I hated him.

"Does anyone know when Eric's coming home?" Fez asked from the couch in Eric's old spot, arm wrapped around Jackie. I glared at him from my chair and he shot me a confused look.

"Next week." Kelso answered across from me, not looking up from the Rubik's cube he wasn't even close to solving, tongue poking out the side of his mouth in concentration before looking up excitedly. "Oh! We should throw a kegger when he gets back! Jackie, can we go to our old secret makeout spot?"

Jackie made a face. "That was like five years ago, idiot. Someone lives there now, pool's filled in."

"Well, shit!" Kelso replied, tossing the cube on the ground with a loud click. "We gotta do something, though! I won't have Betsey next week, so I'll be free as a bird, man."

"I gotta work at the store." I answered, pressing my head even further against my hand while pretending to be interested in the TV. I could feel Jackie's accusatory stare as she flipped through her magazine.

"You're going to be at the store every hour of every day for a whole week?" She asked, attitude in every word.

"Yeah Hyde, c'mon he's your best friend! You've known him longer than the rest of us. You live with his parents, man, we gotta do something for him!"

I ignored them and kept staring at the TV. I hated Forman. I had just gotten used to my routine of: go to work, get high after work, and not thinking about him, and now, after all that, he was coming back. While the other three talked I squeezed my eyes tightly shut together for a moment behind my shades and tried to move my mind somewhere else. There was so much Forman hadn't been here for, so many times I needed him to be there for me, to be my friend, and he wasn't here.

Wait. No. I didn't need Eric. I didn't need anybody.

"I'm gonna go to my room," I announced, easing myself out of the chair. I couldn't be around them right now, talking about Forman coming back, planning him a surprise party or whatever they were trying to do, "see you kids later." They murmured their goodbyes as I tossed myself on the twin bed I'd gotten so familiar with, picking up the half stubbed-out roach on my bedside table and giving it a light, hoping it'd pick up my spirits a little. But as my head felt heavy, my mind drifted too far, to the way Sam's hair felt next to me on this bed when we slept together at night, to my dad leaving town, to deep hazel eyes.

"Fuck," I muttered to myself. "Fuck." I knew I was being an asshole and I couldn't stop. Sam was my biggest distraction from all of this, and since she left it felt like a part of me left with her, but only the part of me that didn't think about everything that was happening here. The old basement light flickered overhead and I turned up the small stereo I bought from the record store in my room just loud enough to drown out the conversation going on on the other side of the wall. I wish I could've done something to make him stay, then maybe everything with Jackie wouldn't have happened, and then I wouldn't have even met Sam, and maybe I'd have had a chance to be happy, because in that moment, I damn sure wasn't. There wasn't enough weed to smoke, enough beer to drink, enough miles to drive on a dark open road to make me happy anymore. I gotta get out of here. I gotta leave Point Place, go out on my own, stop being reminded every second of all my failures since Eric left. I got out of bed, head still swimming, reaching under the bed for my duffel bag, stuffing what little things I owned into it. I'd miss Kitty and Red. They'd become practically my own parents, and nicer to me than anyone else had ever been, given me a place to stay for years now, and I was forever grateful, but I needed to leave. After waiting awhile until the talking died down and the basement door closed, I tossed my blanket over the bed, looked at my room for the last time, and made my way up the stairs. I figured it was late enough that the rest of the house would be asleep and I could just leave a note, but stopped in my tracks at the sight of Red in the kitchen sipping a beer.

"Where ya going, Steven?"

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. "I was just, uh...I was just gonna take off."

He eyed me suspiciously. "For the night? That's an awful lot of stuff to bring just for one night."

I sighed. "Look, Red,"

He cut me off. "Steven, you're an adult. I can't stop you from doing what you want to do anymore. But you've been living under my roof so I think I have the right to at least say this: stay until Eric gets back. You've been pissed as hell for months about Sam leaving and whatever else, but I know he'd be pretty damn hurt if he came back and you weren't here."

"He'll have Mrs. Forman and the rest of the welcoming committee, he doesn't need me there too."

At that Red sighed and took another sip of his beer. "Fine. Then let me put it this way. You stayed here for four years rent free, I fed you, I clothed you, I overlooked you smoking dope here. You are not gonna make me tell Kitty you up and left in the middle of the night without saying goodbye. Now get your ass back downstairs."

"Mr. Forman, I really appreciate everything you've done for me, but-"

"I'd love nothing more than to have you out of this house, believe me," he said, cutting me off again. "But this isn't a question anymore, get back in the basement. Just for a week. If after Eric comes home and you still want to go, that's fine by me. It's late. Goodnight." Red got up to throw his beer can out, then headed up the stairs to bed, leaving me alone in shadow. My bag all of a sudden felt heavy on my shoulder and I let it drop to the floor with a soft thud. I could still go. I was so close to the door, close to escape, I didn't have to listen to him, I was my own man, goddammit, I could still leave. I stood there silently for a moment, before picking my bag back up and going back to the basement. Just for a week. Only a week.