(EDIT) Fixed the description, it should flow much more neater now, hopefully.

A.N. Thank you so much for all of those who reviewed and added this story to their favourites! I am so glad you liked it! :D

Here's the second part, this time in Edward's point of view. I'm personally pretty proud of this chapter. It was really hard to write, mainly because I didn't want to repeat the last chapter from another point of view, and the lyrics could be interpreted in so many different ways. Well, hope you guys like it anyhow.

Et allons-y!

-

Disclaimer: Characters don't belong to me. FullMetal Alchemist belongs to Hiromu Arakawa.

Lyrics: Bye Bye Beautiful - Nightwish

Pairing: Envy x Ed

Warning: References to yaoi/shonen ai (love between men), heavy gore, violence, language.


Part Two

Bye Bye Beautiful

Finally the hills are without eyes
They are tired of painting a dead man's face red
With their own blood

It really must have been God's irony, that it was in that precise moment, lying on the pavement, his bloodied intestines entwined in a complicated knot, barely shielded from the outside fury of Nature by a thin, ragged cloth that Edward Elric thought it would be a good idea to re-evaluate his life.

Perhaps it was the epiphany one reaches when on the verge of dying that is much discussed and spoken of that triggers the mind, however hazed by either pain or panic, to start thinking about the past.

Past achievements.

Memories.

Past regrets.

Whatever it was, Edward thought grudgingly, biting his lip again and groaning when another wave of pain washed over him, grip around his middle tightening in vain attempt to shut it out,

It sure had a fucking bad sense of timing.

Clouded amber eyes warily blinked and looked off in the distance again, straining to make out someone, something – anything.

But all he could see through the thick, silvery curtain of rain that mercilessly pounded down on his battered figure was the outline of the rocky mountains that rose into the clouds. The reminder of the wilderness that was beyond the lively lights and busy streets of Central.

One quite similar to where the ambushed Ishvarlan people must be seeking refuge in.

A brief fragment of the Alchemy meeting flashed into his mind, a reminisce and debate of where the wary tribe must be hiding now that bloody days of the Civil war were thankfully over, and the countryside was slowly beginning to wash the sinful blood dried on those very mountains, the land burying the mutilated corpses deep into its soiled embrace, hiding both the terror that used to be and the scars the State Alchemists engraved the bloody judgement in the victims' flesh.


They used to love

Having so much to lose
Blink your eyes just once

And see everything in ruins

But why was he suddenly reminiscing over the fate of the Ishvarlans when that was the very, very least of his problems…?

The blonde alchemist groaned again, eyes squeezing shut, trying to ignore the purple splodges dancing before his vision, quietly cursing his short attention span when it came to something else then research. His fingers tentatively brushed the soaked fabric aside, and he attempted to somehow scoop his organs back inside his body. However, at the faintest touch, he recoiled, biting back a raw scream that arouse in his throat, causing his stomach to tear open further, his panicking lung glistening among the safety of his ribs.

He bit back a sob, whimpering as he closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to ebb away, only the slightest…

Electricity crackled through the sky again, the wind howled through the empty street, making his solitary figure shudder miserably, clutching the torn coat around himself.

What had gone wrong? Wasn't he in a meeting, yawning and being eaten by boredom just a few hours ago, with a promise for excitement hidden in the depth of his pockets?

His casual plans on when to suffer through the unavoidable task of paperwork, and the budget sorting for his next trip with Al, a little lazing around and bribing Hawkeye to lend him enough money to buy dango…it all seemed like a hazy dream, unreal, detached from this harsh reality, pounding with pain.

He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, heart clutched by a trickle of childish hope that this was some ghastly nightmare.

However, when his eyes opened, the blurred image of the empty, abandoned street seemed, if possible, even colder.

In a blink of an eye, in a matter of a short hour, everything he knew to be stable and true crumbled abruptly and crashed in a smouldering, brittle pile of rubble, with his helpless body trapped underneath it.

And no one was there to pull him out from under the wreck.


Did you ever hear what I told you?
Did you ever read what I wrote you?
Did you ever listen to what we played?
Did you ever let in what the world said?

After a few more minutes of struggling – and possibly tearing all the muscles in his abdomen, halving his already fragile lifespan, the blonde alchemist dropped both hands with a frustrated cry and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the stubborn throbbing in his side.

He drew his hands close to his body, trying to keep as warm as possible. His numb fingers brushed against the swelling on his neck. The blonde bit his lip before rubbing his thumb over the sensitive wound absentmindedly, feeling his chest tighten.

His mind was still numb from the past hour's events, like a stuck typewriter, unable to process this enormous amount of information suddenly thrust upon him – quite literally, in form a transmuted blade.

He had previous experiences which completely tore him apart and shook his beliefs to the core, forcing him to reshape his ideals and morals.

But nothing even remotely close to this.

How could he?

How could he just…play the other all these long months? How could he have pretended?

Did the andrygous motherfucking bastard really not get anything the other attempted to communicate through to him all this time?

What about all those letters? Notes in secret codes that could only be forged by them? Those late-night twenty-second phone calls made at four o'clock in the morning, the Homunculus waking a grumbling Edward up just so he could coo and make chicken noises down the phone, the green-haired male's laughter echoing through the room as the enraged and rather sleepy blonde screeched back down the line, absolutely livid before slamming the phone back down?

What was all that then?

Or was the alchemist really that easily deceived by Envy's acting skills, polished and formed by the centuries of experience he gained to survive?

Was it just that? Fooled by the adaptation skills of the fittest in the concrete jungle of humans and outcasts?

…was it really so insignificant…?

…was he so insignificant…?


Did we get this far just to feel your hate?
Did we play to become only pawns in the game?

Edward squeezed his eyes shut, a fraction of their first conversation flashing into his mind again.

"…remember, the only reason you're alive, the only reason I haven't killed you yet is because they told us not to."

He could faintly recall Lust's comment about the Homunculi not asking Edward for what they told him to do – they were commanding him.

He winced again as pain seared through his head, his own voice ringing in his ears as he hotly and furiously protested at the mere idea, raging amber locked with cool and calculating amethyst.

A fraction of the old anger rose in him, making his frown deepen.

Him and Al came to search for the stone on their own free will! He became a lowly slave to the military out of his own damn free decision! They were NOT someone's pawns in their grand, dirty scheme, to be blackmailed into using their hard-earned knowledge to be then tossed aside!

However, a sharp jolt of sickening nausea from abdomen unceremoniously dragged him back to reality.

…he really had become a pawn.

A puppet in the huge plan of the immortal prodigies, hell-bent on making their wish a reality.

An important puppet – perhaps the queen on the chessboard.

But a puppet nonetheless.


How blind can you be, don't you see?
You chose the long road, but we'll be waiting

He clamped his jaw shut, letting out a quiet, frustrated whimper, hissing when his fingers brushed against his barely concealed ribcage.

Envy…y-you motherfucking son of a… he thought sourly, gritting his teeth.

Are you really this bloody fucking blind? Are you really going to let all of…this…all that we damn worked for…and did…just for an attempt to kill yet another human? Just to spill another creature's blood – ones you deemed to be the sole source of your misery?

can't you see it could be different?

Clouded eyes closed for a second before opening with a film of moisture and steely determination.

You've just pushed the timer further up, but haven't destroyed it. You lengthened your fate, not erased it.

You made your suffering longer. But despite your idiocy…and your cruelty…I'll wait for you at the end.


Bye bye, beautiful
Die, Die beautiful

The sharp sting of the rainfall dragged him out of his thoughts once again, the chilled precipitation piercing his overdriven senses like a shower of needles, hurled blindly at his hunched form.

His grip around himself tightened, a vain attempt to pull and keep himself together, even though he was painfully aware that both his body and soul were falling apart.

And he was without any sort of assurance that the damage could ever be repaired.

Inevitably, with every drop seeping out from his wounds, another grain of sand tumbled to the bottom of the hourglass counting the time he spent on the mortal side of the Gate.


Jacob's ghost for the girl in white
Blindfold for the blind
Dead siblings wanting the dying earth

It really was true that the human being was the sole animal…the sole creature who managed to kick the same rock twice.

Nature, although often shunned by the so-called highest creatures of society and nature, extended the intelligence and rule into all animals – if you make a mistake and cause yourself and others pain, do NOT do it again.

Ergo, the dog that stuck its paws into the fire, with its tender and singed muscles, will never repeat it.

However, humans once again declined any 'coyoling' and slapped away Mother Nature's helpful hands in order to attempt to solve the problem themselves.

And promptly, and quite predictably, fall flat on their faces in this matter.

However much Ed would have liked to deny it dozens of times, he was still human, and by no means exception to this.

The blonde alchemist could have learnt when the transmutation of his beloved mother failed, leaving him and his brother crippled, that certain rules – unlike the millions of regulations in his State Alchemist handbook – were written for a reason.

That you didn't break these rules for a reason.

When having a nostalgic moment on their travels, he always pictured their late mother sitting on a cloud, her thin frame wrapped in white silk, her chestnut curls wound up in a bun.

Perhaps a childish interpretation of an angel...yet he was terrified of imagining what Trisha Elric must look like now, weakened by her mortal struggle and violently ripped from her grave, unceremoniously dumped back to the land of the living.

Ghastly way to pay tribute to someone so innocent.

Ghastly way to show respect by staining her ghostly silk robe in blood.

The blonde's shivers grew worse as his thoughts swirled thicker, guilt suddenly flushing his conscience.

During their hasty training and preparations, he never once doubted that bringing their mother back was in any respect wrong. Trisha was the purest, kindest, most charitable soul ever to shine among the millions of dull candle-souls. If anyone deserved a great sacrifice, it was her.

His gaze bore into the rippling surface of a puddle, heart giving a painful lurch.

They were so wrong all along. So blind.

Blinded by their pain and longing for stability, for love…and the never-ending possibilities alchemy offered only served as a blindfold to the truth.

It wasn't about whether it was possible or not.

It wasn't only the fact they couldn't bring people back from the dead – they shouldn't.

It wasn't that you couldn't fall for the enemy…

You shouldn't.

It wasn't you couldn't challenge Nature and not tear down the forbidden fruit for forbidden, sinful pleasure…

It was because ultimately, it will just end with a rather painful crash back to reality.


Noose around a choking heart
Eternity torn apart
So toll now the funeral bells

Oh, and just how painful it was.

Upon hearing gossiping teenage girls in the library, or sniffing secretaries in the cafeteria, sharing the idle bit of gossip about their love lives between giggles or their latest heartbreak between sobs (and rather loud blows into frilly handkerchiefs), he would always scoff or frown.

What useless drama, what unnecessary fuss. It's just some damn fickle emotion. Get over it! he would always whisper to Al, who would scold him gently.

While he would always retaliate that the sobbing girl would most likely have a new lover in three days maximum, Ed would always silently swear he will never submit himself to this sort of humiliating ordeal.

And at the time, it didn't seem to be such an excruciating task – the only potential female he knew was Winry, and the blonde alchemist was more then happy to let the mechanic marry his brother.

If it meant getting less hits over the head with that wrench…

Now he really did understand why there was such a shortage of tissues and cake every time a female officer suffered heartbreak in the military.

Not even the bullet wound he once received hurt as much as the persistent, dull ache in his chest. The pain of rejection and all-too-familiar dreaded loneliness were curling around his windpipe and panicking heart in a chokehold.

He groaned in frustration when the street once again wavered, the hardware shop melting and moulding into a sienna puddle before taking a vague shape of a steeple tower.

The huddles, entwined outline of two figures stood sharply against the large, pearly sheen of the moon. Their legs dangling over the edge of the small window, the smaller one faked terror and gripped the taller one's long hair for support, making him shriek out and smack him on the head.

"I'm going to fall ooooff!"

"Get your damn gloved paws off me, chibi-chan!" the other snapped.

The other ignored his request, mocking the other by imitating his shriek, making the Homunculus roll his eyes and wrap an arm around the squirming alchemist's waist protectively.

"Stay put, shrimp, you know I won't let you fall."

At the other's sceptical glance, Envy smiled a little. "Yeah. You imagine what a mess it would make?" he explained without batting an eyelid. "You don't want to give those nice ladies in this monastery a heart attack, do you, when they wake up for their morning prayer and they see you with a broken neck?"

This earned him a rather hand kick on the shins, and the dirtiest look since Envy dared to point out that only females wear high platform shoes.

The older male chuckled, pulling the sulking alchemist closer, resting his chin on top of his head, humming.

"…it's such a nice evening…"

"Yeah. Y'know, it's kind of funny. Two hundred years ago, the moon still looked exactly the same. I watched it from the top of a hill instead of a steeple tower, but it was the same colour…the same size…it gave you the same feeling…"

Edward smiled, fingers absentmindedly playing with the ends of the emerald tresses. "D'ya reckon it will be the same another four hundred years later?"

"Most probably."

"…Envy?"

"Hmm?"

"…you're immortal, right?"

He raised an eyebrow at the question, shrugging lightly. "…yeah. I'm pretty sure bout it."

"What does it feel like?'

Frowning lightly, taken aback by the sudden topic change, amethyst eyes rose to trace the dusky paths of a distant galaxy. "…in a way, it's exhilarating. There are no limits to what you can do, in a sense, as you're never going to die, grow older…or get crippled. Fascinating as you can see how the world moulds and changes around you. But…it's terrifying in another sense…when you think those endless centuries…millennia…alone…"

Edward gave a soft noise of agreement, blinking in surprise when he was pulled closer.

"…but now…eternity doesn't seem so bleak anymore…" the other murmured under his breath, eyes cast down, as if admitting something embarrassing.

"…Envy…I'm not im-"

"Shut up." He sighed, fingers lightly caressing his back. "Details, details…"

Eternity, huh? he thought bitterly as the scene faded back to the weather-beaten street, feeling a tear slip down his cheek, throat burning. As if to mock him, the hollow, sorrowful clung of those very church bells rung in his ear, as if flashing from the near future.

How ironic.

"I need to die to feel alive"

After that one particular night, he lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, fingering his pocket watch.

Would he really sacrifice everything…well, not everything, but his beliefs…the little family…for a chance to live eternity?

Would he become…someone like him, if he had the chance, so they wouldn't be ripped apart by mortality?

By some respects, the prospect of being a Homunculus sounded promising – they were free to go as they wished, the only force driving them was their own will to become whatever they wished.

And those unique abilities…

Those unattainable by any sort of alchemy or gene mutation…

And he had to admit, when he was soaring above the ground, held securely, locked in the inhumane jumps from building to building…or when he was locked with a fierce, fiery kiss with the immortal, pressed against the cold alley walls…when his limbs were entangled with the other's chilled flesh, devoured by the flames of desire…when being held by an undead, unnatural force, forced back to the ranks of the living…that was when he really felt alive.


Did you ever hear what I told you?
Did you ever read what I wrote you?
Did you ever listen to what we played?
Did you ever let in what the world said?

Was he really so ready to sacrifice all that for the other male?

He really was smitten…so trusting and willing to give up so much, when all the other wanted was to rip him apart and leave him to drown in his own blood and the filth of the earth?

Pushing himself forward with trembling limbs, crying out as his sensitive flesh near his wound was dragged along the rough concrete, he struggled not to break down. Concentrate…he thought weakly, gritting his teeth, ignoring the blood trickling down his chin, and the slowly amplifying nausea growing in his stomach.

Forwards…

Forwards…

Need to keep going.

why did you betray me, you fucking bastard? Why?

What did I do wrong? Didn't I tell it to you enough?

there should be a town hall here somewhere, where I can call help…

I thought you felt the same…

Hawkeye should be in, she'll get here…I don't want Mustang to see me like this…

you motherfucking son of a bitch…

Hopefully they could sew this wound together…

didn't you listen? Didn't you hear me? Why? Why?!


Did we get this far just to feel your hate?
Did we play to become only pawns in the game?
How blind can you be, don't you see?
You chose the long road, but we'll be waiting

After a painstakingly crawled metre – leaving a trail of blood and what suspiciously looked like bile seeping from his intestines – Edward collapsed again, panting and gritting his teeth, arm clutching his torso. He let out a humourless laugh when he felt his intestines trying to slip through his fingers onto the soaked ground below.

Everything really iwas/i working against him…

He once again contemplated on just giving up to the tempting allure of passing gout on the pavement and blissfully surrendering to the prospect of bleeding to death.

hey, someone needed to feed those stray dogs as well… he reasoned with a weak, dry chuckle, immediately clamping a hand over his mouth a moment later to muffle his coughs. He cringed when he felt the torn cloth dampen with blood and bile.

What did it matter?

He was just a damn pawn in a vicious scheme, just deposited as he was no longer any use to his so-called 'employers'.

After a few seconds, the blonde alchemist swallowed the bitter taste of defeat and spat viciously into the nearby puddle, wounded pride shifting, satisfied at the refusal to admit defeat yet.

He ran away. From me, from everything. But I won't follow him on that cowardly path – I'll drag myself to the end and wait for him there.


Bye bye, beautiful
Die, Die beautiful

However long his pride decided to hold out, his body wasn't intent on following such courageous path. His heartbeat was already slowing down, his body temperature chilling, giving his bloodied flesh a pale tint. The thinning walls of his inner organs throbbed painfully, loosing the battle to keep both heat and blood inside the other shamefully.

Edward whimpered as he felt life drain from him with every slow, painful heartbeat. He brushed the ends of his fringe out of his eyes with some difficulty, wincing when he saw the butter blonde locks caked with dried blood. His dull amber eyes caught his reflection in the murky puddle and he winced, a dreary mask from a horror and macabre show glancing back at him with its dreary, gory lifelessness.

A new kind of beauty, perhaps.

One the Grim Reaper, would very soon have the chance to appreciate.


It's not the tree that forsakes the flower
But the flower that forsakes the tree
Someday I'll learn to love these scars
Still fresh from the red-hot blade of your words

/i

He spat out another mouthful of blood on the side, now tinted with a sickening shade of green. Cringing and letting out a disgusted grunt, he lowered himself on his side for a short break from his crawling.

It truly was the quiet danger, one who hid in the shadows that posed the biggest threat. While there were those who brandished their blades, rusted with their previous victories' lives, but it was those who followed you in silence, then jumped out to slit your throat from behind, free hand in your pocket who could you take you by the greatest surprise.

And it was these sneaked attacks that left you reeling both from shock and surprise that stung the most.

It truly wasn't the warriors who challenged great empires who caused the downfall of the great – but the small, insignificant who crept in the system, unnoticed, and stabbed the trusting in the back at the precise moment.

But it didn't matter anymore…

Perhaps when crawling through the smoky depths of the damned, he would appreciate the scars left behind the immortal's blade.

Cuts these deep were bound to marr the body or contained his soul would rest in the afterlife…both the physical, and the mental ones torn by the harsh screams hurled at him before the green-haired sin took off.

Perhaps once, he will be proud.

Once, he will learn to feel honoured at this twisted, sick display of pretended love and affection.

In this world or the next.

...How blind can you be, don't you see...
How blind can you be, don't you see...
How blind can you be, don't you see...
...that the gambler lost all he does not have...

It was harder to deicide at that very moment on which of them was more foolish and blind.

Who really was the biggest fool here?

Was it the stubborn sin who refused to let anyone close to him, and has severed his very last ties and hopes to ever having something remotely close to being human?

…or was it alchemist, whose gambles for the uncertain had finally crashed and crumbled to dust, leaving him at peril?

Lidded eyes turned to the sky, a dry, humourless laugh leaving his lips at the irony of it all, until his body was shaking with hysterical chuckles, ignoring the violent throbs of pain in protest.

He just lost everything. Everything he never had. His castle cloud has fallen apart, leaving him hurtling towards the ground. The magic has fallen, the sparkling gold dropping its disguise and turning to lead in his hands.

Illusions. Lies.

He just lost them all.


Did you ever hear what I told you
Did you ever read what I wrote you
Did you ever listen to what we played
Did you ever let in what the world said
Did we get this far just to feel your hate
Did we play to become only pawns in the game
How blind can you be, don't you see

You chose the long road but we'll be waiting

His joyless laughter echoed off the buildings, eventually drowned in another coughing fit. Weakly trying to get rid of the liquid in his windpipe, he doubled up, dizziness getting worse. As the coughs got worse, the pain worsened alongside, his grip on reality steadily weakening with every wave of agony.

I…I can't hold on…

Pawn.

"The only reason you're alive, the only reason I haven't killed you yet is because they told us not to…"

"…I'm not asking you, Fullmetal. I'm telling you to do it."

Worthless.

Puppet.

"…eternity doesn't see so bad anymore…"

Immoral.

Unnatural.

"I won't let you fall."

Love.

Cherished.

lies.

I don't want to anymore…

Bye, beautiful
Die, Die beautiful

"EDWARD!"

He blinked, a raindrop running down his clammy face into his eyes, a drop quivering at the ends of his eyelashes. Through the distorted colours and shapes, he could just about make out a pair of polished boots running down the street, splashing through he puddles towards him. A voice…female, but with a harsh and agonized tint, was shouting his name…over and over again…

He attempted to answer, but his limp tongue refused to obey. He coughed a couple more ties, retching with nausea.

"…hurts…" he managed to murmur before his misty eyes rolled to the back of his head and his exhausted body surrendered to the luring temptation of unconsciousness.

TBC…

Comments? Please?