Dead Stars

March 13th - California, U.S.A

When we landed in California, we were too excited to feel exhausted from the flight. Normal people would grab their luggage and go straight to their hotel or wherever they were staying and drop off their things, but we aren't normal, are we?

Instead of going to the apartment you had rented for us, we went straight to Hollywood Boulevard. As soon as we got out of the airport, we grabbed a cab and just went for it. We weren't really thinking straight because as I'm writing this right now, I am extremely exhausted, but I don't regret what we did today. I had lots of fun.

When we got to Hollywood Boulevard we walked through the walk of fame and with your camera, we took some pictures. We went to Madame Tussaud's wax museum, Ripley's Believe It or Not's odditorium, and the Hollywood museum. We literally went around with our suitcases and backpacks that were a whole lot bigger than normal.

You love museums. It fascinates you a lot. I've lost count of all the museums we have been to. I can tell you've been doing your research because in the museums we went to today, you seemed to know a lot about it. We'd look at a certain photo or painting or statue and you would just talk about it and explain it to me. I wasn't really paying attention to anything you were saying, but I loved listening to you talk.

It was after we visited the last museum that we started to feel really tired. You got us a cab and asked the driver to take us to target. I asked you what for and you answered, "We need food, drinks, and some bathroom stuff, don't we?"

I just smiled at you. "Right."

We went around Target the way we would go around the groceries in Ireland and Manchester. I would sit inside the pushcart while you pushed me around and filled up the cart with lots of junk food, sodas, ice cream, and some stuff we needed.

I pointed to the Butterfinger in the chocolate section, "Niall, get the Butterfinger."

"No." You said.

I frowned, "Why not?"

"Because we've already got you lots of other junk food and sweets." You tell me with a small smile. "It will be harder to travel with you if you are a billion pounds."

"Oh hush up and get me the Butterfinger." I tell you, smacking your arm. "Besides, you got way more food than I did. You're the one who's going to be a billion pounds when we start our roadtrip."

You crossed your arms, pretending to be offended, and said, "I'm not getting you the Butterfinger."

"Niall!" I groaned. You're so stubborn sometimes.

You grabbed all the bags of Butterfinger on the shelf and ran away. I got out of the cart and chased after you. We probably looked like the most ridiculous people in Target at that time- two Irish dorks running around with bags of Butterfinger and laughing way, way too loud.

You finally gave up, out of breath, and handed me the bags of Butterfinger. I smirked triumphantly while you held your chest trying to catch your breath from all the running and the laughing. "Okay, fine. You win. You win the Butterfingers."

"For that," I tell you, also out of breath, "You're getting me two more bags."

You smiled and shook your head. You put your arm around me as we walked back to the cart, "I'd get you all the Butterfinger bags in the world, P. I wouldn't care if all your teeth would fall out and decay or the only way to get you around is to roll you. For as long as you're happy, I am too."

"You cheesy piece of shit." I told you, which you smiled.

We continued doing our grocery shopping, which took another hour and in that hour, the amount of banter, laughs, and little arguments we had. We fought over which laundry detergent smell we like better or which dip we should get with our chips, which in the end we decided to get both.