Pittsburg was hot this time of year. The sun beat down against his neck making sweat bead down his shirt and back, turning cool and sticky before you even stepped inside. Ludwig stood in the heat with his hands in his pockets, his gaze staring out across the parking lot, filled with cars and trucks, POS's and nice mommy and daddy graduation gifts alike. It was a paradise of class difference and he hated it, but he hated the graduation ceremony even more.

The gym was stuffy and hot and his hands hurt from clutching that little piece of paper so tight, his diploma crumbled in his own hands. And what was it now? Useless.

But he knew where he was going.

The Volkswagen was a little rough, rougher than it was in highschool when it withstood the rain on a bleak, black umbrella worthy occasion. It withstood constant weekend trips and hoards of wrapped up food and painted furniture in it's trunk, back seat and passenger seat. It had been there for him, and now it was manhandled into submission. The best years of it's life had come and gone. Five years of his life rolling along with it.

But, today, he knew where he was going.

He made it home before the heat let up and drove right past it, rolling along the gravel paths and cracked pavements, the bikeriders shouting at each other in the summer heat and the mom's rolling past with babies in strollers and strapped precariously to their hips. He rolled on.

And stopped.

The house looked nicer, nicer by far. It had been painted; 'I'll fucking get around to it.' New windows and window frames; 'I'll get around to it.' The rickety blueish porch had been teared down and replaced with a wraparound cedar porch complete with two wicker chairs perched near the door and a glass table in between; 'The porch is fucking fine!' It looked better. By far.

"God, It's so American it's making me sick."

Ludwig smirked. Lovino hunched his body against his car, making it clang worriedly. "I told them to fucking fix it, not fuck it up to hell."

"They did hand over the cash."

Lovino snorted. "And their creativity appearently."

"Dressed to sell?"

"Damn right."

Ludwig finally stole a glance towards Lovino, catching sight of his longer hair, tucked behind his ears and the noticeable tan to his naturally olive skin. His body was still skinny but the muscle definition was definitely there, hiding taunt underneath his short sleeved shirt and baggy pants.

"How was Italy?"

"Full of fucking Italians." He snorted, his lips dragging upwards. "Fucking awesome."

"Did you get to Asia?"

"Eventually." He sighed. "First I took the 'thirty dollars a month' approach to backpacking in Europe. I can sleep on fucking knives in an avalanche."

"Spain?"

"Boring as fuck."

"France?"

"Some dude tried to stick a baguette down my pants."

"England?"

"Fucking English!"

"Germany?"

Lovino paused, his eyes tearing themselves away from the house to look at him. "Who knows?"

Ludwig threatened a smile but held it down. "I hear it's beautiful."

"Bull." Lovino tread carefully, not sure whether to hope beyond hope. "It's probably all meat on a rope." He paused. "And full of Germans."

Ludwig chuckled and they fell into silence all over again, the whoops and shouts of kids down the gravel road fizzling and dying in the heat of late afternoon. He could feel the heat from the car burn a stripe over the back of his leg and down his back. It was too hot, too humid, too suffocating and with Lovino so close it was like the cool air was just around the corner, just out of reach. That cold shower to scrape off all the humidity and pain and struggle to pull yourself together. He could've reached out and touched it's tousled hair and tanned vellum.

"I guess we won't know," Ludwig broke the humid silence, shattered it even as Lovino sagged. "Until we go."

He froze for all of five seconds before he laughed, hard and long into the shattering pain and hate and agony that weighed Ludwig down so much he was drowning. And suddenly they were both laughing, both laughing like they had nothing to lose, nothing to prove and the world didn't know that this would be the last time they were ever the same again.

Maybe they were finally brave enough to be with one another. Or at least, side by side, shoulder to shoulder against what they couldn't understand.

"You are a little fucking prick sometimes, college boy."

Or, maybe, they had no idea.

I hope this is the last part, God forbid I have to make a sequal to this shitty little thingy. But here it is, I hope you like it, please don't ask me for any more!