great, now I have someone to copy my Biology homework from!"

His father slammed his fists on the table. "This is not funny Stan!" Randy had lost his patience with his son's smart ass remarks. He stood up from the table and collected his plate and silverware. Stan could tell by his father's red tinted face and twisted expression that he'd gone too far.

"Randy..." Sharon tested.

"No, Sharon! It's time he learns respect. I'm going over there right now and inviting the Broflovskis over for dinner tomorrow and Stanley WILL be friends with their son!" With that, he stormed out of the dining room and then proceeded out of the door.

Sharon turned to her son, fuming. "Now see what you did?"

Stan stood up from the table and followed his father's path, without saying a word. This was bullshit.

"And where do you think you're going?" she demanded, crossing her arms in disapproval.

"Out. I'll be home later." Stan answered, not looking back.

Before she could even voice a protest, he was gone.

...

"And so now, they're coming over for dinner tomorrow and my dad says I have to try to be friends with them. Can you believe that!" Stan finished. "This is so stupid. I hate my parents!"

"Dude, that's fucking gay. I feel bad for you, dude." His friend Kenny sympathized, whose blonde hair and striking blue eyes were enough to get any girl's heart racing. When they had been younger, he would always hide his good looks inside of a bulky orange parka coat, but those days were long gone. Although he had been a twisted, sex addicted pervert for years, he was the most understanding of any of Stan's friends and would always help him with his problems. That's why Kenny McCormick had grown to become one of his best friends.

However, his other best friend was a slightly different story.

"Ahahaha! That's just so priceless!" Eric Cartman snickered, bringing a hand up to muffle his laughing. "Your neighbor's a filthy Jew!"

Cartman had always been a narcissistic, intolerant asshole, even when they were young. His stance on Jews was the worst of his overbearing racism, and Stan knew that all too well.

"So what if he's a Jew?" Stan muttered, scratching the back of his head. "I don't care. I just don't want to have to be friends with him, he sounds like a loser."

Cartman smirked suggestively. "Awwww, why's that? I thought you'd be super excited about it!"

"And why would I be excited about it, Cartman?" Stan slouched in his seat, avoiding eye contact with the brown-haired boy. He pissed him, and Kenny, off to no extent with his comments and stupid shenanigans. Sometimes Stan wondered why exactly they kept him around at all when all he was good for was cleaning out the entire stock of Cheesy Poofs at the local mini mart.

"Oh, you know," Cartman began, trying his best to sound as innocent as he could. "Now you have a fuckbuddy, conveniently located next door!"

Stan turned his head towards him. "What the hell are you talking about, Cartman?" he cried.

"Oh, everybody knows Stan." Cartman insisted, leaning over into the raven haired boy's face. "Don't even try to hide it."

"Hide what, asshole?"

"That you're a big cock-loving faggot!" Cartman screamed, pointing a finger at Stan. "Everyone talks about it. Half the girls at school would gladly give themselves to you and you just turn your head and pretend they don't exist!"

"Just because I don't like most of the girls at school doesn't mean that I'm gay!" Stan protested.

"I'm onto you, Marsh." Cartman assured him, backing away slowly and averting his eyes to the TV. "You can't hide it forever, and I will get it out of you."

"Shut up you fucking fatass!" Stan growled, his hands curling into fists. Cartman wasn't exactly that fat anymore, compared to their elementary days where he'd been at least twice as big as Stan. Most of that weight had seemed to naturally disappear during their days in middle school, but because Cartman was still noticeably bigger than all of the other boys in South Park calling him fat had continued to be routine.

Cartman rose from the couch and turned towards Stan, hatred burning in his eyes. "Ay! Call me fat one more time and I'll kick you out of my house!"

Stan almost found himself laughing. "Oh will you? I'd like to see you try."

"Fuck you, Stan!"

"Calm down you two!" Kenny demanded, crossing his arms. He'd been sitting quietly and contently on the floor, but now he was up and ready to intervene in the argument. "You two act like we're still children, grow up!"

Stan tensed up, ready to strike out at Cartman and teach the fat boy a lesson, but relaxed as he considered his friend's words. "Kenny's right, Cartman. This isn't even worth fighting over because it's not true."

'At least, I really hope it isn't...'

Cartman seemed surprised, and for a moment slightly disappointed that conflict had been avoided, but quickly regained a nasty expression. "Yeah? Well, I would've fucked you up anyways, so whatever." With that, he turned away and began flipping through the TV channels. After losing an argument, the boy would ignore everyone and everything until his frustration subsided, and it seemed this situation would be no different.

Kenny turned to Stan, a wicked smile playing on his face. "Let's ditch fatass. I have an idea."

Stan flashed a cunning smile in return. "I like the sound of that." He looked back at Cartman, who was now completely absorbed in an older rerun of Terrance and Phillip. "See you later, dick face."

"Yeah yeah whatever, shut up, okay? It's just getting good now!"

...

"So what amazing idea does Kenny McCormick have for today?" Stan questioned, walking alongside his friend. Usually, Kenny's endeavors were quite explicit and sexual, but for some odd reason he felt like today the blonde's intentions were different.

Kenny's sly smirk hadn't left his face, not even for a second. "It's arguably my best idea yet," he gloated. "I'm officially a genius."

"That doesn't exactly answer my question..."

"Oh, yeah." Kenny realized, considering the question further. "Well, you know how you said you didn't like your neighbors, right?"

Stan nodded briskly. "Yeah, what about it?"

His blonde friend laughed, almost a little too darkly. "What if I conveniently got them to move out for you?"

That was all the black haired boy wanted. "That would be pretty awesome, not going to lie. What did you have in mind?" Knowing how cunning and conniving Kenny could be if the time required it, Stan was interested in hearing out his so-called 'genius' plan of action.

"All in good time," Kenny promised. "I just need some good dirt on them, that's it."

"So wait, you're going to find out something about them and tell everyone?" Stan asked, suddenly uncertain. "That isn't very original."

"That's not the plan." Kenny answered, sounding insulted that his intelligence had been taken in such a low esteem.

"Blackmail?" Stan continued.

"No! Just trust me. I'll have them out by next week."

"Alright," It bothered Stan that Kenny wouldn't disclose anything more, but he must have had some awesome kind of idea in mind to keep in a secret. "So how do you propose we find something bad about them?"

"Simple." Kenny smiled, as if it were such an obvious solution. "We break in."

...

When Kenny had first proposed that they break into the Broflovski's, Stan had embraced the idea. He hadn't broken into someone's house since maybe the end of elementary school, and the thought of reliving the thrill pumped adrenaline through his veins. But now that they were here, on the back porch of their house, he was suddenly uneasy. He'd done things like this before, so what could possibly be the problem? "I don't think this is a good idea, Kenny. Are you sure we won't get caught?"

Kenny was kneeling on the ground, picking the backdoor lock with something small and sharp he just 'oh so conveniently' had in his coat pocket. "Yes, I'm sure." Kenny said, sounding annoyed. "I'm not stupid, Stan. I do stuff like this all the time!"

"I don't even want to know, dude." Stan could only imagine the kind of shit Kenny was doing when he had the downtime.

Kenny grunted, continuing to twist the object around in the keyhole. "Alright, I think I almost got it...There! We're in." He stood up and turned on the knob, and the door creaked open.

Stan had to admit, Kenny had impressed him. Not like picking locks was that hard, but just the way he executed this entire operation and seemed to know what would best benefit their search efforts. They had stalked the house in the bushes, waiting for the family to leave and go God knows where before they tried to break in. Then, it was Kenny who suggested the rear door was their safest bet, in case someone would happen to walk bye, or even if the family would come back. That might be common sense, but it was still a great idea. Kenny was all about being stealthy and carrying out a clean crime. He left no tracks or evidence behind to discover.

As they entered the house, Stan recognized the familiar rooms, as he had visited his neighbor's house once or twice with his parents. But now they were empty and bare, mind the piles and piles of cardboard moving boxes that had yet to be unpacked. "They have a fucking shit ton of stuff! Where do we start?" he questioned, slightly overwhelmed by the amount of possible 'dirt'.

"Let's try to find that new boy's room." Kenny suggested. Stan had to admit, it was a pretty solid idea. "We should go upstairs and split up so we can find it faster."

The two ascended the stairs and went in separate directions, Kenny to the left and Stan to the right. The first door Stan tried was just a bathroom, and the second a closet. The last two on his side were just spare bedrooms, although one was full of cardboard boxes like he had seen in the other rooms downstairs. Maybe the boy had a brother or sister. Judging by the decently smaller bed Stan had seen in the corner of the room, he or she was probably a few years younger.

"Over here, Stan!" Kenny called out. Stan ran back up the hallway and towards the blonde's voice. Kenny was outside of a room, waiting for him.

"This HAS to be it. Let's start looking for something."

Stan stepped inside, and immediately had the feeling that Kenny was wrong. The room had no bed, and nothing to easily identify itself as that of a teenager's room. Just the familiar cardboard boxes he'd seen everywhere else in the house, and a bunch of books and papers scattered around the room. "I'm not sure, Kenny. I mean, this just looks like an office. It's probably his dad's study or something."

"No dude, I'm positive!" Kenny argued. "I checked all three rooms on this side. One's the master bedroom, and that has to be his parents. Plus it had a double bed in it, and lots of boxes. Then the other room was completely unpacked, with a desk and bookcases and everything, That's the office, I just know it."

"What makes you think this is his room?" Stan asked, still very skeptical.

Kenny shrugged. "Intuition. More so deduction. I bet his bed's still packed in one of these boxes."

Stan was still uneasy, but if Kenny was so sure, he would trust him. "Okay, dude. Let's start looking and hurry the hell up. I still don't feel so sure about this."

For about ten minutes, there was silence between them as they searched through the papers. Stan was becoming slightly frustrated with his lack of luck. Every paper he looked at was garbage or about law and too complicated and complex for him to comprehend fully. The rest were just insignificant. He wondered how Kenny was doing. He peaked a look at the blonde, and saw that he were fiercely reading over a paper, his face in a state of complete disbelief. Whatever he was reading was clearly horrifying. "Find anything?" Stan asked, sincerely hoping he had.

"No, not yet, but this kid must be like some sort of crime fanatic. He has all these law books, and a pile of newspapers about a rape that happened on the Jersey Shore last year. That's what this is about." Kenny's eyes never left the paper. Typical Kenny, engorged in his sexual ways.

"Well what do you expect?" Stan wasn't even remotely surprised. "His dad's a lawyer, I bet he's helping out on one of his cases or something." Whatever it was, it didn't mean anything. At least concerning what they were looking for.

Another few minutes went by, and Stan still hadn't found anything. He turned to Kenny, who was now looking out of the window with a puzzled expression. "Kenny? What the fuck! Keep looking for stuff."

"I counted two, but that's gotta be wrong..." Kenny muttered to himself before turning to his friend. "Stan, do the Brovfloskis have three cars?" Kenny asked, his voice suddenly very nervous.

"Why the hell would I know?" Stan demanded. "Dude, look. It's starting to get dark and my parents and going to fucking kill me if I'm not home soon. We need to hurry up or-"

"What the fuck are you two doing?"

Stan looked at Kenny, his heart racing, and it took him a moment to realize it was not the blonde who had spoken. He turned his head towards the door, and that's when he saw him.

He was a tall and skinny boy, maybe not quite Stan's height but almost a near rival. He was wearing a fitted white T-shirt adorned with some sort of sports logo and a tight pair of darker jeans. The boy lacked much defining muscle, but because he was very lean his clothes fit well against his body. His face was porcelain pale and slightly freckled, and although Stan could not tell his eye color from their distance apart, he could see the boy had large, full almond eyes. His slightly crooked nose and curly red hair were tell tale signs the boy was in fact of Jewish descent. He was gorgeous, Stan thought.

And he was also immensely pissed off.