Viva La Gloria II: 21st Century Breakdown

Billie glare down at me like I was his greatest enemy and he finally had the honor of decapitating me. I leaned back slightly from his acidy glare. I've never seen anything like it. Especially nor from him. Not from the sprinkler incident, throwing him in the river, his sex talk this morning. Kidnapping him, slapping him, or any other ways I've ever pissed him off, but touching his book seemed to set this off, I was too scared to be amused.
I shrinked back against the couch. Shivering away from his glare of Hades. Why was he so pissed? It's a damn book!
“Don't touch my book.” he growled through clenched teeth, and I thought I was really in for it.
“Why?” I pressed him.
“Because you can't.” he narrowed his eyes.
“Well I want to know why.”
“Just get over it damn it.”
“No.” I said leaning in. He would not have this level of pressure over me.
He combed his hands through his mop before leaning over me again and a growl stirred in his chest.
“I don't need to tell a twenty five year old not to touch something. I do not need to explain it.”
He paused then I took his chance to speak “Well whatever the hell just crawled up your ass and died, you'd better fix it because your attitude stinking.” I stood up, forcing him to back up. I walked down the hall to my room. Shutting the door and locking it. I leaned against it before I went to my desk and picked up my paintbrush and went to work. The fresh of emotions swirled in my head forcing me to preserver. It seems I paint on it Everytime something pisses me off or I fret. I stayed in there for three hours before I reared my head again. I'd forgotten to pick up that package while I'd been on main street. So I'm going now and leaving them behind, except for maybe Tré...
I walked out into the living room like nothing had happened. They glanced up at me, except for the broad exception- Billie. It took all his energy not to look up and keep his eyes firmly locked on a sheet of paper with music notes laid out in an order.
I went out the door, and this time no one followed. I drove away from the house, they were really getting on my nerves. But then again I suppose I was getting on theirs too.

I arrived at the post office in five minutes. I walked up the beige stone steps. Lined with two large hedges before you walk through the double doors. Inside was high peaked ceiling with sky lights. A long oak counter divided the long room and sat on top on white tile floor. 
There were line of people to the desk. So I caught up with the end of the line and waited. Stumbling along behind the others. My mind wandered back to Billie again. He was angry with me for his book. And I hadn't exactly ended the conversation the best. I grimaced and stared down at the floor.
I stumbled down the steps again. The big box swung in front of me blinding me. I got to my car and set it in the backseat. Climbed in and started the engine. And backed out and headed home. 
I took my sweet time coming home. Parked my car in the lot for a long moment, before deciding I didn't want to go inside. I climbed out and headed across the fairly crowded camp grounds, filled with an RV, two campers and three tents. I mazes around them. Different than what I would have done if they weren't in the way.
The river was oddly like an open door to freedom. I approached the bridge. The small green tinted stream that flowed beneath would regroup with the rest of the river up ahead. I followed the trail witch forked off to the right or forward. The path ahead is covered in dense foliage from two aspens.
Then once you get out of their barrier, the small beach spread out mostly hogged by thick cattails and spur grass.              
I broke out of the alter of leaves, flowers and water salvage spread across the beach. I breathed a sigh of relief to be here again. Even if I had only a few days ago. No matter the amount of time, I always miss it, think about it— like Billie. 
I climbed across some logs that led away from the beach up a secret path. I leaped over a little stream and climbed around more cattails to my thinking log. Huge, it sprawled out wildly. I climbed up it and sat near it's sun bleached roots. I forced myself to look up at the rushing river in front of me. When I'm here I never really feel like I ever grew up any from 1996. When I was ten and life seemed like it could never get better. I loved those times. Now I'm trapped living in them at a different time and age.
My mind wondered to my problems. To prove a point to myself I thought about Billie. Why would he be so upset about it? Unless he was just as girly as I assume and it's actually a diary. 
I brushed a strand of hair across my face and tucked it behind my ear. I looked down and leaned, gripping the roots for support while I reached for a pretty flower that laid at bay on the edge where the cattails grew. After studying it for a moment, I plucked it and sat back up. Sniffing it before setting it down and taking down my pony tail. Quickly replacing it with a scruffy braid. Then I poked the flower carefully into a crevice  between the neat rows of hair. I looked back to the river, the lighter atmosphere around me had driven me to a final answer. Go apologize. I won't lose him.
Then, almost if on cue, I heard the crunching sound of branches behind me. Certain that I'd been much quieter. The clumsy movement behind me and silent cusses belonged to only one. Even though I always would have thought that he was better on his toes. Maybe in an studio and on stage, but typically I don't think he spends every second of his life traversing sticks and and stones in the river like me.
“Hi.” he muttered. Leaning against the log for support while he used his other hand to scrape away mud muck from the soles of his converse.
He sat down beside me quietly, sneering the goo on his hand onto the log when he thought I couldn't see.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I didn't look at him. Still uncertain if he was mad at me for some reason. I watched the way the sunlight glistened on the grey water. The way the sand glittered with shimmery rocks and a small tide lightly washed the edge of the beach. He remained utterly quiet. I started back pedaling for my apology I'd been planning. And if that's why he is here, to obtain his apology, he is really self centered.
“I'm sorry.” he whispered. Looking in the same direction with every drop of emotion of honesty dripped from his features in a genuine expression. But he still refused to meet my eyes.
I sat in disbelief and did my best to make sure that my body language wasn't giving it away. He had stolen my words and beaten me to the punch.
“I know that you are avoiding the others because of me. I behaved poorly and I am very sorry.” he finally dropped his eyes to my face. Which still didn't face his.
I swallowed and kept my dignity as I turned to face him. He looked as genuine as you can get when you give an apology. 
I took in another deep breath before I spoke “It's fine, you don't need to apologize. It's my fault.” I said guiltily.
He shook his head. A faint smile on his lips.
“No it's not.”
“Yes it is.” I insisted
“Nope.”
“Yes!”
“No!”
I broke out laughing and fell into a hug with him. My arms flopped limply around his waist while the laughs continued to escape.
He excepted the hug. Laughing a few laughs of his own.
I looked up smiling. Why oh why is he of all people the best apologizer I've ever met?
There was no awkward void between us when the laughter ended. We just watched the water. And when I had finally coaxed him to take off his shoes, we dipped our feet in the thin stream. Making it's way back to the rest of the Platte River.
Then his brow furrowed and he looked down at the woodland ground beneath us before he spoke.
“Why...” he hesitated, not meeting my eyes. “do you act so, depressed sometimes? Then you run back here to the river like... Like you're suppressing, something.” he kept his eyes down and his question had caught me off guard.
I looked down. Hoping for an answer “Well, do you really want to know?” I asked softly. Looking up at him.
He thought for a moment then nodded, “Yeah, I really do,”
“It's a long story.” I pressed.
“I've got time, after all, I'm only 36.” 
I had to laugh.
I let out a long gust of air. Trying to get back to the beginning.
“Well in the early months of winter, 1995, my sister had regrouped with her long lost love. She asked him if he would be interested in coming out to spend a few weeks with her, under the heavy chaperoning of my parents.” I laughed darkly.
“He agreed, procrastinated for months, then finally made arrangements to come out early fall, mid October, 1996.
When he came out, then me, my sister both shared the same room. We were really tight and I felt it was my duty to protect her. And I was only like ten, she was six years in difference. I had already met him from our younger social years. So he checked out alright.”
Billie nodded slowly in agreement.
“He came out to my parents house and lived with us for about two weeks. But during that first one, was when my life truly began.”