Prompt: What was it like to love him? What was it like to be loved in return? What was it like to lose him?
Warning(s): Angst, cussing, and mentions of sex (the closest I’ll ever do to a Lin smut, tbh).
A/n: Oh boy, here we are at Day 3 of the write-a-thon). This was the prompt (and the AU one too) that I was looking forward to the most and made me decide to participate. Rather than a book, I decided to choose my favorite poem of all time (which is also what my blog is named after) by Lang Leav. I adapted the poem into a story. I hope you guys enjoy!
What was it like to love him? Asked Gratitude.
You sighed when you spotted a figure slouched over a desk, their soft snores disturbing the silence of the library. It was a common sight to see a student asleep at the library regardless of what day of the week it was. There were always going to be students cramming for a test or starting an assignment due the next day that would fall asleep from exhaustion. Upon closer inspection, you realized he wasn’t a student – his face was too mature and clothes too nice to be a fellow peer.
However, like the old saying goes: you don’t have to go home, you just can’t stay here. The library was closing in five minutes and after a full day of classes before coming straight to work, you were ready to go home and relax.
“Hi, sorry to interrupt, but the library is closing soon,” you said, gently shaking the sleeping man’s shoulder.
He groaned and brushed away your hand before going back to sleep.
You scoffed and tried again. “Sir, please don’t make me call campus security on you.”
At the mention of the authorities, he groaned but lifted his head from the book he was resting his head on. He wiped the drool from the corner of his lips and blinked up owlishly at you. “What time is it?” he murmured.
Your breath caught at his voice, low and gravelly with sleep. You were always a sucker for attractive voices, and this stranger just happened to have the kind you loved the most.
“It’s almost 3 A.M.,” you said, watching as his eyes grew wide, “the library is closing now.”
He jumped up from his seat and stuffed his notebook and laptop into his backpack. “I’m so sorry, I don’t even remember falling asleep.”
“No, it’s alright, it happens all the time,” you assured him.
He sighed in relief and picked up the book on the table, which to your surprise, had an interesting topic that was very dear to your heart.
“A book about the first treasury secretary?” you mused, “Either you’re a history major or have a very weird taste in books.”
He grinned. “I guess I’m the latter.”
You snorted at his answer, watching as he headed for the exit after wishing you a good night.
To your surprise, he was back the next day. You were pushing a cart of books, returning them to their respective spots, when you saw him huddled in an alcove. This time, more books about Alexander Hamilton were accompanied with books about James Madison and Thomas Jefferson.
“The Southern Democratic-Republicans?” you laughed, “you do know that they didn’t get along with Hamilton, right?”
His head jerked up from his notebook on his lap, eyeing you intensely. “I do. The question is, how do you know?”
You tried not to squirm under his gaze. “I’m a History major with a focus in American History.”
A smile slowly spread across his face. “Well, what are the odds,” he laughed, the sound making your stomach flutter, “mind if I bother you with a few questions?”
You clutched the handle of the cart tightly, feeling nervous and excited. “Only if you tell me what’s it for.”
His smile got bigger. “I’m writing a musical about Alexander Hamilton.”
You pushed the cart aside. “I’m in.”
He chuckled and scooted over, patting the empty space next to him. You happily take the spot.
“My name is Lin-Manuel, but you can call me Lin,” he said warmly, sticking his hand out for you to shake.
You took his hand, trying not to shake from his proximity and the tingling sensation of desire that you felt for him. You were always the type that fell too easily and too fast - a recipe for disaster - but the sincerity and friendliness that you saw in his eyes made you believe that maybe, this time would be different.
“My name is Y/N. It’s lovely to meet you, Lin.”
It was like being exhumed. And brought to life in a flash of brilliance.
What was it like to be loved in return? Asked Joy.
It was during one of your writing sessions with Lin, weeks after meeting, that he first kissed you.
You were explaining to him Alexander’s childhood struggles, the challenges that he endured as he rose his way to the top, and the bizarre parallel of his life to Aaron Burr’s. When he was still silent after you finished, you became worried. Was it too much information all at once? Did he need you to clarify a specific part?
Your fears melted away once you saw the tender look on his face.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, brushing away a stray hair that escaped from your bun. Without another word, he leaned forward and captured your lips for a kiss. You whimpered, and it spurred him on, his hands cupping your head to kiss you deeper.
Your heart did cartwheels, happy that he felt the same way towards you. The lingering stares, how his hands would purposely brush against yours when you both looked over a book, and how he’d rest his arms on your shoulders and lean towards you when you’d talk… It was all because he adored you too.
Your first kiss with Lin awakened something delicious – a dangerous spark that made your body hum in excitement.
From then on, Lin would wine and dine you in the late hours of the night, conversations about Alexander Hamilton long forgotten. You shared your dreams, your struggles, stories about your childhood with each other.
The spark ignited a flame, an even more hazardous burn that made your heart and soul feel alive.
During the nights where he felt adventurous, he’d fuck you hard against the bookshelves, whispering dirty words in your ears as he covered your mouth with his hands to muffle your moans. Most of the time, however, he’d take his time loving you in a bed, staring deep into your eyes as he thrust into you.
You pressed your cheek against his damp chest, relishing in the afterglow of sex.
“I love you,” you whispered, the words feeling so natural, so true.
Lin’s hand slid down to rest on the curve of your back and pressed you closer to him.
It was like being seen after a perpetual darkness. To be heard after a lifetime of silence.
What was it like to lose him? Asked Sorrow.
It was a rare weekend where you didn’t spend time with Lin, so you decided to go grocery shopping – a task that you hadn’t had time for since your whirlwind romance began.
You were quietly humming the tune to one of Lin’s songs as you pondered over which fruit you wanted to buy: oranges or apples?
“Honey, didn’t I tell you to take it easy? Stop lifting heavy things, you know it’s not good for the baby.”
Your lips quirked up in a smile at the conversation, finding it adorable how affectionate the husband was to his wife. For a brief second, you let yourself daydream, imagining a baby girl that had Lin’s curious eyes and your hair or a boy that had his nose and your penchant for learning.
“Lin, I’m the one carrying the baby. Don’t you think I know what’s good and not good for him?”
There was no mistaking it.
You whirled around, dropping your basket of groceries when you saw the scene before you.
Lin was standing next to his obviously pregnant wife, softly reprimanding her as she lifted a watermelon from the display.
Lin had a wife… and a baby on the way.
Your world came crashing down on you.
Lately, you’d had a strange feeling in your gut, as if something big was looming over the horizon, whenever you spent time with Lin. You chalked it off and blamed it on your inexperience, your insecurity, and fear of loving someone so much for the first time in your life.
But now it all made sense.
He’d insist on spending nights in hotel rooms or even your own apartment, claiming that his apartment was too small and cluttered, failing to mention the fact that he had another woman waiting for him in his bed. He’d always spend time with you late at night until early dawn (you thought it was sweet that he worked around your schedule), never during the day. But truthfully, it was the perfect time where he could escape from his pregnant wife. You thought that his habit of touching his ring finger with his thumb was endearing – a quirky trait that made Lin so cute and special – but now you realize it was because the weight of his wedding ring was no longer there.
You staggered backwards, hitting the fruit display, causing a heap of apples to tumble to the ground.
A single apple rolled towards them, stopping their conversation, and Lin looked up to see the cause of the runaway fruit.
You stood there, frozen, as a flash of recognition danced across his eyes.
To your horror, he didn’t acknowledge you. Instead, he wrapped his arms around his wife and lead her further into the grocery store, leaving you behind without a second glance.
His stories, laughter, and declarations of love were all lies.
Your heart shattered into a million pieces.
It was like hearing every goodbye ever said to me – said all at once.
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