Aiee, so many nice reviews :D

what-is-the-color-of-love: Perhaps, haha. Some people just have really bad gaydars, though. Russell's definitely the least likely to arouse suspicion though (purple shirt, red coat, leather pants - really, Ed? XD)

Fujoshi Laivine: Aw, thanks! That's what I was going for - I started rereading Seven Reasons and realized how bad it was compared to what I could do now. I'm glad you like it ^^

Linea Arlis: No, you don't get two replies. Greedy little thing XD

Tigerwulf: I'm glad you like this version! It's a lot more natural to write, and it's good to hear it's more natural to read, too. Envy being mute was a nice idea, but there's only so far I could go with it, especially in this kind of medium. I doubt I'll be doing any more rewrites, this one feels right ^^

Part 1: Kochou (Butterfly)

Chapter 3

The Mourner

The Angevin family were well known throughout the city, if not the whole country, by virtue of their parents. Dante Angevin had burst onto the Hollywood scene in her early twenties and was now well advanced into her fifties – still making movies, except this time with her name splashed in big letters across the top of the credits instead of hidden at the bottom.

Her husband was no less accomplished. Theophrastus Angevin was one of the most vocal of the ultra-Conservative majority in the House of Commons, with a charismatic manner that could fool even the most liberal thinker into agreeing with his policies at first blush.

The two had fallen in love at first sight at a red carpet gala, and proceeded with a whirlwind romance that ended up in a shotgun wedding. Six months later to the day, their first child was born. In a fit of irony – and perhaps a certain amount of schadenfreude– they named their nearly-illegitimate child Lust Angevin, and began the naming trend that would follow their five children to their graves.

After Lust came Greed; then Sloth, then Envy, and finally Wrath. Several times, the couple had voiced their wish for two more children to 'complete the collection' as they put it, but it was not to be.

It's probably just as well,thought Envy as he walked up the street to where the Angevin mansion rested on the corner. With how well most of us have lived up to our sins so far, a Gluttony and Pride in the family would probably cause too much trouble for even our parents to ignore.

He unlocked the door, opening it slowly and looking down. The only shoes in the vestibule were Sloth's black mary-janes and Lust's dusty high heels. Envy added his black-and-white keds to the pile, then made his way to his room.

"Hey, hey, where are you going?" Lust waved from the living room, pushing her wheelchair towards him. "Not even a hello?"

Envy chuckled. "Hello, Lust. Sorry, I thought you were probably asleep."

Lust scowled. "I can only sleep so much." She wriggled furiously in the wheelchair that kept her prisoner. "I'm just as lively as ever, and I'm not allowed to do anything about it!"

"Careful, you'll knock out your IV!" Envy caught the bag of saline water as it fell off the hook, and gently replaced it.

Lust chuckled. "Thanks. And…" She reached up, and touched the puffiness under Envy's eye. "What have you been doing?"

"It's nothing. It was an accident."

She shook her head. "Envy.Come on. I'm not Mother, or your teachers. I'm not dumb. Who was it? I'll punch them."

Envy's face flamed red. "Kimbley."

"That bastard! I'm glad I never slept with him." Lust caressed her little brother's face. "Try to stay away from him, alright?"

"I do try." He briefly debated telling Lust about Ed, Russell and Ling, then decided against it. "I'm going to get some work done, but can I get you a drink first?"

"Nah, I'm fine. Sloth grabbed me one." Lust held up her cup of fizzy water, then pinched Envy's cheek. "It's so cute how worried you are about me! Now go, work hard and keep your marks up so you can go to Harvard or wherever."

"Sure thing, Lust." As he walked away, she began to cough, deep, shaking, hacking coughs that not only shook her entire body but Envy's as well.

Ed collapsed on his bed, groaning. "Ahh…I love it when the Bastard's not home."

"Ed, stop calling him that!"

Ed stuck his tongue out at his brother. "I'll call him what I want. He's never here, and when he's not here, that means more food for me – and more of your excellent cooking."

Ed's younger brother flushed at the comment, and adjusted his ponytail. Alphonse may have been two years younger than him, but he was taller by at least two inches, with long brown hair and hazel eyes. While Ed took after his hated father, Al was a living version of their mother.

Al leaned against the doorframe. "Um, Ed…"

"What?"

"I got my report card today."

"What." Ed sat up immediately. "Please tell me –"

Al bit his lip.

"Al, come on. You can't be serious."

"I'm not being held back another year. They'll let me go into high school. But they want me taking Applied classes." Al couldn't look at his brother.

Ed sighed. "Great."

"I'm going to do better in high school, I promise."

Ed buried his face in his hands. "This is my fault. If I hadn't been so dumband gotten myself –"

"No!" Al pulled Ed's hands away. "It's notyour fault. Things happen.You needed your time, and I should have been able to keep my marks up on my own. But I'm going to do better now. So stop – blaming – yourself." He punctuated his last words with pokes to Ed's chest.

The corner of the blond's mouth turned up. "Ah, you always were my better half, marks or not. Hell, I've even started picking up strays like you."

"Oh? Are we getting a cat now?"

"Different kind of stray…sorry to disappoint you. I'm gonna take a nap." Ed flopped back down, hands folded behind his head.

A stray, huh…that's one way to describe him. I hope he's okay.His fingers itched to flip through the phone book and dial Envy, just to stop him. But he knew, possibly better than anyone, that talking someone down didn't work nearly as well as it did in the movies. Not when they truly meant it.

I could have told somebody…Like who? Roy Mustang was really the only viable option, and even he had already tried to get Envy to open up.

It was something most people never understood. The only person who could ever save Envy Angevin's life…was Envy Angevin.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven…

"Dammit!" Envy resisted the urge to throw the handful of pills against the will. He couldn't focus. He needed to find some sort of peace before…

He slammed his hand against the wall, and closed the small bottle with the other. He'd thought it was going to be easy. They were so small, so harmless-looking. It was like swallowing headache pills.

"Damn it…" he said again, falling against the wall and sinking to the floor. "Damn it." It was just a whisper this time, and he closed his eyes in an attempt to stop the tears from spilling out.

"I…wanted to see you again…" He put the pills back under the pillow. He was going to use them tonight…but not yet.

"Lust, Sloth, I'm going for a walk."

"Okey dokey! Laters, bro," came Lust's cheery reply, following by a stifled cough.

He needed to get out of here. He needed to get out before he snapped –

A few seconds later, he was standing on the asphalt in bare feet, shivering in the cold spring air. I really shouldn't be out here in nothing but a hoodie and jeans…He couldn't bear to go back inside that house just yet though.

Envy started walking, notebook clutched to his chest. All of his senses seemed to be on fire – every cold piece of gravel digging into the skin of his sole was distinct from each other, and the wind whipping his hair around seemed to be whispering dark things into his ears.

He kept going, despite the cold. There was somebody he needed to see.

Suddenly, in what seemed like both eternity and an abominably short amount of time, he was there. He opened the waist-high gate, running his hands along the black cast-iron spikes.

The Birchwood Graveyard.

Gravel gave way to softer, warmer dirt under his feet, then to newly-grown grass that itched and tickled. There weren't many graves in Birchwood, and the ones he was looking for were three years old already.

"There you are…" he whispered, and fell to his knees. He reached forward and brushed his fingers against the stone of the grave. The name etched into the granite was still crystal clear, with sharp edges that still hadn't had the time to erode away.

Martel Rockbell. 1995-2007. Requiescat in pace.

"I'm sorry, Martel," whispered Envy to the gravestone. "I tried, I really did. But I guess I'm just no good at living without you. I'd rather be with you…no. That's not true. I wish it had been me. Nobody would miss me."

His vision was blurring.

"I miss you, you idiot." It was getting hard to speak. "Look, I'm making a total idiot of myself. Just…wait around a bit longer, alright? I'll be along soon."

Martel's tombstone was silent.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," he muttered, looking away. "What've I got to stay for? I can't help Wrath. I can't help Lust. Look at it this way – I'll be with you, and Lust'll be along soon enough."

Someone had leant a framed photo of Martel against the tombstone, and looking directly at it for the first time, he felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. He doubled over, touching his head to the cold earth.

"My eye hurts," he spoke to the ground, ignoring the tears that were watering the grass by his face. "and my face hurts, and my heart hurts, and my head hurts, and everything hurts, Martel. I just want to make – it – stop.

"There's Greed at home – he's gotten worse since you…left. And Kimbley at school, and Lust is dying…" He pressed his hand into the dirt, nails digging into the loose soil. "What do I do, Martel? What the fuck do I do without you?"

Sleep,replied the part of his brain that had kept him sane over the three long years, the part of his mind that had taken on her voice and mannerisms. Sleep, my love, and I'll keep you safe.

"I won't go…just yet…" Envy thought of the forty-nine pills. "I…I think I might…" His mouth was so dry. "I think I might have somebody waiting for me."

Don't disappoint him.

He couldn't stop crying. "I love you," he managed to choke out, even as his tired and sore eyes began to close.

Branded on the insides of his eyelids was a video clip, repeating itself over and over again – Martel bending over him, kissing his forehead and mouthing, I love you too, you idiot.