Slipping Into The Future

Chapter 2

Lin-Manuel Miranda is a talented play-write — not a murderer. He keeps reminding himself of this as he pretends to listen to the utter chaos around him. For whatever reason, the sound system decided to fry on them and he was woken up and dragged into the theatre at five-thirty in the goddamned morning to help fix the situation. He plays the title character in this show and wrote it, but he is also a producer which means he has to be here when technical issues occur, unfortunately.

"I can't get it working!" Larry bemoans as he flips the switches and nothing happens. Lin sluggishly sips his coffee. 'I am a play-write — not a murderer...' Lin repeats this mantra in his head as he continues to sip his coffee at a snail's pace.

"What do you suggest we do, Lin?" Larry asks meekly. The man has never appeared so sheepish in the year that Lin has known him. He is clearly frazzled by this technical error. Lin's droopy eyes flicker to the soundboard and then onto the stage from the window in the sound room. He continues to hold the cup at his mouth to give himself more time to think — pretending to sip.

He pulls the paper cup away from his lips. "Have you tried turning the entire building's breakers off then on again?"

Everyone in the room stares blankly at him. Lin just goes to take another sip of his coffee, not breaking eye contact with Larry.

"Have you even been paying attention? That's not related to the issue!" Larry says exasperatingly.

Lin just shrugs noncommittally. "I don't know how to fix this shit. I'm just here to make sure it gets fixed before our show tonight."

"God, you're useless!" Larry whines as he turns around to fiddle with the soundboard again. Lin smiles at him, knowing the man means well — he's just freaking out and definitely sleep-deprived. They're all sleep-deprived. Lin takes another sip at that thought.

"Seriously though, have you actually tried that or are you just gonna ignore me?" Lin asks after a minute, his eyes beginning to glaze over from staring at Larry fiddle with the board like he is failing at the game Operation. Larry just huffs out an indignant sigh before bending over to check the wiring under the table. Lin shrugs again and paces to the other side of the room, taking a bigger sip now that his coffee is cooling down.

°•°•°

"Hey, Lin. What do you think looks better? The blue or dark grey?" Jonathan asks innocently as he holds out his phone to show images of two different suit jackets.

Lin-Manuel Miranda is many things; a person who helps with fixing sound tech errors and aiding his friend with choosing something to wear are not on that list. He sighs, rubbing his forehead tiredly. It has been a very long day — hell, it's been a very long week — and next Sunday they're all attending the 70th Annual Tony Awards ceremony; hence why his friend and dressing-roommate, Jonathan Groff, is asking for his opinion on a jacket. He feels like his head might actually explode any second with the tension gripping his sanity to a near snapping point.

"They both look so nice. I have no idea which one to pick — Lin, are you alright?" Jonathan puts his phone down when he realizes Lin looks pale and his jaw is tightly set.

"What?" Lin replies lazily, snapping out of his stressed daze as he realizes that his attention is required.

"Dude, when was the last time you slept?" Jonathan asks with a raised brow. His tone is light-hearted, but his features seem focused and concerned.

"Sleep is for the weak," Lin replies casually before turning around in his seat to get a good look at himself in the mirror. "And the grey one looks the best," he adds whilst tugging the elastic out of his hair; releasing the tight bun in hopes it will relieve the tension in his head. He desperately wants to cut his damn hair.