Original A/N: This chapter really got me as far as being really hard to get what I wanted out of it. It's been in my mind since chapter 3 and I really hope you guys get what I wanted you to... it should fill in a lot of holes in the story for you. This is a Hyde-centric chapter, but I think you will appreciate it! Try to listen to the songs on YouTube where I have listed the lyrics, especially if you have never heard them, they really help tell the story.
Special Thanks to LuvCali and ZenKindofLove for helping me wrap my head around this!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from That 70's Show... yet, the people who did screwed them up and left them for loyal fans like me to fix them. I also don't own any song lyrics.
Rated T: Some very dirty language (Hyde is in this story)
The Masquerade of Indifference
Chapter Six
Tuesday, January 1, 1980 - 1:22 pm
Fez and Jackie's Apartment - Jackie's Room
After driving back to her apartment, Jackie had poured herself a large glass of Chardonnay to take with her to her bedroom. Fez was nowhere to be seen, but his bedroom door was closed so Jackie assumed he was taking a nap. Walking into her darkened bedroom, she placed her glass on her nightstand and sat down on her bed to remove her boots. She reached over to turn on the radio before laying down only to realize that it was still laying on the floor in the corner. She got up and walked over to the ominous pile of evidence from her night with Fez. Reaching down and grabbing both the pillow and last night's party outfit, she threw them into the laundry basket next to her closet.
Picking up the clock radio from it's resting place on the floor she walked back to her bedside table, set it down, and plugged it in. She sat down on her bed again as "Hopelessly Devoted to You" by Olivia Newton-John filled her otherwise empty room.
But, baby, can't you see
There's nothing else for me to do?
I'm hopelessly devoted to you
Sitting in bed and sipping her wine in the dark with the melancholy music playing, her mind drifted back to the events of the morning. Her thoughts mostly resting on the contrast between Steven's actions and the feelings that were lain out for her in the letter that she was never supposed to read. Her reaction to the words that she had read was bugging her; it wasn't as if she was pining for him or anything... right? So why did the fact that he could write all those things down but not tell her to her face break her heart all over again? She shook her head at herself and emptied her wineglass.
But now there's nowhere to hide
Since you pushed my love aside
I'm out of my head
Hopelessly devoted to you
Hopelessly devoted to you
Hopelessly devoted to you
Placing her drained glass on the nightstand, she laid her head on her pillow and rolled onto her left side, staring at the wall on the opposite side of her room. Why does she still care? After all he's put her through, why couldn't she just hate him? Any normal person would. She held her hand in front of her mouth as she stifled a yawn. Most of all, why did she let him see her cry? She had sworn to herself that she would never give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry, and today she had broken that promise.
My head is saying, "Fool, forget him."
My heart is saying, "Don't let go.
Hold on till the end."
And that's what I intend to do
I'm hopelessly devoted to you
Jackie pulled the covers tightly around her body suddenly feeling incredibly cold. I must be the dumbest person in the world to still love a man who tried his best to make me hate him. Her eyes bugged wide open in the dark. Love? Where the hell did that come from? She tucked her left hand under her pillow and tightened her right arm around her repaired Fluffycakes as she felt her eyes start to drift closed.
But now there's nowhere to hide
Since you pushed my love aside
I'm out of my head
Hopelessly devoted to you
Hopelessly devoted to you
Hopelessly devoted to you
Her last thought as she finally drifted off to sleep frightened her more than she thought anything ever could. No matter how impossible it seems, I'm still in love with Steven... and I am so screwed.
While Jackie had finally drifted off to sleep, the radio still played on, getting the final word as the next song began: "Solitaire" by the Carpenters.
Tuesday, January 1, 1980 – 1:32 pm
Forman Basement - Hyde's Room
Hyde used his left fist to hit the dresser next to his bed; sleeplessness just seemed to be in the cards for him today and he had just given up trying to change that. He sat up and pulled the switch on the lamp above him. His head was still sore, but he needed to get rid of the silence in his room that had been plaguing him, so he turned on the radio. When the rock song blaring from the speakers managed get on his nerves instead of quieting them, he changed the station. The radio dial landed on a channel that was, actually, one of Jackie's favorites. The considerably softer music started filling the room, saving him from the silence.
There was a man, a lonely man,
who lost his love through his indifference.
A heart that kept, that went unchecked,
until it died within his silence.
When the music coming from the speakers didn't completely kill his head, he decided to leave it on the slow Carpenters song that was playing. "Solitaire," how appropriate is that? If anyone caught him listening to this crap, he would have to bury them in the backyard. He laid back towards his pillow and crossed his arms behind his head, cradling his it in his palms against the pillow.
And Solitaire's the only game in town,
and every road that takes him down.
And by himself, it's easy to pretend,
he'll never love again.
His eyes were glued to the ceiling as he listened to the lyrics of the song, amazed that he was actually paying attention to it and identifying with the words. Feeling unnerved at this display of girlish tendencies, he cleared his throat and sat up again, pulling open one of the drawers on his nightstand.
And keeping to himself he plays the game,
without her love it always ends the same.
While life goes on around him everywhere,
he's playing Solitaire.
Reaching inside the drawer, he pulled out the tin on top and opened it. Yeah, time for an emergency solo circle... that way I have an excuse for listening to this terrible music. He removed the lid and grabbed a pre-rolled joint and his lighter, closing the container and putting the tin on his bed next to his knee.
A little hope goes up in smoke,
just how it goes, goes without saying.
There was a man, a lonely man,
who would command the hand he's playing.
He held the joint between his left thumb and pointer finger and lit it with the lighter from his right hand. Inhaling and then holding the smoke for a few seconds before needing to breathe, he released it slowly. Taking his next breath he paused slightly to contemplate the lyrics of the song and just how close to home they landed.
And Solitaire's the only game in town,
and every road that takes him down.
And by himself, it's easy to pretend,
he'll never love again
He had drawn his legs up and was now sitting Indian-style on his bed. He took another long puff, silently begging the song to end and for a better one to start. He didn't know how much longer he could listen without admitting that the song was hitting him hard.
And keeping to himself he plays the game,
without her love it always ends the same.
While life goes on around him everywhere,
he's playing Solitaire.
He looked back down at the tin sitting on the bed next to his right knee, thinking about the day that he had put it into that drawer. It was the day that he'd had his first solo circle since he lived with his parents. The day that he decided that a solo circle wouldn't be so bad... if it helped him keep his sanity. One final drag of the sweet smoke and he came to the conclusion that he better put it out before he got too carried away.
And Solitaire's the only game in town,
and every road that takes him down.
While life goes on around him everywhere,
he's playing solitaire.
Removing the lid to the tin, he stubbed out the remainder of his circle stash and threw both the lighter and joint into the tin, replacing the lid. Placing the tin back into the still-open drawer, his hand brushed the letter in the bottom of the drawer as the next song started to play on the radio. Almost as if the action had conjured those particular notes to play. Oh fuck me...
She's out of my life
She's out of my life
As he recognized the very familiar Michael Jackson song, he decided that thinking about the day the tin and the letter were put into that drawer was going to be inevitable. It wasn't the first time his radio had broadcast this station...
- A Few Weeks Earlier -
Hyde had stormed into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him, and walked over his radio turning it on. He was so livid, he hadn't realized that he had accidentally turned the tuning knob to Top 40 station instead of his normal rock station. He didn't care right now; he just needed something to listen to. He needed to get his mind off of what had just happened in the driveway.
She's out of my life
She's out of my life
"She has feelings for FEZ?!" He was yelling, his zen forgotten momentarily, asking his empty room a question that it couldn't answer. "And why in HELL DO I CARE?!" He needed to throw something; he sat down on his cot, removed one of his boots and threw it across the room. When that didn't quite help, he did the same with the boot from the other foot. That makes me feel a little better. He pulled his newest baggie out of his pocket, reached into the drawer next to his cot for a rolling paper, thinking to himself, But this'll make me feel a lot better.
It had been forever since he had felt that an occasion called for a solo circle. As he puffed deeply he started to listen to the words of the song on the radio.
And I don't know whether to laugh or cry
I don't know whether to live or die
And it cuts like a knife
She's out of my life
Letting the words sing in, he thought back on the afternoon's events and the reason why he was sitting here, smoking weed, all by himself. He couldn't help thinking about how Jackie's moved on. His emotional reaction to that startled him and he shook his head, disgusted with himself and wondering why the fuck didn't he feel like this when Sam left. He tore the fingers of his left hand roughly through his hair. He shouldn't care enough about Jackie to let this upset him. He took another drag on the joint in his right hand.
It's out of my hands
It's out of my hands
He glanced over at the nightstand that the drawer was attached to and saw the pen, envelope and pad of paper that were sitting there. Remembering briefly how they'd gotten there and what they'd been for.
To think for two years she was here
And I took her for granted
I was so cavalier
Now the way that it stands
She's out of my hands
Mrs. Forman had suggested that he write a letter to Sam after she left to tell her how he was feeling about her departure. She had insisted that it would make him feel better, even if it didn't send it to her... that it would help him to get over her if he let it all out. The problem was that Sam leaving didn't upset him... it was Jackie caring about someone else did. He stubbed the joint out in his ashtray and put it on top of the nightstand, grabbing the notebook and pen.
So I've learned that love's not possession
And I've learned that love won't wait
Now I've learned that love needs expression
But I've learned much too late
Never one who could express his feelings with words, he found it surprisingly easy to write the letter. Even though he wasn't sure he wanted to know what his thoughts were on Jackie and Fez, Hyde began to write; about them, about Chicago, about Sam. He used the end of the pen to scratch his head, then put it back to the paper to finish off the note that Jackie would never read.
And she's out of my life
She's out of my life
Quickly reading over the letter, he dropped the pen and reached for the envelope still sitting on the nightstand. He gently folded the letter, stuffed it inside the envelope, and wrote Jackie on the outside, closing it. He quickly decided that Mrs. Forman was wrong; he in no way felt any better. He grabbed the pen from where it had been discarded on his bed and threw it across the room as hard as he could. In fact, writing everything down made him even more pissed off... because he knew he had royally screwed up this time. He acted like he didn't care about her and now she didn't care about him anymore. He put his head in hands, still clutching the letter.
Damned indecision
And cursed pride
Kept my love for her
Locked deep inside
Hyde placed the letter in the bottom of the top drawer in the nightstand, on top of the picture of Jackie that he already kept there, and stood up. He walked over to the boxes the Forman's still stored in his room and rooted around in a box of kitchen stuff. When he found a beat up old tin, he brought it over to his bed with him, removed the lid and placed the solo circle paraphernalia into it. Putting the lid on top of the container, he placed the tin on top of the letter in the drawer and closed it.
And it cuts like a knife
She's out of my life
As he placed the notepad and pen back on top of the nightstand, he reached up and turned the lamp off, crawling into bed as the song ended.
- Present -
And it cuts like a knife
She's out of my life
Shaking himself out of his reverie as the song ended, he reached over and shut off the radio. If I hear anymore sappy songs today, I may kill myself. He stuck his hand into the still open nightstand drawer and pulled Jackie's letter out, then closed the drawer. Taking the letter from it's envelope for what felt like the millionth time, he opened it to read his words again... even though he had memorized every letter on the page.
After staring at the letter long enough to recite it in his head, he noticed that something was a little off about the worn piece of paper in his hand. Sure, it was dirty and fading from all the times that he had held it, not believing that he wrote it without even knowing he felt that way. That much damage was expected, but he didn't remember ever crying over the letter in his hands... and there was a tear, right there, smudging the words "damn fault" together. His brow furrowed, and his lips pursed together.
He would definitely remember crying; he'd never been that stoned when reading it.
Suddenly, his mind flashed back to earlier today... and the fact that Jackie had spent an hour and a half in his room, and that at least 20 minutes of it she was alone. His eyes widened. It's not possible... Wasn't she too upset over Fez breaking up with her to go through his stuff? At least that was the way it had appeared.
He remembered how long it had been before they'd heard her sob through his bedroom walls and the tear that ran down her cheek when he had burned her before she left. She hasn't cried over a burn since their famous lack of a break-up. Why would she cry now?
He ran his fingers over the tear stain and a shocked look racked his facial features; if he wasn't imagining things, then it was still damp. He let the letter drift down to land on the bed. Was that cry he'd heard her reaction to the letter? Why would she act that way? Shit. He reached his leg out and kicked hard at the wall at the end of the bed. Shit.
He swung his legs over the side of the cot and reached for the boots that he had kicked off earlier, tugging them on fiercely. She was crying... about me... and I burned her. Fuck... He stomped the floor with his right foot. I'm such an asshole! He smacked himself in the forehead, stopping his inner tirade, and his brain reminded him that he couldn't be sure she had read it... and there was only one person she would tell if she had. He would have to talk to Donna and not let her suspect anything. How the fuck am was he gonna pull that off?
He shook his head. I'm not. I'm gonna have to tell her. He threw his arms up in the air and then back down at his sides. "SHIT!"
He picked the letter up off of the bed, shoved it into it's envelope, and opened the drawer to put it inside. His eyes caught a glimpse of Jackie's picture sticking out from underneath the tin. Shit... did she see that too? He lifted the tin slightly to put the letter under it then closed the drawer. He stood up, his fists clenched at his sides, and steeled himself for his trip over to Donna's.
He grabbed his sunglasses and placed them on his face while walking towards the exit to his room. Donna was not going to be happy to see him...
Tuesday, January 1, 1980 – 2:08 pm
Pinciotti Kitchen
Donna was sitting in her Dad's kitchen at the table, drinking a can of soda, and she couldn't believe her eyes. Hyde was standing in across from her, trying to look like he belonged there. What the hell was he doing there? She slammed the can down on the table. What about the catalog to the head said, "I would love for you to come over and hang out later?"
She stood up and clenched her fists at her sides, glaring at him. "What the hell do you want?" She flung her arms out, displaying the empty kitchen. "Jackie isn't here for you to torture."
He had sort of expected her to react this way. He crossed his arms over his chest protectively, just in case she decided to get violent again. "I'm not looking for Jackie. I needed to talk to you about something... about her."
Donna narrowed her eyes at her friend. "Why the hell would I talk to you about Jackie? All you ever wanna do is burn her!" She was still pissed at both of them for the way that they had treated Jackie and she wasn't about to let him off the hook. "You don't get to ask about her!" She crossed the kitchen in two steps and slapped him across the face hissing "Asshole!" as he just stood there and took it. His face was unchanged and he was staring at her... so she slapped him again.
The left side of his face burning, Hyde finally got up the nerve to speak. He caught her wrist in his left hand. "Ya done? If not, go ahead and get it outta your system." He let go of her arm and walked over to her kitchen table, sitting down in the chair she had vacated. "I deserve it." He said, with his eyes glued to the table.
She was speechless; Hyde had let her slap him, twice, and had practically begged for a third. What the hell had gotten into him? "Fuck, yeah, you deserve it." She walked over to the table and looked down at him. "You've been nothing but an ass to her since Sam showed up... who says I'm gonna tell you anything?" She resisted the urge to smack him again, even though the person she really wanted to slap was herself. "Huh? What makes you so sure I will?" Donna heard him sigh, even though it wasn't that loud, and waited for his response to her tangent.
He kicked out the chair across from him at the table for her to sit in. She seemed to get the hint, because she walked over and sat down in it, placing her arms on the table. He'd gotten himself into this and talking to Donna was the only way to find out what Jackie knew. Removing his sunglasses, he took a deep breath before saying, "Because I need to know if she found out that I still care." He looked up at Donna and her jaw was just about touching the table.
She wanted to reach across and strangle him, but something in his eyes told her that he was serious. Better act pissed just in case. "You WHAT? What the hell are you talking about Hyde?" She saw his face soften and she didn't know how, but she knew that he was telling the truth. Maybe it was the eyes.
He put his glasses back over his eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat. "So, she either didn't find it or she didn't tell you." He pushed the chair back and got up, walking toward the door to the kitchen before Donna grabbed his left shoulder.
"If you think you're walking out of here without an explanation, you have another thing coming, Hyde." He turned around to face her and she let her hand fall back to her side. "What are you saying?"
He looked down at his feet to avoid eye-contact. "You know what..." He looked back up at her, at the flabbergasted look on her normally know-it-all face, and even though he knew he didn't have to explain he whispered it anyway: "I still love her, man."
If it was possible to look more shocked, Donna had found a way, so he explained himself knowing she wouldn't interrupt. "When she was in my room earlier, she might've found a letter I wrote her and never sent. I checked to see if it was still there and I saw tear-stains on it..." She was still staring at him like she had never seen him before. "I just need you to find out if she found it... and don't keep your mouth shut if she didn't."
He turned from her and walked out the door, leaving Donna standing in the kitchen. "WHAT?!" Yelling at the empty kitchen, she made a decision. I have to talk to her right now. She made her way to her room and grabbed her purse, then stormed out the door to her dad's car.
Opening the door and climbing in, she raced off in the direction of Jackie's apartment.
Hyde watched from the Forman yard as Donna sped away and knew that he was screwed no matter what. He shook his head to himself and walked toward the basement stairs.
Maybe NOW he could get some sleep! He let out a wry chuckle as he walked into his darkened room and collapsed on the bed. Yeah, right.
A/N: Well? Did you like it? Did I totally screw up by having him confess to Donna? Did you hate my song choices? TELL ME, DAMN IT! I'm just kidding... Please review!
Additional Disclaimer: The Donna slaps in this chapter are were and always will be dedicated to Caspar1990, who said that a girl would never lay a mean hand on Danny. (You didn't think I would forget that, did you?)