Y/n-Your name
M/n-Middle name
L/n-Last name
F/n-Friend name
H/C-Hair color
What if Lin-Manuel Miranda didn't write Hamilton? If he didn't, Hamilton probably wouldn't even exist. It takes one person to make something happen and that person happened to be Lin-Manuel Miranda. But, what if it was someone else?
Someone by the name of Y/n M/n L/n wrote Hamilton in a different universe. She was only fifteen when she started writing the songs to the musical in a worn out magenta notebook. She only did so during class whenever she was bored of the lecture. This small habit soon became something more when she focused all of her attention on writing lines and music in the notebook between classes or at lunch. She soon decided that she would start something new and when she graduated from high school and college, she focused more on her writing. Along the way, she met F/n, and F/n was able to help Y/n with the musical. In the end, Hamilton became something big like it is today. But, Y/n wasn't there in the end to see her masterpiece.
It was the musical's first time being open to the public on a chilly November night. People were heading to their seats, chattering excitedly to those around them, and everyone backstage was scrambling to get everything set, the final touches. Y/n and F/n were outside of the theater, discussing the show.
Y/n said," I just hope everything goes right, ya'know?" She saw the cast practice for tonight's show and Y/n was extremely excited, even though she wasn't able to perform in front of the audience. F/n sighed," It'll go smoothly, Y/n. Everything is set and everyone seems very excited." Y/n nodded, her thoughts scattering. She nervously bit her lip and smiled at her friend. She said," You better get ready. I wanna see ya up there!" F/n giggled at Y/n's attitude but there was an uneasiness in F/n's gut, the type of uneasiness that told her that something was wrong. Y/n mentioned a few times she was from Nebraska but never said anything about it. It was pretty clear that she hated her family and it brought the young woman nervous when she heard that her family was going to be here tonight to see the show. Y/n decided to bottle up her anxiety and listened to F/n ask," What's wrong?" Y/n answered," Nothing. Just, the show. Anyways, F/n, can you promise me something?" F/n perked up in confusion but nodded anyways. Y/n sighed, running her hand through her H/C hair. She said," Please, if anything, anything, happens, let the show go on. I don't want any interruptions and want...want this to come true. I want my dream to come true. I don't care if I die right here and now, just let the show go on. Mourn about me later and just let this go on. 'Kay?" F/n was about to protest but snapped her mouth shut. F/n knew better than to protest. Y/n has been working on this since she was fifteen and now she was twenty-three years old. This was Y/n's dream and most people nowadays don't fulfill their dreams. Y/n was going to be one of those people who would fulfill her dream.
F/n nodded and said," I promise, Y/n." Y/n smiled, a sort of anxious but happy look in her eyes. F/n asked," So, if you were able to be up on stage, who would you be?" Y/n answered," Aaron Burr." F/n asked," Why?" Y/n said," I relate more to him, I guess." F/n nodded slowly, piecing everything together of why the two were alike. Y/n was extremely patient and never spoke out. Y/n smiled and said," I think the show started. Go out there, F/n, and make me proud." A silly grin was plastered on Y/n's face and F/n couldn't help but laugh. She chuckled," Alright, see ya after the show, Y/n." Y/n nodded and once the door closed, Y/n heard the click of a gun.
Y/n heard the loud blast of the pistol before she felt the pain. At first, nothing happened. Y/n was going to go inside once she heard the familiar click of a gun but whoever had the gun got her first. Then, Y/n felt the pain. The pain was unbearable, and if Y/n could explain it, the pain came in like sinister waves. Radar-like waves. It took Y/n a few seconds to realize that the pain was coming from her heart.
In other words, Y/n wasn't able to see the show. She wasn't able to live and see what she created. And, F/n kept Y/n's promise. She forced everyone to have the show go on and Y/n was thankful for that because, everything turned out very well, except the fact she was killed.
Y/n's head was pounding and she heard the distant sound of ringing in her ears. She forced her eyes open and realized she was staring at the ceiling of the theater. Y/n slowly sat up, each movement hurting. She looked around and realized that she was in an empty theater. She got up, using a nearby chair for support and noticed that the lights were dimming and then the sound of music hit her ears.
How does a bastard, orphan, son of a whore
And a-
Y/n smiled and sat down, the pain going away each single beat of the song. Someone sat down next to Y/n and Y/n turned to face who they were and her jaw dropped. The man greeted," I'm Alexander Hamilton. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss L/n." He held out a hand, and Y/n shook it.
There was one thing that Y/n missed. There is a beat and a melody.
