2D knew he was sick.

When he was younger, the doctors would call him sick. After they would give him a sweet, they would tell his parents that he was very sick and should always be kept under a watchful eye. His dad would always nod but his mother would always frown. One time, after one of his visits, his mother pulled him aside.

"You're not sick, Stu." She told him. "Just a little different. I want you to take these, they'll help. I know they'll help." Then she would hand him bottles and bottles of pills whenever he asked for them. They did help. They helped a lot.

His old schoolmate's used to think he was sick. When he would light up or jump off of a high place or break something, they would call him sick. One time, he snorted so much cocaine, his nose bled for three hours. Sick, mate! You're sick! That's what they said. 2D had always liked it when they did that.

A lot of birds called him sick, too. He would shag them and get them pregnant and they would pound on his chest and scream, You're sick! And then they would cry and cry and he never knew how to make them stop. Every time he talked, they would just cry louder so they didn't have to hear him. So, he would leave them and send them money so he wouldn't have to hear them cry.

"Are you sick, Toochi?" Little Noodle would ask whenever he was high enough to touch the sky. She would press the back of her hand to his forehead, narrowing her dark eyes suspiciously. "You are cold. And sweating. Are you okay?"

He would smile, nodding dizzily.

"'s okay, Noods. I'm always like this." He would laugh until he was red in the face but Noodle wouldn't laugh.

Murdoc liked to call him sick. Sometimes it was after he hit him and sometimes it was after he fucked him. It was confusing because they were the same words but they didn't always mean to same thing.

"You are sick, sunbeam." He would growl in between gasps. He would grab 2D by the shoulders and dig his fingernails in, smashing their lips together with a bruising amount of force. He would bite his tongue and lips until it became too messy. Then he would pull away, licking away the evidence. Then he would leave. 2D liked it when he stayed, but he didn't do it a lot.

When 2D upset him, Murdoc would be angry with him. He would scream.

"You have a death wish?!" He would shriek, bottle hanging drunkenly from his hands. When 2D didn't answer, he would just snarl at him. "You sicken me." He would shove him on to the ground, kicking his stomach until 2D felt like his guts were bursting. 2D didn't usually remember what happened after that. He always ended up in his own room, though. Sometimes on the floor or sometimes his bed, but always black and blue and red.

When 2D would watch Murdoc's every move, Russel would call him sick.

"Are you sick in the head, 'D?" He would say, looking from him to the bassist with wide eyes. "Why him, man?" He would demand, glaring at him. "Why him?"

2D would just smile and shake his head because he didn't know. He didn't know why him.

He had just always been sick.

A/N: May continue this. Hope you enjoyed! :)