Just some weird idea I got while reading another fic. It started out as something else, but I decided it might offend some people, so I changed it to this. A special thanks to DrkHrtWritr27 who helped me a little. I hope you like it!

Mark sat alone, buried underneath the five blankets his mom had sent over the years. He was having those feelings again. Those horrible, bitter, angry feelings. He was usually able to overcome them within a couple of hours, but this bout seemed exceptionally strong.

And it was always the same thought that came back to him- everyone loved Roger. Everyone loved his sandy hair (gelled and short or long, it didn't really matter). They loved his piercing, fierce, green eyes that surveyed the world carefully. They loved his muscular, perfectly carved body. They loved his scent. That sweet, vanilla scent that left you wanting more. And they especially loved his musical side. The rocking, hardcore guitarist singing his heart out to his loyal fans. Yes, everyone loved Roger.

Mark didn't mind that everyone loved his friend. In fact, he was happy Roger was so popular. It was the fact that no one loved Mark that made him so upset.

Yes, no one loved Mark. No one loved his thick, nerdy glasses that made it possible for him to see the world around him. No one loved the way Mark carried his camera around like a security blanket. No one loved his scrawny body or his too strong, cinnamon scent from years of tasting his mom's cinnamon buns. And no one loved his watery, clear, blue eyes. No one loved Mark.

And so, for a couple of hours every few weeks, Mark would crawl up into a little ball beneath the blankets on his bed and feel sorry for himself and hate the world that loved Roger. No one ever questioned Mark about it, they just left him alone. It was just some Mark thing.

Yes, usually those feelings would go away after a few hours, but this time, it wasn't fading. If anything, these emotions were growing stronger and Mark didn't know how much longer he could fight it back.

Suddenly, Mark's eyes flashed red.

Everyone loved Roger. No one loved Mark.

Not if he could help it. No one would love Roger if he could help it. Yes, no one would love Roger and everyone would love him.

Mark, a maniacal glint in his eyes, slowly threw the blankets off of his thin body and stalked out of the room. There was Roger- perfect, loved Roger- sitting on the sorry excuse of a couch, playing his beloved guitar. The guitar that was more popular than Mark would ever be.

Roger put down his guitar and smiled when he saw his friend enter the room. "Hey Mark," he said, "Feeling better?"

Mark's left eye twitched and he put on a fake grin that reminded him of the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland.

"Yes Roger," he replied robotically, "Much better. Step outside with me so I can take your picture? It's such a nice day."

Mark picked up his camera and slung it over his head and Roger gave him a funny look.

"Um, okay Mark," Roger said unsurely, getting up and walking out onto the fire escape.

Mark followed, holding Roger's guitar. "I want your guitar in the picture," Mark said automatically, keeping his eyes diverted so Roger couldn't see the wicked spark residing in them.

"Alright," Roger muttered, taking his guitar from Mark's grip, "What do you want a picture of?"

"YOU DYING!" Mark shouted, lunging forward and pushing Roger off of the fire escape.

Roger fell and grabbed onto the wire frame just a few feet down and still within Mark's reach.

"What the fuck Mark?" Roger yelled, gripping onto the escape so tightly his knuckles turned white.

And that's when Mark leaned over the side of the fire escape, his face as white as Roger's knuckles. The evil in his eye was replaced by worry and sorry and fear, along with tears.

"R-R-Roger," Mark whispered, "I-I'm so sorry! I-I don't know what came over me. Here, give me your hand."

Mark offered his hand and Roger reluctantly took it. Luckily for him, Mark pulled him up with unknown strength.

"Hey Mark," Roger began when he was safely on the fire escape.

"Yes?"

"That was pretty hot."

Mark giggled.

Yes, everyone loved Roger, even Mark.