A/N: Wow, it's been awhile since I've written literally anything. I actually had to make a new account to post this. Anyway, I'm testing out the waters here on FFN before possibly moving this work to AO3. I'm going to do my best to shoot for weekly updates, but I can't promise anything. Criticism and suggestions are welcome and appreciated, and any upvotes or positive feedback will be internalized and used for self-validation by me.

Warning: This work will eventually contain mentions and minor depictions of drug and alcohol abuse, anorexia, self-harm, and other unsavory and potentially triggering behaviors. I'll do my best to put warnings at the beginning of such chapters that do, but if that kind of thing puts you off, your best bet is to click off now.

Disclaimer: All characters and events in this fanfic - even those based on real people - are entirely fictional, and don't belong to the author. All characters' personas are interpreted by one fan of the show...poorly. The following story contains coarse language and due to its content it should not be read by anyone.

The sun was rising over the little town of South Park, nestled away in the mountains of Colorado. Stan Marsh, freshly fourteen, sat at the desk of his super best friend, Kyle Broflovski. It was a quiet Sunday morning in July, halfway through summer vacation. There was never much to do in South Park in the summer, so the two boys often ended up eating garbage and playing video games into the wee hours of the night.

Now, it was what Stan considered the wee hours of the morning - 6:30am - and he was sitting up at Kyle's desk, watching his friend sleep and holding an opened envelope in his hand. He was almost never awake before Kyle, usually preferring to sleep into the afternoon while Kyle got up and meandered about the house; however, this was special circumstance. He needed to talk to Kyle about this - he needed Kyle's opinion, or his blessing, or something - bags under his eyes be damned. Kyle's two cents mattered.

Stan's fingers played along the ripped and frayed edges of the paper as he watched Kyle sleep, trying to keep his brain from wandering any farther into the uncharted territory of his and Kyle's relationship. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't stop himself from wondering what would become of them should he really take this opportunity - or acknowledging that his unsavory feelings for Kyle were part of the reason he wanted to.

He was roused from his thoughts when he saw the redhead stir, watching him reach out to what was usually Stan's side of the bed and recoil when he found nothing. Kyle sat up slowly, rubbing the grain out of his eyes and looking around, eyebrows raising when he saw Stan fully conscious.

"Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?" Kyle remarked, though half of it had come out as a yawn. He finished sitting up and swung his legs around to sit on the edge of his bed, toes barely hitting the floor. When he received no response, he gave Stan the eye.

"What is that?" he asked, pointing to the opened envelope in Stan's hand. Stan sighed, gripping the object with unnecessary nervous force.

"It's...a letter," Stan replied, then winced at the deadpan look the other gave him.

"Yeah, no shit. What's it say?"

"It's...it's an invitation, to this study abroad trip. It's Wendy's, but she's able to invite someone else, and she wants me to go. My parents have already practically drained their savings for me, but..." He stopped and handed the envelope over to Kyle, who opened and scanned the contents.

"Dude, but nothing, this is awesome! A whole year in Europe? Do you know what I would give to be able to take this kind of trip?"

"Yeah, probably an arm and a leg." Stan grinned at the good reception before speaking again. "Do you really think I should go? I mean, with everything that's going on here..."

"Stan," Kyle said quietly, placing a hand on Stan's arm. "I'll be fine - so will Kenny, and so will your parents and your sister, even if it doesn't seem like it right now. I really think you should go. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and if you want my honest opinion, I think it would do you some good to get out of South Park. You've gotta spread your wings sometime."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Thanks, dude. I needed to hear some logic."

"No problem. Now, since you're awake, get your ass up and come help me make breakfast."

It was roughly six weeks later when Stan and Wendy boarded an international aircraft together at Denver Airport, tucking their carry-on bags into the overhead bin and buckling their seats for the ridiculously long flight into Spain. Wendy was giddy, holding onto Stan's arm and talking his ear off, but Stan was calm, looking out the plane window in the direction that South Park lied. He had a bad feeling building up in his gut, but he forced it down, reminding himself of Kyle's promise. Everything will be fine.

Wendy, sensing his anxiety, pulled him down so she could press a kiss to his cheek. He smiled and apologized for zoning out, then settled back into the chair of the airplane, falling asleep to the seat belt light's gentle ding, ding, ding...

...ding, ding, ding.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking - we are now preparing to land in beautiful Denver, Colorado. It's about 67 degrees Fahrenheit, and skies are partly cloudy with chances of..."

Stan tuned out the intercom as the turbulence of landing jostled him awake. He wanted to stretch his arms up but the little plane didn't have much room to do so, so instead he took the neck pillow out from behind him and cracked his neck. He yawned and looked beside him at Wendy, who was still out against her own doughnut-shaped pillow.

The landing was a little bumpy but not the worst that Stan had ever been through, and he sighed when they finally reached the ground. Wendy opened her eyes as the wheels of the plane hit the runway, sitting up in time to be pressed against her seat by the force of the slowing aircraft. Stan watched the airport fly by through the window until the plane slowly came to a stop at the gate.

"Do you think you're ready?" Wendy suddenly asked him, and Stan jumped when he heard her voice. She set a hand on his arm.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he replied, looking back out the window in the direction that South Park lied. As the stewardess came around to collect garbage and open overhead bins, Stan just stared out the window, preparing himself to return to the home that he'd up and left...

...fourteen years ago.