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If I Told You I Loved You, How Far Would You Run?

Northern Downpour Sends Its Love

It’s raining as I walk to Patrick’s house with a box of snicker-doodle cookies in my hands, thinking maybe I’ll give them to Ryan as a “Get Better Soon!” gift.

“Oh! Brendon!” Patrick exclaims in surprise when he answers the door. “What you doing here?”

“I come bearing cookies for Ryan,” I say brightly, holding up the box.

Patrick smiles warmly at me and opens his mouth to say something when—

“Patrick! Who is it?” A woman, I’m guessing his mother, calls from inside the house.

“It’s Brendon!” Patrick calls back, welcoming me inside.

There’s a pause and then his mother asks: “Who’s Brendon?”

Patrick gives me a rueful. “Sorry, she doesn’t have a good memory,” he apologizes before calling over his shoulder: “He’s a friend of Ryan’s and mine.”

“Oh,” his mother replies and I catch a glimpse of a thin and frail looking lady hovering in the kitchen. “Well, you boys have fun.”

“Okay, Mom, we will,” Patrick says and leads me upstairs, halting outside one the doors. “Now, I have to warn you that Ryan’s been pretty feverish for a while and there’s a good chance he’s still contagious. Are you still sure you want to—”

I cut him off with: “Patrick. It’s Ryan. Of course I want to go in.”

Patrick smiles at me. “Yeah, I probably could’ve guessed,” he says and opens the door. “Go on in. I’ll, uh, I’ll wait outside.”

“’Kay, thanks, Patrick.”

I walk into the room. It’s a small room, but everything about it overflows with love and comfort and the feeling of a real home. Sea green curtains are tied back from windows on the far wall; the dresser has photographs and knick-knacks on the top; a few paintings, clearly drawn by children, decorate the walls; a lamp sits on the bedside table.

But the real centerpiece of the room is the quilt-covered twin-sized bed up against one wall with Ryan lying in it.

“B-Brendon?” he croaks out, trying to prop himself, and my heart goes out to him because he looks so incredibly sick.

“Hey, Ryro,” I say, sitting down on the foot of his bed. “I baked you cookies.”

He cracks a grin but his eyes still look pained. “What type?” he asks.

“Snicker-doodle,” I say, setting the box down the bedside table. “In honor of … well, you know.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I know.”

Our first kiss.

We sit there quietly and then—

“Sing something for me,” Ryan asks, catching me by surprise.

“What? Um, okay. I … what do you want me to sing?”

He extends a skeletal finger to point a piece of paper sitting on the table. I reach over to grab it and I’m surprised to see lyrics scrawled across the page, complete with a time signature, notes, and rests. I look at Ryan and he smiles at me.

My voice starts out shaky but grows more certain as I sing Ryan’s words:

“If all our life is but a dream
Fantastic posing greed
Then we should feed our jewelry to the sea
For diamonds do appear to be
Just like broken glass to me
And then she said she can’t believe
That genius only comes along
In storms of fabled foreign tongues
Tripping eyes and flooding lungs
Northern downpour sends its love

Hey moon, please forget to fall down
Hey moon, don’t you fall down.”


Ryan’s eyes flutter closed and his hand reaches out to take a hold of mine.

“Northern downpour sends its love,” I sing again, and then I add: “I love you.”

“I know,” he whispers, and I blush because I was certain he had been asleep.

He’s opening his mouth to say something, perhaps “I love you too,” a part of me hopes, when a fanatic scream from downstairs pierces the warm atmosphere in the room.
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We see a little bit more of Patrick; he's really a sweet guy. I also updated the character section, so check that out if you'd like.

Ryan's words / Brendon's singing from Northern Downpour (Panic at the Disco), one of my favorite songs of theirs. <3

Title--Northern Downpour (Panic at the Disco)