Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Fullmetal Alchemist nor do I claim to.

Warnings: This story may contain themes including but not limited to; violence, depression, suicide, gender miss-identification, homosexuality, rape, incest, and suggestions at gang-related activities.

If any of those things offend you, please do not continue.

My depiction of these characters is not very canon at all, so don't say I didn't warn you. Don't forget to review when you're finished!

Chapter 1

My name is Envy

Konnichiwa. Hajime mashite, Kazumoto Envy desu. Or, at least that's what I'd say if I were still in Japan. My name is Envy Midori Kazumoto, but that's the long version. I prefer just Envy, because what possessed my parents to give me such a hideously long name eludes me. Don't even get me started on my middle name. To me it's a cruel joke, but apparently 'someone' thought they were being witty. Ha, ha. So funny. Oh, maybe I should explain this one. Midori is the word for 'green' in Japanese. Get it? Envy Green? "Green with Envy"..? See, not funny at all.

Anyway, usually middle names are not given in Japan, but that's where it gets tricky. I was actually my parents' first born, and I was birthed right here in the United States, ever so briefly residing in this chaotic realm of living that most people call New York City. So, it really wasn't all that strange that my folks decided to go ahead and give me a third name since I was 'special'. It's sort of shadowed over my head my entire life that I wasn't born in Japan, so I'm not really 'Japanese' in a sense. It's getting real old by now. It was only a short stay in the US though, and before you know it my entire family relocated back to the bustling metropolis of Tokyo, and I've pretty much been there ever since.

Well, until now, that is. I just turned 20, which is the legal age of 'adulthood' in Japan, and I blew that popstand as quickly as I could to get away from my family. I probably don't need to tell you that my family is from Japan originally, unless you somehow were so oblivious as to not notice my extremely oriental surname. My mother's name is Lust Kazumoto, and my father is Greed Kazumoto. Ironic, huh? I guess they had to keep the tradition of having a family of sins by naming me after the worst sin of them all. Envy really is an ugly thing, and I consider myself to be the living embodiment of it in every sense.

I have only one sibling; a younger brother named Wrath. Unfortunately for him, he's a lot younger than me so I wasn't able to take him with me. He's a little hellion at 13, but I promised him I'd come back for him someday. Hopefully when he's older and less annoying.

How the Kazumoto family came to be in New York and why the hell I was born here is a story for another time, though, trust me. You really don't want to know. They can stay in Japan forever for all I care. I've thought about changing my name too. Maybe just drop off all the clutter and just go by 'Envy'. I'm seriously considering it.

I could give you my whole life story right now but it would take forever, and not to mention it's really boring, so why don't I just start with what I'm doing right this minute. Hmm, currently I am sitting here, in my crappy depressing apartment, at my piano, having an intense case of writer's block. Yes, I am a musician in case I failed to mention that earlier. Not a very successful one, though, but I would never admit that out loud. As far as anyone knows, the entire world is in the palm of my hand. Okay that might be a slight exaggeration, but you get my point.

So, here I sit, staring down at the familiar expanse of white and black. My hair falls into my face annoyingly, and I deftly sweep it with my hand and tuck the loose strands of black behind my ear and let out an audible sigh. My long, delicate-looking fingers trace the ivory keys idly, and I cringe inwardly as my eyes linger on them. Too delicate. Feminine, even. I silently begin to loathe my own hand as I'm suddenly drawn out of my own thoughts by the peculiar feeling of eyes on me.

I finally look up, and see someone familiar standing in the doorway, leaning lazily against the frame with his arms folded and an almost bored look on his face as he watches me. I wonder how long he's been standing there. I guess I forgot to mention someone came with me when I bailed. It's my best friend in the entire world, Ling Yao. He's a year younger than me at 19, but far more accomplished than me in life in every way.

I take a moment to appreciate his appearance. He looks much more Japanese than I ever could, with his thick shoulder-length ebony hair in a neat pony tail and his perfectly sculpted, slightly tanned face that seems to never have the slightest blemish on it. A few strands of hair fall out of his pony tail due to being too short near the front, but I personally like it. It reminds me that he's not perfect, and for some reason that's humbling.

He dressed in black slacks, and a sickeningly simple white tee and the reason I say sickeningly is because he just makes it look great with zero effort.

I don't even really look Japanese as far as my facial structure goes, but my hair completely gives me away. I have the longest, straightest, blackest hair of anyone you'll ever meet and I am pale as a ghost. One might say the most unusual thing about my appearance is my eyes. They are a dark but have a very distinct violet hue which is hard to notice unless in good lighting. It's heredity, unfortunately. My entire family is plagued (or so I like to call it) with these purple eyes which are just another reminder of where I came from. Most of the time I think people just assume I have black or dark brown eyes, which I am perfectly okay with them thinking that. People say I'm striking and attractive, but when I look in the mirror, I don't recognize the person I see. In fact, I try to avoid mirrors entirely.

"Heeeeeey Envy," Ling calls to me, pulling me from my glum thoughts. He causes a small smile to tug at the corner of my mouth. I momentarily forget about my melancholy with him around.

"Nandayo, baka?" I ask playfully, causing Ling to advance on me and punch me right in the shoulder. We have the habit of occasionally bantering in Japanese.

"Betsuni," he says slyly, chuckling softly.

"Owwwww, that hurt you asshole!" I whine in near-perfect English as I rubbed my shoulder, much to his pleasure if at all indicated by his shit-eating grin. His accent is much thicker than mine, but I spent a good deal of time preparing and studying English before I moved.

"So, nothing's coming to you still?" Ling asks me with genuine concern suddenly lacing his face. I hesitate, taking in a breath. That told him everything he needed to know without me having to say a word. That's what I love about Ling, I don't really have to explain myself to him. He just knows.

"Ah, you'll figure something out, Envy-chan," he says, ruffling my hair with his hand. I frown irritably, immediately moving to smooth out the now haphazard strands.

"Yeah, sure," I say without conviction as I stand and push the piano bench back into place, casting a side-long glance at the keys once more.

I've been writing songs for this company who does ads and commercials for TV. 'Jingles', they call them, and I can't even express my hatred for that term in words. Lately though, I've just been coming up empty-handed, or they don't like what I have, and it's starting to get to me. Stress is not what I need right now on top of everything else. I need money, and I don't know how else to make it. I refuse to do anything illegal, and I will not give up and return to Japan. I refuse to live the same lifestyle as my parents. I just have to keep struggling on, but at least I am not alone. I have Ling. He works evenings at this really fancy restaurant as a chef. He may not look it, but he's actually an amazing cook. It's a good thing too because I can't cook to save my life, I will literally burn water.

He just smiles at me again in that oddly comforting way of his, causing my heart to do flip flops. Oh, did I not mention I also have a very severe and very secret crush on my best friend? It's kind of a touchy subject for me, and I'm fairly certain Ling has no clue because he's as straight as they come. He's constantly flirting with girls and I have to make a genuine effort to not turn green when he does it (there goes that pun again..I really do fit my namesake after all).

"It's almost noon, and you've been in here sulking all morning long." Ling chided me, evidently not noticing my face turning a very slightly rosy hue as he tugged on the sleeve of my shirt, indicating he wanted to go out and do something. Damn my skin, it shows every little emotion I possess. I shake myself internally, managing a smile.

"You're right, I shouldn't worry about this anymore today," I sigh, as if all my worries would exit my body with just that one puff of air. "It's Friday, after all. I have the entire weekend until I have to present something substantial to them on Monday." I say to him, fortunately feeling the heat in my cheeks going down as I talk about work.

Ling has to work tonight, but you wouldn't know it with how happy and bubbly he is. Just being around him makes you feel better, you literally cannot be upset around this guy. He continued along with me in tow, quickly leading me out of the apartment and down the road. Neither of us could drive, or even owned a car for that matter so we had to pretty much walk or bike everywhere. Not that I mind, I actually enjoy the fresh air after being stuck in a music room all morning.

"Where are we going?" I demand in a less-than-confident voice, and he simply smirks at me.

"Crazy." he replies simply, knowing it will make me nuts not knowing.

I sigh, knowing it's a lost cause to try and argue with him and just continue walking alongside him. I'm a little taller than Ling, but not by much. My hair hangs to about my lower back, so it's no easy matter to keep it tame. I suddenly realize I didn't really do anything with it before we left as I keep brushing it away from my face. Ling seemed to take notice of this.

"Why don't you put it up, like I do?" he asks with genuine curiosity.

"I don't know," I stutter with a small shrug. I never really did put up my hair, but sometimes I wear a headband or put clips in it to keep it away from my face.

"You didn't really give me a chance to do anything with it before you dragged me out here to go to who-knows-where with you," I complained haughtily, causing him to laugh.

"Envy, you're such a girl sometimes," he commented, catching me off-guard.

"I am NOT a girl!" I nearly shrieked, my defense going up instantly. Ling must have realized what he said, because he instantly puts his hands in the air in an 'I surrender' sort of way.

"Geez I'm sorry, I was just joking with you, calm down man. You know I didn't mean it." Ling gave a small nervous laugh, tilting his head to the side cutely.

My hackles are still raised from his comment, and I could just spit nails. I guess I need to explain this a little here. This has been an issue my entire life. Pretty much everyone thinks I'm a girl at first glance, and I've been taunted about it through school and just about every other kind of social gathering you could think of that one might attend during their life. It's been sort of a thing for me and I instantly get defensive over it, and I might possibly even over react a little. I'm not a girl, not at all. I clearly don't have the right parts. I don't even really like girls that much, though I don't really dislike them either. Ugh, I'm just not one, okay? I'm just...me. What ever 'me' is. I'm Envy, nothing more and nothing less. I'm not a girl.

"I'm ..not-" I repeat my internal thought out loud as I slowly deflate, the weight of things suddenly crashing down on me in this one moment and the force of it nearly sends me to my knees.

"Envy?" Ling knelt down beside me, placing a warm hand on my shoulder as I realized I actually did fall to my knees. When did that happen?.. I feel very faint and dizzy as Ling's voice floats into my consciousness. It takes me a moment to realize he's speaking to me. "Envy, it's all right. Have you taken your pill today?" he asks in a deliberately gentle voice as if he were afraid to upset me again. I shake my head slightly, rubbing at my eyes. Ling's face slowly comes into focus, and I blink back tears threatening to spill.

"I don't remember," I answer truthfully. I had other things on my mind...more important things to worry about than some stupid pill.

Ling sighs, pulling me to my feet and putting his arm around my shoulders in an almost protective way, pointedly ignoring the stares we were getting from passersby.

"C'mon, I'm taking you back home. We can go out tomorrow, ne?" he said, smiling his wonderful smile again, acting as if nothing happened at all. I give a slight nod, leaning into him as he leads me back to my dingy apartment that I share with him. Truth be told I don't really want to go back, but I know I need to and it's all my fault. Stupid, stupid. How could I be so stupid? Ling must really think I'm worthless, causing a scene like that in the middle of the sidewalk.

I continue to inwardly hate myself as we near the apartment door, and I pull away slightly from Ling to fish in my pocket for the key. He watches me do this, and I fumble with the key knowing his eyes are on me as I shakily try to insert the end of the key into the lock. My hands are shaking so bad and I get frustrated, but suddenly his hand is on mine and he curls his fingers around the key slowly, looking me in the face.

"I know you're stressed, but you shouldn't let it get to you like this. Things will be fine, I promise," his tone suggests he really believes what he's saying, and I want to believe him. I really do.

I release my grip on the key, and allow him to finish unlocking the door and open it for me before following me in. A brief thought that he's even treating me like a girl enters my head, but I shake it off. I need to stop thinking like that, this is Ling after all. He's my best friend, I think to myself. But of course a little part in the back of my mind reminds me that's exactly what he's always going to be, and nothing more. And with that, I grab my bottle of pills off the counter without looking in Ling's direction again. I saunter over to my music room, shutting myself in it once more.