•————I've Never So Adored You————•

"Give me the disc, dork." Lin extended his hand so that you would hand him the silver disc in your possession. Who knew he was this overprotective about an NSYNC record.

A snort left your lips as you climbed onto his bed, standing out of his reach. "You're the dork, loser."

Lin growled at you--the bed sagged lower as he jumped onto it, tackling his best friend. Your head hit the pillow. You groaned. "Now I have a headache, asshole."

Lin grinned at you and snatched the disc from your grasp, inspecting it for potential scratches, marks, fingerprints, anything he could use against you. Since he couldn't find crap, he helped you sit up, frowning.

"Why the long face?" You grabbed the corners of his lips, lifting them. "And now the frown is upside down." Your hands pulled away from him due to the sweat forming on them. A summer day in Washington Heights and in the nineties where the fans can't work to save a life, it's pretty obvious to why there's so much sweat forming on your bodies.

Lin groaned. "We're gonna be alone forever! You and I are gonna reach forty and still be single." His eyes widened as the invisible light bulb over his head turned on. He grabbed your hands and pulled you closer to him. "How 'bout we make a promise?"

"What kinda promise?"

Your best friend pulled out a pen and notebook, ripping out a random, blank page. He began to write down something.

"Hey, nerd," You snapped your fingers in front of Lin's face, "What kind of promise?"

"One that states that once we turn forty and we're still single, we have to marry each other." He looked up at you and smiled goofily. "It's fool proof Y/N, and then we won't have to die as lonely virgins."

You had to fight the urge of pouncing on Lin, your mind already screaming 'I do' over and over and over again--your eyelids covered your eyes for a second in an attempt to refrain from doing so. "And why would we have to do this?"

"C'mon, Y/N, don't ask questions and sign the contract." He shoved the piece of paper into your hands, bouncing in his seat as a way to cope with having to wait.

You sighed in fake-exasperation and wrote your name on the line drawn for you.

I, Y/N M/N L/N, promise to love, cherish, and hold Lin-Manuel Miranda once we turn forty—if we're both still single—for as long as I shall live. This contract will ensure that I don't back down on the promise or run away from Lin if this contract ever comes to use.

X____________________

You handed Lin the paper, watching as he folded it and tucked it away in his wallet. Your fingers rubbed the bridge of your nose. "You realize that we're only sixteen years old, right?"

"Mhmm."

"God, I'm praying that you marry someone at age thirty-nine." You placed your hands in a desperate praying position, muttering nonsense words to no one in particular. Since you had brought it up before this, you guessed that you were praying to God? You don't really know. And you don't really care either.

Your eyes moved in a circular motion as you stared at the folded contract in Lin's wallet. The two of you made that promise last year, and so far you still have about two decades to find someone and marry them or else you're stuck with each other until you die. Your best friend chuckled as he looked at the paper your eyes were scanning. "I would ask you if you're still up for the promise, but then I remembered that it's obligatory. Ha, ha."

"Shut up, dork." You threw a pillow at him, knocking him off his chair. You let out a hearty laugh. "Nerd." Your hands went back to writing the report for language arts. Lin luckily finished his already, so you won't have the constant nagging of 'what are you writing?' and 'you know what? I'm doing this wrong. Now I need help.'

Lin sat next to you, pulling your body flush to his. His lips planted themselves softly on your brow bone—your eyes fluttered shut.

Lin caressed the side of your face, wiping away a few beads of sweat. "I love you, nerd."

"You are the sappiest doofus I have ever met." Your fist playfully punched his arm, making him pull away from you.

Lin grunted in fecklessness as he stood up, taking a disc from his bedside table and placing it inside the run down stereo.

"When I look into your eyes I can see a love restrained." You chuckled as your brain processed what song was currently playing.

"Mi madre said to ask you what color you're gonna be wearing for the dance." Explained Lin. "I told her that I'd a-"

"What do you mean 'to the dance'? You never asked me."

Lin blushed deeply as he realized that he had indeed forgotten to ask you to the dance. You two always go to these things together, so there's no point in asking, but that doesn't mean you know whether or not you're gonna go. He sighed; his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. "Wanna go to the dance?"

"We always do."

"Well then why'd you make me ask?" Your best friend furrowed his eyebrows at you, placing his hands on his hips. "Does my dignity really mean that little to you?"

You smiled at Lin as you placed a pack of candies on the shelf. "Yup." Your hand began to ache as you handed him his daily coffee. He always comes into the bodega before school starts to 1. Get his coffee and 2. Pick you up so you can walk to the hell hole together.

You jumped across the counter, stepping towards the water shelf. Something stood in front of your right foot--your breath hitched as you tripped. Lin clutched onto your arms while your face pulled away from his chest. Your friend chuckled. "Wow, I didn't know you'd fall for me before we turned forty."

You slapped Lin's chest. "I didn't fall for you, you fucking tripped me."

//////////One Week Later//////////

Luz, Lin's sister, pinched you arm when you moved away from the peculiar looking object. She had put it right over your goddamn eye! How were you not supposed to be startled?!

"Relajate, Y/N," soothed Luz, "It's just an eyelash curler."

You sighed as you rested your back on the chair that had been placed in the bathroom for your convenience. Today's the dance, so Mama Luz--Lin's mom--decided that Lin's sister should give you a makeover. 'Quiero que te veas mas hermosa que antes.'

////////////////////

After a couple burns, pokes, pinches, and whines later, Luz finally put down the hairbrush and wheeled you around to look at yourself. Sure, the dress you bought with your salary from the bodega wasn't very nice, but it looked good enough to match the miracle Luz made: your hair.

For a teenage girl in a very humid area in the nineties--where wild hair seems to be inherited by everyone related to you--your hair looked tame and, dare you say it, perfect.

Luz clapped her hands, taking yours and leading you downstairs. The height of your heels caused you to stumble a bit as you walked down the stairs, the sound of quiet arguing reaching your ears.

"Lin-Manuel," argued Mama Luz, "You need to treat her with respect and chivalry. Como el hombre que tu eres."

You watched as she fumbled with the tie around his neck, tying it with no trouble whatsoever. Lin groaned in exasperation. "I know, Mama, you don't have to remind me every five seconds."

"You know, maybe she does." You held tightly onto the railing of the stairs as you smiled at Lin and his parents. "You might forget to be a gentleman once we get there."

Mama Luz gasped when she saw you, walking towards you with open arms. She hugged your frame. "Mi niña! Eres una hermosura! Isn't she, Luis?"

Her husband engulfed you in his fatherly arms, his breath pushing stray strands of h/c hair from your face. "Yes indeed, tan bonita que estas, mija."

"Gracias, Señor Luis."

The man frowned. "No, don't call me Señor Luis. It makes me sound old! Just 'Luis' is fine."

You nodded, smiling at Señ- Luis. Your eyes drifted off to see Lin staring at you, mouth agape. A giggle escaped your pink-painted lips. "Do I look ok, Lin? Is the dress color fine?" The material of the tie around his neck rubbed against your fingertips. "You know, this tie really fits you. I like the color—oh wait, I picked it out."

Lin's mouth closed, his expression turning from struck to smug. "Even when I'm gonna take you to a dance you're a smart ass."

You snorted as Luis smacked his son upside the head, causing Lin's short hair to stand up. Luz and Luis positioned the two of you in front of the stairs, raising a flash camera to take a picture.

Needless to say, 90% of the pictures consisted of you and Lin laughing your asses off--unable to keep your faces straight.

////////////////////

The cheap lights in the multipurpose room flashed over you and Lin, the frames of people dancing wildly crowding your visison. Your best friend looked over to you as the flashes died down, the lights turning a soft shade of red.

"But darlin' when I hold you, don't you know I feel the same?"

Lin stood up and extended his hand, pulling you off your seat and leading you towards the dance floor. Your bodies fit together like puzzles as you danced to 'November Rain' by Guns N' Roses.

"Nothin' lasts forever and we both know hearts can change."

Lin grinned widely when you rested your head on his shoulder, your bodies swaying to the music playing from the stereo.

"And it's hard to hold a candle in the cold November rain."

The song rang through your ears. The vacant space in Lin's room soon became a dance floor.

       "We've been through this such a long, long time. Just tryin' to kill the pain, ooh yeah."

"But love is always coming and love is always going. And no one's really sure who's letting go today. Walking away."

"If we could take the time to lay it on the line. I could rest my head just knowin' that you were mine. All mine."

"So if you want to love me, then darlin', don't refrain--or I'll just end up walkin' in the cold November rain."

Lin's hands rested on your waist, your arms still around his neck. His body heat transferred to you; the downing sun outside didn't help you cool down. Air coming from Lin's open window blew into the room, leaves from the fire escape blowing inside.

"Lin-Manuel! Y/N! Dinner!" Called Mama Luz from downstairs. Your best friend reluctantly pulled away from you, staring into your e/c eyes with a smile. He knows what's coming. A meal with you and Lin at the table means trouble.

•————I'm Twisting Allegories Now————•

You and Lin didn't get five paces out his room before the smell of Luz's wonderful cooking filled our senses. Lin's mouth begin to leak in hunger for his mom's food. She makes the best empanadas. You two walked as quickly as you could towards the kitchen, sitting down on your regular seats. Everytime you come over for dinner or lunch or breakfast, you always sit next to Lin--he sits in the same spot everyday since he lives here, so technically the chair that is slightly darker than the rest is yours. Each chair has its own distinct feature, for example Luis' chair: the cushion part of the seat has a stain of agua de limon. No one's exactly sure when or how the stain got there, but it happened; you don't question it.

Once you sat down, you realized that you're a guest at this house, ergo you have to help Luz set up the table. Damn, you're so rude--that needs to be fixed. You stood from your chair and walked over to Luz, grabbing four plates and setting them up on the table. Lin groaned when he noticed that you were being an assistant, for he had to help as well. It's not manditory, but it's definitely something that you both need to do. If one of you did something, the other person would have to do it too, no matter the intensity of the action.

Your best friend's mind drifted off to a far away place, one where he would be able to eat the empanadas de yuca that his mother made. Apart from his yearning to eat food, the thought of you stayed put in the back of his head; the many times you two have eaten at that same table—same time—same spot. And here you were, eating dinner at the Miranda household once more. This could only mean another classic dinner between you and the Miranda's. It started off quite normal: sharing stories about the hours that led to this wonderful time, reminiscing the days past, and enjoying the sound of clinking forks against porcelain plates.

"Lin," you swallowed the chunk of food in your throat, your eyes staring longingly at your empty plate. Good thing there's still a batch left of Luz's infamous empanadas. "Pass me the empanadas." It was normal for you to be mannerless with Lin—he's your best friend, after all.

This time, he didn't seem to be up for the job of keeping his guard. No, instead he decided to be a smart ass: something only you've had the courtesy of being. "Say the magic word." He teased.

"Lin...." You growled. He seemed to take notice that you had a murderous expression, his brain sending rapid waves of instructions to the rest of his body. Lin quickly handed you the batch of empanadas and flinched when his hand touched yours. Common thing he does when you're done with his shit.

"Stuck in a trash bin, all alone...."

You were walking to the library for some useless project on cells when you heard the sound of music—echoed singing, to be exact. Your eyes trailed over to the trash bin, resembling a cartoon character when a person catches them red handed.

More music poured from the foul-smelling container. "Sitting alone, with a rotting banana by my side. Sing it with me! Stuck in a trash bin, all alone."

Your foot stepped onto a sturdy-looking box, hands clutching tightly onto the railing of the trash bin. "Are you alright? Did someone do this to you?"

"No, I just shoved myself into a damn trash container because the acoustics are amazing." His voice dripped with sarcasm.

You squinted your eyes at the boy with dark brown hair, void-like hues to match. The boy swung around a banana peel left to right--his only company for God knows how long. However, his lanky body seemed familiar. A sudden pang of familiarity hit you like a fucking rock. "Lin?"

The male's eyes looked up at you, a tired smile cracking on his chapped lips. "Oh hey, Y/N. Welcome to my recording studio! We have snacks and games to play, plus the echoing affect in here is.......bomb."

"Who did this to you?!" Your eyebrows furrowed, but your eyes rolled in a circular motion due to his reaction to this situation.

"Same person as always."

You groaned in exasperation, your hand turning red from your clutch on the railing. Your feet lifted you slightly--just enough for Lin to grab onto your now extended arm.

It took a few minutes, grunting and arm muscles involved, but you finally pulled your best friend out of the dumpster.

You instantly wrapped your arms around his neck, nuzzling your face into his clothed collarbone. "Why didn't you call me?"

"Like I could get service in that container." He joked, separating his body from yours.

"Lin......." You growled.

The slim teen sighed, running his fingers through his trimmed hair. "He took away my phone."

That was all you needed to hear. Your mind blocked out the calls and signals Lin sent you, your sole focus on murdering Evan. Evan: the school bully. His head being as thick as a Midieval European wall, nothing processes through his brain. Not even the fact that he has court for three more years and his family is practically broke because of how many times he's fucked up.

Anger--no, vexation--surged through your veins; specifically the ones that led to your brain, which was already sending furious signals to the rest of your body. Stomps originating from your feet echoed through the locker-filled halls.

The students around you passed by as your eyes scanned for the source of Lin's misery. You were gonna kill Evan no matter how bad the aftermath will be. E/C eyes kept scanning the aisles of dirty, rusty lockers until they caught sight of a block headed jock. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

You clomped towards the bully, snatching the sleeve of his shirt and wheeling him around. You were instantly met with a transfiguring smirk. Evan crossed his arms and leaned against his infamous graffiti locker; he adds a different drawing everytime he punishes one of his victims. A new addition adorned the center of the locker: Lin's name with an intimidating knife next to it.

Evan picked the dirt out of his long nails. "Did Linny send you to thank me for his new location? You know, he used to live in the toilets. Of course, only his head could fit."

A low growl emitted from the voice box hidden under your esophagus, the sound hitching when you balled your fists. Fury pumped through your veins with more vigour. The clutched fists hanging from your wrists paled from the raging amount of pressure--everything blurred as you felt the skin on your knuckles rip. Blood seeped through the cracks of Evan's hand; his nose recovering from the eerie crack that had sailed around the halls.

Your fists prepared to take another swing, but a pair of familiar arms snaked around your waist. You were pulled from the crowded halls, through groups of students and into a vacant classroom--anger still remained in your system.

Your fiery e/c eyes burned scorching holes into the person who tagged you out of the fight. "What the hell, Lin?!"

"You could've died out there!" Your best friend rushed towards you, pressing your face against his chest. He still reeked of rotting food and an evaporating Capri Sun. "If I hadn't tugged you away from there, Evan wouldn't have hesitated to hurt you! What would've happened if you got hurt?! I can't bear to think about you being in pain!"

Your e/c hues softened at the thought of his words. Does he really care that much about you? The truth is, he does. He doesn't like to admit it, for you would probably tease him about his sappiness, but he despises the mere thought of you being in pain. You knew that, yet your mind refused to believe the fact.

"Lin, I wouldn't have gotten hurt. I can take care of myself."

The slim teen laughed sarcastically. "Yeah, uh-huh, sure. And of course, the murderous look in your face was fake. And I suppose that if he had broken your nose the way you broke his you would've joked about it."

"Yes! I would have! Because I don't care if he hurts me as long as he doesn't hurt you!"

The delicious substance inside the empanada moved against your tongue. The way the yuca rubbed the caverns of your mouth felt like heaven—so much so that something warm pressed against your collarbone. Your teeth stopped chewing on the food in your mouth. Luz gasped. "Lin-Manuel!"

The warm object slid under your shirt and down to your lap, the remains staining your stomach. A knowing look spread across Luz and Luis' faces. It has started.

You grabbed a handful of empanadas from your plate and smudged it onto Lin's faces, yuca bits sticking onto his eyebrows and eyelashes. Your best friend groaned as he mimicked your actions, smashing a large amount of food atop your head of hair.

The two of you stood quickly from your seats--empanadas flew across the room, each and every one of them landing on the faces of one another. Lin speed threw food at your dodging frame while you ran around the dinner table, throwing your 'ammunition' at Lin.

Luz sighed in exasperation. "Every dinner."

Her husband chuckled and pulled her into a side hug, pecking her cheek. "It wouldn't be a classic Miranda-L/N dinner without these two payasos ending up in a food fight with your wonderful cooking."

•————I Want To Complicate You————•

"You're gonna be a Tony Award-winning lyricist one day, Lin." You rested your head on your best friend's lap, his calloused fingers rubbing your scalp. "Everyone in the whole Goddamn world is gonna know your name. And on you're first Broadway show, when the musical or play is over, I'm gonna be the one in the first row cheering for you and yelling 'That's my best friend! I practically raised him!'"

Lin's chest rumbled as he chuckled. "And when you become a writer for the New York Times, I'm gonna run to that fire escape right there-" He pointed to the outside of his window, the wide ledge being supported by the large apartment building. "-and holler your name to everyone in New York, America, our half of the earth and the whole world. Everyone will know who owns the title for 'Greatest Writer' and 'Bestest Friend Ever.'"

You snorted at Lin's faith in your writing skill. You knew that he believed in you and that he would always be there for you. Always. But you also knew that he would eventually become someone in the world; you wouldn't.

Your fingers trailed across the tear-stained letter that rested on the dark oak desk. The old-fashioned parchment paper in the corner of the room taunted you, for every letter you would send to him would be written in ink on parchment. That was a past time--there's no importance or giddy emotion in this letter. There's no reason to write on a rare piece of paper if it will not be meant to laugh. Maybe he will find some humor in it, thinking that he read something false and that you would pop out from the fire escape like you always do and say 'I'm not going anywhere, Nerd.'

Although you wished for his joking trait to shine through this one, you knew it was going to change him. Whether it be positive or negative, long lasting or second surviving, it would defiantly affect his way of acting or imagining. Or maybe you were over-thinking the situation. He's strong and intelligent enough to move on from you, right? He's just that type of person. He'll surely forget about you in no time.

Do you want him to forget about you? Is this really the best decision you could make? Of course it is. He has dreams of his own and if you tell him what you're planning, you're afraid he might drop his aspirations and follow you. You love him too much to do that. He's done too much for you--your decision is for the best. You knew that if you told him he'd go after you no matter how far you went.

You thought about denying the offer and staying at home. The house you live in is your home. Washington Heights is your home. But at one point everyone has to leave, don't they? You have dreams and aspirations of your own, for God's sake! Y/N L/N, writer and editor for the New York Times. Just imagine that.

"I would be happy just writing about horses in Michigan!" You sat up from the bed and flipped through your thousands upon thousands of notes--all written in a journal Lin gave you for your birthday last year. "Look, they even get a good salary and they have a lower risk of losing their job!" Your fingertips landed millimeters away from the wages you wrote down, each amount of money depending on the job position and location.

Lin smacked his history book onto the desk. "No. You will become an amazing writer that documents the reviews and ratings for my future musical on Broadway." He snatched the journal away from you and ran his hand over the large sets of notes. His brain scanned for the message he had written before he gifted it to you. "Aha!" His classic dork grin appeared on his excited face. He pointed towards the spot on a page that was filled with his shit penmanship.

You will eventually become an amazing writer, so I'm giving this book to you so you can document everything you need. Whether it's notes, reminders, or important information, this journal will always be here. Once you finish reading this, I would appreciate it if you said a 'thank you, Lin. You're the best' to me. I hope you liked my gift--if you didn't, then you can tell me and I'll gladly get you something else. Love you, Dork :)

You slowly felt the ground under you break away; you were falling. Everything was suddenly so complicated. Should you stay? Should you go? You have so many different questions that need answering, and you won't find them in a small area like Washington Heights. The opportunity was something you could not pass, especially if they're offering more than just a four year scholarship.

Your fingers shook in reluctance and excitement: complete and utter anxiety. The handle in your grip scratched against the palm of your hand as you stepped out of your now-old room--the letter hid in the back pocket of your jeans. Warm and usually familiar air felt vacant and stranger-like that day. Is it the empty space next to you or the consciousness that you're leaving? You slipped the envelope into your mailbox, it's destination being a few blocks away: The Miranda's Household.

How could I begin to explain this? It seems hard enough for my emotions that I'm doing this through a letter instead of face-to-face, but it certainly makes it easier for me to say.

Look, Nerd, I don't want you to go after me or give up on your life-long aspiration of writing an award-winning Broadway musical. If you do, I'll have no choice but to kick your ass through a letter.

If you haven't noticed by the previous sentences, I'm leaving Washington Heights. A University offered me a scholarship and a shot at becoming a writer--just like I've always wanted to be. You told me that I would eventually be a writer and editor for the New York Times, and now is my chance. Sure, it's not necessarily how we imagined it to be, I mean, we were supposed to go together like we planned. It's always been you and me (it has been since we promised each other that we would never leave), but I'm afraid that this time, I cannot uphold my end of the bargain.

I would apologize, but my decision is beneficial for you and for me. I could try to make this with a bit more humor to sooth the pain in the ass this will be to forget. Lin, finish that musical, please. Don't you EVER give up on that, because I will ask your mom to smack you for me. Goodbye, Nerd.

Y/N

His eyes fogged with droplets of water as his hands scrunched up the paper in his hands. Why would you leave him? Was he not enough for you to stay?

Salty tears escaped the prison in his eyes; his vision turned blurry. A small sniffle that lasted a second soon escalated to a sob that rang throughout his room.

There was a knock at his door. Luis slowly opened the door, careful not to knock it off the hinges due to its ancient appearance. He noticed his son's miserable expression. "Lin-Manuel? Estas bien?"

Lin wiped the tears off his cheeks and jaw, placing the letter on his table. "Yes, pa. I'm fine."

"Oh, ok. Do you still want me to put the ring in the box?" Luis lifted a silver infinity ring; something small and tacky, a piece of jewelry a teenager would wear. Lin had gone to the jewelry shop earlier that day. He bought a symbol of the friendship you two have shared since Middle School. After all, your friendiversary was in three days.

The teenager in the room shook his head, more tears slipped from his grasp. "Do whatever you want with it. It's useless to me now."

•————Don't Let Me Do This To Myself————•

Sweat began to form on your brow as you stepped out of the humid bus. With your papers and I.D in hand, you walked into the campus. Students in the surrounding area wore shorts and tank tops or tank tops--something a New Yorker would never wear. At least, that's a conclusion prior to your eighteen year knowledge.

As you entered the University, the welcoming committee approached you with pamphlets, signing sheets, class schedules, and filled-out dorm applications. During all of this you couldn't help but think about Lin. Has he forgotten about you already? Did it take him a good amount of time to move on or was he happy that you were gone? He's on the other side of the country now; there's no reason for you to still be concerned about Lin's thoughts every second of every day.

"You don't always have to defend me." He groaned, letting go of my waist. "Especially if it's against Evan. You know that he's an insensitive jerk, why would you pick another fight with him?"

You rolled your eyes at your best friend. His naïvety is impressive, for no one could act this way towards the person who literally saved three lives. Evan had been picking on two Freshman and a Sophomore--Lin being the unfortunate fifteen year old. You had neared the bully, punched him square in the jaw, and saved him more space on his locker for his twisted 'art.' And just like that, you spared three lives, but one of them wasn't very grateful (*cough cough* Lin *cough cough*). Instead of thanking you, your best friend dragged you away from the scene from your waist--and now you're in another empty classroom.

"It was no big deal. Plus, I just saved three lives, including your ungrateful ass. So, you're welcome." You scowled at Lin's mannerless ways, but it did bother you that he was not thankful. You have always cared about his emotions towards you--his impression of you. It's never been clear as to why his thoughts of you are suddenly so important. No part of you dares to question it.

Your Lin-corrupted thoughts slowly faded off to the forgotten--but not really. The forgotten is more like the back of your mind, a place where you'll push back unwanted memories or ideas and keep them there until they decide to show up again. Surely, Lin's part of your mind will shine through in no time. It never could stay in the forgotten for more than three minutes.

One Week Later

Jordyn's lazy cooking filled the room, her sweet whistling ringing through our quite vacant dorm room. You groggily opened your stuck eyelids.

"Look, Nerd, you're mom can cook better than Gordon Ramsey, make some bomb-ass chocoflan, and you're telling me that you can't even warm up a tortilla?!" You exclaimed. Lin meekly shrugged as he lifted the semi-burnt corn disc. Half of it was raw and the other half was completely scorched. Why? Because your friend thought a tortilla would cook faster if it was placed directly over the stove's flame. "Who taught you how to cook?! A monkey?!"

Lin shuffled his Nike covered feet. "Sorry." He winced when you snatched the tortilla away from him and slammed it into the trash can. You looked at him, realizing how he was reacting to the situation. Fear rang through Lin's body. What had gotten into you? You never act this way towards him.

Should he be scared or is this another elaborate prank? He decided that he should wait and see what the future beheld for him, due as though he did not wish to see you any redder in anger.

Your burning expression dyed down—why were you so mad? It's just a tortilla, nothing more nothing less. Lin doesn't deserve this type of behavior from your part. "L-Lin, I'm sorry, I don't know what got into me. I-I was angry and stuff and- Oh, God! You don't deserve this! I'm so so-"

Your best friend pried your hands away from your horror-stricken face. He placed the palm of your right hand over his heart and the other one on the side of his face. "Look, I'm alright. See?" He rubbed your hand against his chest. "My heart's still beating." Indeed, a steady palpitation drummed on the palm of your hand. "I'm ok. I forgive you, Dork."

"Why didn't you tell me that before, you ass?!" Your previously comforting left hand turned on Lin and smacked him upside the head. "You could've prevented me from giving you a long-ass apology! But you made me do it anyways!"

"Hey, I just wanted to hear you apologize to the all-great Lin." The Nerd before you flexed his 'muscles' at you. You're not sure why your mind said 'muscles' in sarcastic quotation marks, for he does have a good, slim build. Maybe it's the fact that you're his best friend (you're supposed to keep his self-esteem at a low level, it's your job) or because you just didn't want to admit that you might have feelings for the lanky boy you met in seventh grade (but you would take that information to your grave).

"What'cha cookin', Jordyn?" You peeked over the tall girl's shoulder in order to sneak a glance of the breakfast she was preparing.

Your newly-made friend shoved you away. No mercy. "Sorry, sugar, you're gonna have to wait for it."

"You always say that, and every time I 'wait for it' you tell me that I can make breakfast for myself!" You whined, stomping your feet on the stained, tiled floor.

"I mean it this time."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Two Years Later

The unknown man kissed your neck, his unloving hands trailing down your sides. He hastily unbuttoned his shirt and unpinned your h/l h/c hair.

"What the hell are you doing?" You whisper-shouted; Lin continued to strip down to his undergarments.

He threw his shirt onto your face, your hands rushing to uncover your e/c eyes as he jumped into your bed. Lin decided it a wondrous and exciting idea to sneak into your room—three hours until the ass crack of dawn—and sleep in your bed, risking the shock of your mother when she comes in to 'wake you up.' There wouldn't be any need for waking the coming morning, though. "I'm taking off layers. It's hot as hell in here."

Your eyes rolled in a circular motion as your best friend swung his arm over your waist and nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck. You flicked his forehead. "My mom is gonna find out you're in here sooner or later and you're gonna get hanged. I must warn you, she's a feisty Brazilian." You explained gravely. "And don't get me started on my dad; he'll shoot you, stab you in the heart, revive you with some voodoo shit, and then kill you again. I'll warn you again, he's a murderous Mexican when it comes to boys and his little girl. Plus, I think h-" Soft pecks to your collarbone caused you to halt your explanation. "The hell are you doin'?" No answer. "Lin, I asked you a qu-" Snores emitted your best friend's puckered lips. You sighed. "Asshole."

Your eyelids began to feel heavy and droopy, the weight on your head causing you to snuggle into Lin's body. The force of sleep engulfed you in its powerful arms soon after.

The man tried to pull off your tube-dress; you didn't allow him. "Why don't we take this a little slower, hmm?" Your hands rubbed his chest, his lips parting slightly. "I promise I'll make it worth your while."

The morning light reflected on your mirror, the beam hitting your closed eyelids. A groggy groan rumbled in your voice box.

Your mind was forgetting something, but you couldn't put your finger on it. The delicate skin on your fingertips rubbed against a head of hair. You felt your heart halt and drop to your ass. He was still in your room. You began to hastily smack Lin's arm in an attempt to wake him up. He groaned at your rude disruption of his dreams. "What the hell?"

       "What do you mean 'what the hell?'" You whisper-shouted. "My mom will be barging into my room any minute now and she'll have a fucking cow if she sees a half-naked boy in my bed. So, yeah, I guess you can now understand 'what the hell' is my fucking problem you idiotic fuck. Fucking fuck you." Your fingers ran through your delicate locks of h/c. "Fuck."

       Lin didn't waste a second in jumping out of your bed, lifting his jeans off your carpet as you rubbed your palms against the sides of your face. Your best friend's bare chest heaved up and down in undeniable panic. You shook your head. "What the hell's wrong? Hurry up and get your shirt on."

"I-I can't." He stuttered; his dark eyes darted around your room while his hands searched for that damned piece of clothing. "Where is it?"

You opened your mouth to speak, but closed it quickly when you heard footsteps nearing your room. You and Lin looked at each other—going back and forth between the door and the petrified expression on each other's faces. The footsteps tapped against the floor mere feet away from your closed door. When you turned to look at your best friend with the intention of hiding him somewhere in your room, you were met with the wall that was neighbors with your window—the one that led to the fire escape.

Your legs quickly swung off the bed, leading you towards the opened window. At the street already, Lin ran through the pairs of people, only his jeans keeping him from being half-nude. A relieved chuckle rumbled in your chest, the door to your room swinging open. Your mother dragged herself inside; her eyes widened when she noticed that you were wide awake.

"Why are you awake?"

You shrugged as your eyes drifted away from your mom and towards your sheets, which were scattered all over your bed. There, under the blue blanket, was Lin's Godforsaken shirt—you could sense the piece clothing taunting you, even though it's merely an inanimate object. Your mind stayed on the shirt, but you averted your attention from the object and back to your Brazilian mother. "No reason."

The man tumbled to the floor of your dorm when you pushed him off of you. Your hands rushed to retrieve your clothing from the ground and put it on, grabbing his belongings and shoving him out the door with them. You muttered a quick 'sorry' before slamming the door in his face.

•————I'm Chasing Rollercoasters————•

You couldn't deny, the aching in your guilty chest was reaching your mind, sabotaging your everyday life. Your counselor has ready told you that your recent grades have been undeniably lazy and unlike your usual, hardworking self. The ongoing excuse is that you're having problems with the subject; your meetings end with a newly assigned tutor. Every one of them ends up leaving, however.

Your delicate fingers trailed over the weak argumentative essay that was due tomorrow. Global warming.......blah, blah, blah.......we should do something about it.......blah, blah.......large towers and enterprises are the main factor in the global warming equation.......blah. Most of the stuff you wrote down was evidently pulled out of a raffle hat, since 75% of your essay made no sense whatsoever. There goes that New York Times opportunity. It's surprising how quickly it slipped away

       The rain splattered on the window you sat next to everyday, always thinking—always wondering. Do they still remember you back in Washington Heights? Did you make the right decision by accepting this scholarship? Has the chance to be a writer for the New York Times completely ran through the crevasses of your fingers? Was this effort and risk all for nothing?

       "You don't get to risk your life for me anymore." Commanded Lin, a painfully purple bruise swelling his right eye. "Every time it's the same story and the same lecture I have to constantly teach you." He stepped towards you and grabbed your face with his large, calloused hands. "Don't put your life on the line when someone gets you pissed, please."

       You pushed your best friend's hands away from your face, scowling at him with the intention of ranting for thirty minutes at the least. "First off, you can at least be grateful that I saved your ass from that sweaty jockstrap, you little shit. Second, I don't give a flying fuck whether I die or not; as sappy as it sounds, I'm willing to put all of my efforts into this-" You created an invisible connection between you and Lin "-relationship, even if it means dying. Do I make myself clear, or do we still have some sort of misunderstanding?"

       The rain knocked on your window with greater velocity and power than it was a couple seconds ago. Thunder shook the glass of water next to your essay. A flash of light flickered in the rainy, Irvine sky. You gulped when yet another lightning strike crackled in the dark.

       There's hardly any precipitation in Washington Heights, but when there is, it either sprinkles for five seconds or the streets get flooded with water, mud, and debris. Once the thunder cackled in your terrified face, your brain immediately knew that there would be inundation alerts buzzing in the news.

       You curled up in a ball in the corner of your bed, the warmest blanket you owned thrown over your body to 'protect' you. Your parents were out on a date before the storm hit, who knows when they'll be back—if they come home tonight; sleeping in a hotel during this type of weather is best while your miles away from home.

*CRACK*

Lightning bolts struck the sky in a distinct rhythm, the bright flashes like paparazzi cameras annoying the hell out of a celebrity. They had solemnly sworn that they were up to no good once the shadow of a man flickered for half a second on the wall in front of your window. But when the light disappeared, so did the silhouette. Burying yourself under the covers, a terrorized whimper ricocheted off the small moving space you had.

Another flash. Every second that passed was another moment of your brain warning you of the dangerous possibilities that might be hidden behind your half-closed curtains. As an act of bravery, you uncovered yourself; nothing was there. You sighed in both relief and exasperation from your silliness. Of course there wouldn't be anything there—just a figment of your imagination.

*TAP*

*TAP*

*TAP*

The 'rain' rapped against your window.

*SLIDE*

The blankets engulfed you as your arms rushed to cover yourself.

Hide.

Hide.

Hide.

Hide.

*SLAM*

"Goddamnit!" The voice hissed when the window slid shut with everything but gracefulness. You suspected something that belonged to the intruder must've been smashed by your helpfully fucked-up window. "You need to fix that shit, Y/N. It almost butchered my fingers."

The muffled sound of your voice vibrated against the covers. "Who are you?"

"It's me, Nerd." You didn't move. "Take the covers off, you look ridiculous."

A small amount of lightning light shined through the small opening in the blanket you had made to see the intruder. His hair dripped with pounds and pounds of water that had been seemingly dumped on him, the clothing he was wearing sticking onto his slim figure as he shivered in his drowned Converse. You hurried to untangle you limbs from the blanket. "Why are you here? I don't want you to get sick, you Dork!"

"Thanks for letting me know you care." Lin replied sarcastically, his shirt peeling itself off his skin as I assisted him in removing it. I rapidly searched for any large-fitting clothing I could find in my wardrobe, pulling out my P.E shirt and shorts—the closest I'll get to finding something Lin's size. When I turned to see him, his shirt was long gone and his belt was already unbuckled. Heat rushed to my cheeks.

I threw him the clothing. "Here, it's the only thing I have that's close to your size."

"Bullshit."

"Excuse me?" I raised my eyebrows at my best friend, stepping towards him in a threatening manner. He did the same.

We slowly neared each other until our chests were pressed against each other's. "I said that's bullshit."

"How so?"

"You see-" he started "-I believe the shorts part, I know that my ass couldn't fit into your clothing. But the shirt, that part of your story is fake and you know it." Lin tugged on the piece of clothing that covered your top half, pulling you closer to him. "You're wearing my shirt."

       Your hands clutched the fabric of the clothing that was around your chest, the slightly faded black tint on it appearing dull under the dim light. The rain pounded on your window—lightning flashing and thunder rumbling through the damp, vacant streets. A part of you half-expected the silhouette of a man to shadow over the wall before you, so you waited; hours and hours passed while you sat there in expectancy. It never came.

•————I've Got To Have You Closer Now————•

Author's Note-- I have never written something like this before, so I would like to WARN you. If you feel like reading about ANXIETY ATTACKS will TRIGGER something, then please, DO NOT read this section. Those who chose to continue, enjoy. Also, I will not be posting daily for a period of time, for the stress has unfortunately gotten to me. I hope you guys can understand and won't judge me for it.

It started as with your heart palpitating a little faster than normal. You thought it was probably because of your lack of exercise, even thought that thought made no real sense.

What doesn't kill you makes you wish you were dead

Your breath soon became ragged--you knew what was happening. You knew what was coming.

Got a hole in my soul, growing deeper and deeper; and I can't take one more moment of this silence

Dark spots filled your vision once you realized what was going on--another one is coming. Shallow breaths were the only way of taking in air due to the fraility of your lungs.

The loneliness is haunting me

Nothing wrapped around your arms except unbearable pressure. It forced your shoulders to shrug as you hyperventilated, your eyes stained with tears.

Your best friend rushed to your aide, his soft hands caressing the h/c locks of hair that you had the urge of pulling. Although his warm arms welcomed you, the thought of someone assisting your needs made you feel useless. You couldn't do anything without Lin there, could you?

And the weight of the world's getting harder to hold up.

He probably hates you now. Who could ever learn to forgive someone who did what you did?

It comes in waves, I close my eyes, hold my breath and let it bury me

You're useless. Hopeless. Helpless.

       I'm not okay, and it's not alright. Won't you drag the lake and bring me home again?

       "Sh, sh, sh, it's alright." His voice could sooth even the most threatening creatures on earth. Nothing compares to the way he can keep you sane. "Im here with you, everything's alright." You felt his soft lips press against the crown of your head. Everything's fine.

       Everything's fine. Nothing's fine now. He's not here.

       Who will fix me now? Dive in when I'm down? Save me from myself, don't let me drown

       Tears streamed down every curve, every crevice of your face.

       Lin's arms held you tighter as he pressed your tear-stained face against his chest. While you continued to struggle breathing-wise, he rubbed your back—you were ok.

       Who will make me fight? Drag me out alive?

       Maybe you should give up. He's gone; not here with you. Why should you continue to stay in a place where he's not there to keep you from falling?

       Save me from myself, don't let me drown

       "Look at me," he whispered, "Look at me, Y/N." You slowly raised your head. He rubbed your cheekbone in circular motions. "I'm here with you. The people out there, they're here with you. For you. Don't give up on this, you won't let this break you."

       What doesn't destroy you, leaves you broken instead

       Your chest heaved up and down, knuckles paling from your grip on your black heels, which were thrown once you stepped into your dorm. You could feel a scorching pain shoot out from your lungs.

       Got a hole in my soul growing deeper and deeper and I can't take one more moment of this silence. The loneliness is haunting me. And the weight of the world's getting harder to hold up

       Could he ever see you the same way?

       His hands caressed your face in the gentlest way possible, as if he would shatter you into a million pieces if he were to make any rough movement. The idea isn't very far from reality, however. He knows that you need him there. He knows that he's your salvation. He knows that you are incapable of handling yourself during situations like these.

'Cause you know that I can't do this on my own

Your loud breathing continued to fill the room in long and agonizing seconds. Second felt like days, minutes like years.

'Cause you know that I can't do this on my own

He's always here for you

'Cause you know that I can't do this on my own

He's not here.

'Cause you know that I can't do this on my own

"You'll always have me here."

"P-Promise?"

"Promise."

Who will fix me now?

The pen you held in your hand scribbled against Lin's arm as you signed your name. Placing one last letter, which you ended with a heart, you sealed the deal.

Who will fix me now?

"You realize this is forever, right?" Questioned Lin, his eyebrow raising as he traced his signature that had been written on your arm.

"Yup."

Who will fix me now? Dive in when I'm down?

"I, Lin-Manuel Miranda, promise to never leave Y/N L/N, whether in good times or in bad, for as long as I shall live." He recited.

"And I, Y/N L/N, promise to never leave Lin-Manuel Miranda, whether in good times or in bad, for as long as I shall live."

Save me from myself, don't let me drown