And this part (and what follows) is where it deviates from AilishMelodien's version.
Review! :D
In his nightmares, he was never left alone. More and more nightmares, compounded, each time he jerked awake and fell back asleep, a worse one would appear, always culminating in that damned purple butterfly. As the days went by, he looked even worse than Elizaveta did. His face was pale and his eyes had dark shadows under them. He looked just as ill as Francis, if not more so.
It went to the point of just a lethargic apathy, lying on his bed with his eyes closed without moving. The butterfly would be there, he just knew it, and that would push him over the edge. He'd seen it in his nightmares, just an ominous portent of impending...something. It terrified him, and that in itself scared him more than he could ever admit.
After the fifth day, his brother dropped by to see him.
Ludwig was a good brother, more responsible, more mature, even more muscled, and he always seemed the older of the two. Today his face was creased with worry under his slicked-back blond hair. "Hallo, brother."
Gilbert inclined his head, sitting up and daring to open his dull eyes. "Hallo."
Ludwig sighed and sat down on the bed, smoothing his coattails. "No point in beating around the bush. I'm worried about you, Gilbert."
The albino tried to laugh. It came off as more of a choke. "Me? What's wrong with me? I'm fine, Luddy, you worry too much."
Ludwig did not appear convinced. "Elizaveta's been asking for you, and Francis has taken ill recently-did you notice? Or were you just moping in bed?"
"I'm not moping." He meant that, though the fact that Elizaveta had been looking for him made his heart sing. "I just don't feel good." Mentioning that he was plagued by a butterfly didn't sound awesome, and in fact was just plain humiliating. Luddy would laugh, and nothing would get better.
Ludwig sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "Listen, if Roderich's death is affecting you-"
"It's not him!" Gilbert exploded, sitting up straight with indignation. "I don't even like him!"
His brother looked skeptical. "I'm sure."
After a prolonged moment of silence, the blond sighed. "Listen, Gil, I'm still your brother, even if I'm busier now. You can tell me anything."
Looking into his brother's earnest face, the albino really did want to spill. Open up and tell his brother how he murdered the Austrian to get to Elizaveta. But no, that would undo an eternity's careful planning, so he pressed his lips together and said nothing.
After another moment, the German cast his eyes downwards, defeated. "All right, then. You can play your cards close to the deck. I don't care anymore." He stood and left, leaving the albino feeling as if he had lost something important.
After a moment of befuddled thinking, he grasped it; his brother.
He leaped to his feet, trailing silken blue bedsheets, and cried "Ludwig, wait!", all fears of the indigo butterfly forgotten. Gilbert lurched into the hall, where his brother had just stopped and started to turn around, his face an almost comical picture of befuddlement as the other embraced him.
"I'm sorry I'm not being entirely clear with you," said the albino honestly. "I'm just going through what is possibly the most difficult time of my life, not because of that unawesome Austrian's death, but because...of a personal problem. Please don't take it personally, Luddy. It's just me."
Ludwig looked his brother up and down. He was disheveled, looked half mad, what with his tousled white hair and dark eye circles, but he was being completely serious, which meant something big was going on. If Gilbert wanted to keep it a secret, that was fine. It was none of his business.
He smiled at his brother and held up one hand. "Promise me you'll get up and act normal again."
The albino completed the gesture. "Pinky promise."