Percy sometimes wishes that he was one of the high-class people from the Upper East Side that he occasionally delivers for.

They seem to have life pretty easy. No worries about money, rent, food, or just general worries about survival. To Percy it just seemed like they had to worry about was what kind of cologne would suit their evening social gathering.

Well, it's not like Percy didn't know about that kind of life at all.

He distinctly recalls a man, whose eyes he sees every day reflected back to him, in a pinstripe suit. As a high-class businessman, he never particularly had time for his family as he was constantly busy taking care of things. The company needed his constant attention. But that didn't excuse the neglect.

Each birthday was met with either a phone call or a multipurpose card from the company signed by his truly. The only memories that Percy had of Poseidon were of when he was younger, when his father hadn't inherited the family company from his grandfather. After that, Poseidon changed drastically to from a family-oriented man to something Percy didn't really recognize him much anymore. He didn't even like him that much to say that least.

While he preferred his mother out of the two, she had her faults. Morally speaking, she was fine. She was always there for Percy. However, Percy felt as if Poseidon was always first in her book. She never bothered to stop him when Poseidon called him a plethora of names, never confronted him about missed special days, thus never stood up for Percy when he needed her to the most. She hung on every word his father said and worshipped him like he was some sort of god. While she never directly neglected him like Poseidon had, the polarized love and favoritism Sally showed hurt Percy emotionally.

As for each other... Percy knew they loved each other. But it was toxic. Poseidon would leave for months at a time on business trips. Percy sometimes doubted they were actually just business trips. Sally couldn't function without him. She would wake up past noon from being depressed. She'd barely say a word at some times. At night he would get up to drink some water and hear her cry through her bedroom door.

The taller Percy grew, the more hatred for his father he seemed capable to have. Percy subsequently became rebellious against the both of them for their faults, and Poseidon's manipulations and lies to Sally had started to be nurtured. "It's all to protect your upset Mother," Poseidon would excuse. Poseidon was obviously misunderstanding that he was the reason for Sally's lamentations and polar moods, but he was either too self-centered or stupid to see this. Either or, Percy despised Poseidon more than he thought capable.

Sally was right. He hasn't seen both of them since he was a legal adult and that was four years ago. He threw away everything he had: a nice life, a great deal of money, and some friends. In exchange he gained the life he has now: survival, the lack of a savings account, and month-to-month rent.

Legally since he isn't considered financially emancipated from his father because of his age, colleges would offer no aid for any college he would apply to. On paper, he was one of the richest bachelors to roam Midtown Manhattan. In reality, he was no better than the homeless guys that he played chess against at Washington Square Park. Eventually he gave up and never went at all. Instead, he spends his time at libraries to feel like he is pursuing whatever dreams he'll try to convince himself he still has.

Each day he wakes up wishing he never had. But he drags his sorry ass to work each day, doing deliveries for Joe to alcohol stores, bodegas, markets in Chinatown, and supermarkets around the island just to continue the charade of survival. It took up a majority of his morning and maybe a half of a pack of cigarettes to get through it.

On the up side, working for Silas was a sort of getaway for him. The man always had something interesting to talk about either from his own classes or his own mind. He recommended books to Percy which started his trips to the NYU library so he could keep up. Silas is also a religious man, so his ideals and the way he thought about some things intrigued Percy. He managed to bring bits of light into Percy's world for the time being.

How much he would have to keep this up, he didn't know. Percy never felt as if he would ever grow old either because his future was so muddled. He wonders if he'll ever lead a normal life without the help of his dreaded father's wealth. He was always so busy, always so tired. He wishes someone would give him a break.

Speaking of tired, he has to get up now if he doesn't want to be late to Joe's.

;;;

"Tired?"

Percy nodded with his head on the counter by the register. He didn't utter a word. The phone call from last night had drained him with memories of his father (or should he say lack thereof?). The deliveries dragged on for what seemed like a long time, but he managed to actually get them done early. He came to Silas' straight after and he's been in this position ever since, only moving from the cash register for Silas to operate for occasional customers.

Percy heard a loud pop! of a soda can and looked over to where the source of the sound was. Silas had a Red Bull in his hand which he places over to where Percy's elbow was propped up on the counter. Percy takes it gratefully and manages a sip. "Thank." he says bleakly.

"Why in the hell are you so dead today?"

Percy wasn't sure if he wanted to be honest with Silas, as he didn't really know his past or his situation with his parents. It wasn't something that Percy necessarily blasted to everyone he saw. He decides to lie like every time, reciting perfectly, "I just couldn't sleep. I got caught up in a movie review and ended up watching the movie."

"That's definitely a hobby you should abandon at nighttime. You have time after my shift that you could do for that."

"Yeah but movies are better at nighttime."

"You're not wrong. What do you usually do after my shift then?"

"Well, I did have that grocery job for a while, if you remember," Percy said. Silas nodded. "But Joe increased my wages enough for it to cover it. So I quit and now I just go to the library."

"Oh that reminds me," Silas reached over to his bag and took out a paperback book. It was maybe an inch thick. "This is a collection of essays we are doing an analysis on in one of my classes and I think you'll find some of them interesting. I have some dog-eared for you but I'll tell you the exact pages if you get a copy from the library. I want to know what you think after you're done."

"Bet, can you write the title down for me on my phone?" Percy passes over his device and Silas accepts it, typing away on the screen on his notepad app and passing it over when he was done. "Thanks."

"There's no author since it's a collection, so you'll have to tell them the publication if they don't know it by title. I put it down there for you. Also, can you hold shop for a bit? I've got to get some tools to fix the cooler."

"You got it." Percy stared at the title and publication that Silas typed down on his phone. "Don't bother coming back my shift with you starts in an hour."

"Oh," Silas looked at his watch. "You're right. But I do need to fix the cooler so I'll come back mid shift."

"Sounds good."

;;;

Holding down the bodega was like every other day. Restock the little shelves when needed, refill the tuna container, and make sure the coffee pots are filled. Make sure he doesn't mix decaf and regular. As the last time he worked, the customers were an influx of NYU students either in a hurry or with enough time to sit on the outside table. His two years working here were the most mellow and peaceful next to his time reading alone. Some of the students would make conversation with him as he made their food and poured their coffees, so the time passed by faster than the time spent doing deliveries. He'd even made friends with the regulars.

It was the only time Percy truly forgot where he came from and who his family was. Even reading his surplus of books and solving advanced physics problems didn't do that.

Although he usually sees the same people every day, sometimes he gets new ones. There was a blonde who was unusually soft spoken that bought gingersnaps and a handful of salsa that caught his attention, but mostly because he thought it was an odd combination of food and an absurd ratio of gingersnaps to salsa. But he didn't say anything and managed to hold down a weird look as he calculated how much it would be for her.

By the time Silas was back and the cooler was fixed, Percy was out the door with a new pack of cigarettes he paid for behind the counter. He decides it would be a good time to go to the library to get that book Silas talked about. Besides being ridiculously tired, it was surprisingly a good and mellow day. He found himself humming to a song he heard on the streets as he dangled a new cigarette in his mouth and scrambled his bag for his lighter.

He fumbled around with finding it because it was hard to find with the dark and a couple of streetlamps, but instead of finding it he was met with a hard vibrations of his phone in his pocket distracting him from his task. He recognized the unsaved number right away and picked up.

"What is it with you two taking turns calling me now, huh? Am I now your favorite son or something?" he spat out, almost dropping the cigarette on the semi-wet pavement. It wasn't really a question.

"Hello, son," Poseidon's voice boomed from the other end. "I called to inform that you need to break the habit of worrying your mother."

"You're shitting me, right?" So Sally took him back within a day. That was typical, Percy wasn't surprised by his mother's lack of persistence. "So she took you back, huh? What did you do this time to get back?"

"Watch your tone with me," Poseidon snapped, which only angered Percy. So much for the mellow day. It turned viciously sour. "I came back to see that your mother was crying. She told me she had called you and that you'd picked up last night."

Picking up Sally's calls were a delicacy in his family. Usually it was because he felt immense guilt for leaving his mother, but now he found himself regretting the fact that he answered her call. He hated seeing his mother cry, and he knew very well it was both of them making her upset. "How self-centered do you have to be to realize it's not me that's the problem? Also, if you really want to play that game of who won 'Who made Sally cry the most', you'd make Michael Phelps look like he drowned in the Olympics."

"I have no idea what you are talking about." his father replies, ignoring his comment. "But I strongly suggest you call her to make amends. She was very upset."

"Look, Poseidon, I know you don't care." Percy ran his free hand through his hair multiple times. "You're just calling me to manipulate me and get on my nerves. And guess what, it's working. Don't call me again. Tell the same to Mom when you see her tonight."

"Your mother-"

"I don't care. Good bye."

He hung up and stared at his phone, and noticed that the cigarette and fallen to the ground. A cigarette wasn't going to quell his anger, nor was he in the mood for a compilation of essays. Percy knew where to go.

Bars weren't usually Percy's scene but it was the only place he'd rather be than stuck up in the library or his fire escape. He needed to be surrounded by a busy atmosphere and lots of noise to drown out Poseidon's lingering and powerful voice in his head.

Poseidon especially made Percy hate life. Although he wanted to drown in drinks because of him, it wasn't like he had a lot of money to spare for it. It had to do with a beer or two. He hated how expensive New York was.

The loud music failed to mask his thoughts of blame towards his neglecting father. The words pretentious asshole kept wandering his head rent-free as he downed his anger with cheap beer. He figured he can just smoke a few less packs of cigarettes this month and downs some shots. The bartender was even kind enough to offer some complimentary ones along with the ones he ordered.

Maybe that's the reason why he didn't remember the guy that started yelling at him or which one of the two threw the first punch. All Percy remembers is that he tried to imagine the face was of his father's as his knuckles started to bleed.

Although the pain screamed his vitality, Percy never feels more dead.