"Lin."

You nudge the blanket burrito with your foot. The man had just rolled off the bed and landed on the floor, completely entrapping himself in a cocoon of sheets and comforters.

"Mmm." It says, sounding annoyed and depressed. "Lin." You say, your hands on your hips, "This behavior is simply not acceptable. You've been moping around the apartment for days."

"Mmm!" He says in a high pitched squeak of a response. "I don't care if you don't want to write Hamilton anymore just because you've got to write about sad things!" You say, exasperated.

"Mmm!" He squeaks and wriggles around in response. Though he hasn't expressly stated any of those things, his reaction and current depressed state verify them. Wriggling enough to free himself from the blanket burrito, in a flurry of moment, he is standing menacingly, "I am not depressed about Hamilton!"

You cross your arms and say, "Okay, so I suppose that your sadness has nothing to do with the fact that the last song you tried to write was, "Best of Wives and Best of Wo-" Lin cuts you off with his loud, ugly crying. "Why did Alexander write a letter to Eliza in case he didn't come back?" He wails.

"Shhhh..." You say, hugging the sobbing man. "Alex knew he might not be returning from the duel." At that, Lin sobs even louder and you sigh, "Look, he did the best thing, maybe the only decent thing, he'd ever done. The last thing he wrote was the kindest."

Lin looks up at you, wiping his tears, you continue, "He was able to shed his pride and recognize that there was a chance that he could loose to his rival Burr in the ultimate way: he could loose his life! Not only that, but Hamilton knew he was throwing away his shot, literally. He was going to remove any chance of winning that duel by refusing to fire, placing his life in someone else's hand in a gesture of complete and total trust: a Hamilton first. So in his final letter to Eliza, he left her with a few words to cherish and those words, from the letters they contain to the concept of their existence, were the most selfless and sacrificial words Hamilton could have ever written."

Lin looks at you, having stopped bawling like a four year old, with his eye brows furrowed, "But..." "Hey," You say, putting a hand on his, "I didn't come here to give a philosophy lesson, I came here to tell you to put a damn pair of pants on because I got a Barns and Nobles gift card in the mail and-" Lin isn't listening. He is jumping around the bedroom screaming: "BARNS AND NOBLES? I HAVENT BEEN THERE IN FOREVER OH MY GOSH!"

"Lin-Manuel, if you don't calm down and brush your hair in two minutes I'm leaving without you."

In less that two minutes, you and Lin are walking briskly through the chilling winter air. In both of your hurries to leave, Lin forgot to wear a coat and you forgot to ensure that he'd put one on. He shivers as he walks and you can't help but roll your eyes as you say, "A little cold there?" Lin looks at you, grinning like a child, "Nope! Just excited!"

"Come here." You say, holding out your arm. Lin presses himself into your side, and you wrap your coat around the both of you. You walk in tandem like this past the campus library. You haven't been back there hardly at all since you found Lin there four months ago. God. Has it really been four months?

To get to the campus Barns and Nobles, you've got to walk through one of the campus green spaces. The park is normally bustling with life, and is regarded as a commons area. Now it lies virtually abandoned, save you and Lin and a single trash can percussionist. As soon as Lin hears the drums, he is off like a shot, feet slamming against the winding pavement, he beelines to the man. You choose to approach the man in a much more leisurely fashion than your male counterpart, arriving several minutes after Lin.

By the time you arrive, Lin has struck up a conversation with the man, whom looks fairly homeless (though, as you think about it, you realize ALL college students look fairly homeless).

"And the way he implements brass as if it's some sort of snare? I just can't!" Lin and the man exchange words of equivalent musical fangirling, the kind of conversation that exists when kindred spirits find one another. You just stand there and smile, watching Lin bounce from topic to topic hand and hand with his new friend.

"Come on." You say after a minute, "Say bye, we gotta move on." Lin looks at you and pouts saying, "Awe come on just one more minute." Then, turning back to the man he says, "Hey we should have a jam session. Can you lay me a beat?"

Oh, Lin