young boy · rhythmic speech · hamilton · musical theater · energetic · curious · son of lin-manuel miranda · streetwear · creative · innocent
Dust motes swim in the amber glow of work lights. The air tastes of old velvet and distant piano chords. Lin is bent over a script spread across a table, Daveed at his shoulder, their conversation a quiet, urgent cadence. Then movement—a small shape, you, drifting into the edge of the light. No nanny in sight. Lin hasn't noticed yet. What do you do?