#misfits.

“Fuck.”

“I appreciate yur concern, miss. But, Oi’m foine. I don’ need help. S’ jus’ a small bruise. Ain’ nothin’ serious.” The slap from the other night hit harder then he had expected for it to redden then bruise like it did. Sure, it’s noticeable from afar and that it’s on someone as young as he is concerning. But what Drake didn’t want was pity from someone he didn’t know. “Soides, Oi’m sure m’ friends are gonna expect me in th’ next few houahs for something.” Drake didn’t know how else to tell her that he was going to face his punishment in the next few hours, but, it sounded omonoias either way. For whatever it was, Drake had slipped out earlier then Benjamin to enjoy himself which he tended to do whenever he needed to be alone. Benjamin will expect him to be back to the warehouse and that’s where it’ll continue. This cycle and repeating same crap between them that’s been going on for a year and a half. It’s always been about him and Benjamin. 

“Don’ mind em’. They’re jus’ lookin’ out fer everyone. We all know each othah anyway. They’re usually distrustin’ f’ new people s’ all.” The misfits. A place where England’s most prominent orphans and troublemakers stay. They usually move bases about every week from one location to the next which is why they’ve stayed so hidden from public eye. Even Drake himself had been treated indifferently for the first couple of weeks, but began to warm up to Drake when they could see that he could pull his weight around the warehouse and group itself. They seemed to have found another one out there without a purpose or reason to be among the streets. Streets life was very hard, so, they gave someone else a chance to belong. Drake owed it to the Misfits his reason for being a little more happier in life. Drake stood tall. “Oi’m Drake. Welcome to th’ Misfits. A place for kids like you n’ me. I can show ya to yur new bed. We all sleep togetha, jus’ letting y’ know. Sometimes we’ll crash on th’  balconies up there...” He points to the old dark brown catwalk for the warehouse. “...or couches tha’ we find on th’ curb. They koinda suck, but bettah then th; floor.”

Drake grumbled to himself finishing through what seemed to be the old can that had been lied out for him in a desolate street. “This is such bullshit.” He muttered to himself, starting to grow easily irritated by the amount of food he hasn’t found. And his stomach is KILLING HIM. Drake knows these rations thay are being handed out at the warehouse wasn’t enough. He was starting to grow weary and dizzy from just having little food handed out to him. Drake feeling the pains from his stomach grow at him, sending him to on his knees slightly. “This... this sucks. Why can’t no one have food tha’s available.” He muttered. He shakes his head? Grinding and standing up kicking the garbage can echoing off of the walls. “Dammit!” He exclaimed. He pressed his back against the wall, sighing. Knowing this is how life was for him, and he would have to get used to it.

“Does it look loike I gah anywhere else t’ go, smartarse? I... I just can’t go anywhere else. I-I keep somehow and stupidly hoping that I’ll be saved.

“Best thing once it turns summah. I can cool m’self off whenever I want. I guess tha’s th’ best part of havin’ weird powahs.