Oh my goodness! Hey, it's OuranBandit, and thank you so much for clicking my story! I shan't disappoint!

And yeah, I made the cover picture, I hope it doesn't look too wattpad-ish. I might take off the watermark, it's kinda cheesy.

So this, of course is a PewdiePie fanfic, not a one-shot (although I've been thinking about doing a PewdieCry one-shot…MUAHAHAHA). I thought since Pewds didn't meet Marzia in this story, he still lives in Gothenburg, Sweden, where he grew up. Anyway, I really hope you like the plot, I came up with it me-self, and if you have any questions, personal comments, anything at all, just DM and I'll respond at my earliest convenience. So, without further ado, let us begin!

…

It was a warm winter's day, here in California, at least. I was packed and ready for my exciting trip to Sweden, were I would be studying the cultural and linguistic differences with my new "exchange student" family. It was only for two years, but I would miss my mother dearly. After my two older sisters moved out and my dad left, we were on our own, just me and her. I would be twenty when I came back, so we would be missing two of my birthdays, two of her birthdays, and two festive holiday seasons that were always so cheerful. But I knew this decision would be good for me.

I zipped up my luxurious suitcase, bought at the ever-so prestigious Wal-Mart, and slumped down on my bed. My sweet little cat, a ginger tabby named Waffle Dots (Don't ask, I named him when I was twelve) jumped on my lap and kneaded my thigh.

"Don't worry, baby," I consoled my distressed feline. "It's only for a couple years." But I was still trying to tell myself that. What if nobody liked me? What if I didn't learn the language fast enough? I was 18, I had to graduate from high school to collage in Sweden. That's another thing that I'd rather celebrate at home. I tried to wipe away these negative thoughts…but I don't really think I would until I come back in two years. 20 years old.

I checked the time on my phone and realized it was time to leave. It was about 75 degrees outside, but my mom was still outside my door, with a bundle of warm outerwear, scarves, gloves, pretty much everything I didn't pack for the cold European country. I grabbed the collection of warm clothes out of my mom's hands, and spun on my heels, back into my room. After doing my best to cram the extra miscellanea into my suitcase, I quickly moved through my tiny, one story house to my mom's car. I slapped my luggage into the backseat, and then sat up front, earbuds in. Before hitting "Play" on my playlist, which consisted of Panic! at the Disco, Blink 182, Linkin Park, and maybe a little Coldplay, I look over to my mom, a smile on her face, but sadness in her eyes. I knew she would miss me as much as I would miss her. She looked over at me, chuckled in her cute, squeaky voice, and touched my arm affectionately. We pulled out of the driveway, and drove in silence for a while.

"I'm going to miss you, honey." She said when the airport was in sight. We had to drive out of our fairly large town, which took about 20 minutes, and an extra 10 to reach the airport.

"I'm gonna miss you, too." I half-smiled. We drove into a crowded parking lot, and silently prayed for no delays. It was an enormous building with an even bigger runway for the airplanes. We got out of the small car and walked quietly to the entrance. We entered a lobby-like room, and we both decided, kind of in our minds, that this was a good farewell spot. We embraced for a long time before breaking apart. We said our "good-bye"s and "I love you"s before taking our separate paths. I wiped a tear from my eye as I rolled my suitcase up towards security checks.

After I put my luggage onto the belt, to be picked up later, I went to see take-off times to Gothenburg, Sweden. No delays yet. I loitered by the baggage pick up after I got my boarding pass. After getting my stuff, I found a seat by the large window that viewed the planes taking off. I waited for about an hour and a half before my flight call came. Making my way onto the plane, I weaved through the masses of people before spotting my seat near the back of the plane. I moved towards my chair, (window seat, score!) crammed my bag into the luggage compartments, and slumped into my surprisingly comfortable seat. This plane wasn't too bad, really. It had an outlet, a small screen on the back of the chair in front of me, even WiFi. After about a ten minute's wait, a very handsome young had sat down next to me. He introduced himself as Jacks, a Swedish travel journalist. He spoke fluent English, but had a thick accent.

After a bit of chatting, the seat belt lights came on, and Jacks decided to move to the third chair in the row, which was very polite of him. Of course, it would have seemed rude if we where in any other site than a crowded, noisy plane. After a brief memo from the pilot, we began rolling down the runway at what seemed like lightning speed. I looked out the window, everything was a blur. Before I knew it, we lifted off into the air. I heard a couple gasps from my fellow flyers, and my heart skipped a beat as well. But once the euphoria from the lift-off, and the cheerful discussion with Jacks faded from my head, depressing thoughts seeped in once again. I knew this would be quite a long ride.

...

Thanks so much for reading my first chapter! I'll try to have the second up soon. Sorry it's a bit short, I hope to make my chappies longer in the future! I will probably post mostly on the weekends. Oh my gosh, it took all the strength I had to not say "broom, broom" after "my mom's car''. Oh bother...

Favorite, comment, don't hate :)

-OuranBandit