pairing: lin manuel miranda x reader
word count: 7,500+
genre: angst (i said it was fluff. i lied.)
summary: lin is putting so much effort into hamilton and you feel like he’s not putting enough into your relationship.
a/n: hahaha, i’m back bitches. hope you enjoy this fic that i put too much time into and will probably still be crap
the ending isn’t quite how i wanted it to be but oh well ill make edits tomorrow if i need to or if i feel like i should. hope all the arguments and feelings make sense. okay love u all. ok bye
Sunday. 10:59 pm.
It all started because Lin was late.
And he was never, ever late.
Well, that wasn’t completely accurate. When streets were crowded, or bars were rowdy, or he was just in one of his writing zones that he couldn’t be pulled out of no matter what, then, and only then, he was late. But tonight was a normal night - well, not normal, but a night when he should’ve showed up to your apartment hours sooner, because he hadn’t seen you since Thursday and you thought he would have missed you. And you were not only surprised, but disappointed. Underneath one of his sweatshirts was a new pair of fancy underwear you had been dying to test the waters with. (Lin was particular about underwear. There were some things he liked, some things he didn’t, and some things that only truly hypnotized him the next morning, when he was sleepy and lazy about the whole ordeal, but still entranced enough to try – and maybe that made it feel a bit more special.) Now they felt like you had struggled to pull them on for nothing.
Not that you were complaining, of course. With a partner as kind and as wonderful, and not mention as brilliant and as gifted, as Lin, of course he was going to have a busy schedule with a lot of different people to meet, greet and charm (which Lin was undeniably good at). You were thankful every day that he had so many things to do and so many ideas to act upon, and that wasn’t just drunkenly sitting in his apartment and twiddling his thumbs all day like your last boyfriend. And, not to mention, you loved to brag about him to your family and your friends back home. (And you weren’t sorry if they felt jealous, because yes, you and Lin had built an amazing life together, and most people should be envious of your undying love and rising success.)
Still, with the few hours you could manage to snag him for per week… you felt like maybe you deserved a little more than three hours less and a cold dinner, untouched and frankly now unappealing on your dining room table.
You saw your phone light up on the coffee table and leaned over to snatch it up in your trembling fingers. (You hadn’t even noticed you were shaking. How long had you been? And was it with anger or fear?) A text from Lin had popped up under the clock, which now read: 11:06 pm.
Four hours late.
On my way.
Ouch. Not even a ‘love you’? Not even any x’s and o’s? Not even an exclamation point?
That was a dead giveaway that something… was wrong.