Brady had only ever relied on two people: her dad and her best friend, Hannah. So when her dad passed away without any warning, Hannah dropped everything and rushed back to North Carolina to help see Brady through anything she needed.

Brady slept-walked through the couple months following the incident. She arranged for the funeral, packed up her dad's home, her childhood home, and continued to mourn in a gloomful daze as she waited for the house to sell.

Without Hannah, Brady truly believed her sanity would have died with her father. Hannah watched over Brady like a second mother, and even went as far as to persuade Brady to leave North Carolina and live with her for a while in her apartment in New York City.

…

"Hannah, what was that for?" Brady turned to her friend who stood to the left of the love-seat, remote in hand.

"Your romantic comedies will be waiting for you when you get back, Brady. But hey, since the TV is off for the first time in the last three days, what if you, gasp, took a shower? Ever heard of that before?" While Hannah was talking she inched closer to Brady, who was sprawled out on the couch like a human stain. Hannah caught hold of the blanket Brady had been styling since who-knows-when and quickly yanked it away before Brady could resist otherwise.

"Not my blanket, no, the horror!" Brady cried in faux terror as she flung her head to the side so that her blonde waves covered her eyes, then hugged her knees to her chest as if this maneuver would make her disappear from Hannah's sight.

"Alright, Ms. Drama," Hannah laughed, "you can finish your oscar-worthy performance later. But if you don't get in that shower right now I'll revoke cookie privileges."

"Fine, fine, I give up. You've found my weakness, o non-merciful one." With a humph, Brady rose from the couch, which now seemed to be sporting an attractive indent of her body, and slumped towards the shower.

Fifteen minutes later, Brady was showered and dressed in jeans paired with a white shirt and sneakers. Her hair was down and she had applied some light mascara before allowing Hannah to inspect her. "Nicely done!" Hannah approved. "Don't you feel better now?" She raised her eyebrows as if to say 'I told you so' while leading them both out the door, locking it behind them.

"Cleanliness is for the weak," deadpanned Brady, not willing to give her friend the satisfaction of being right. Secretly, the shower had made Brady feel good. It had been two months since her dad's death, and she finally felt ready to take one or two baby-steps forward.

…

Walking down the streets of New York City left Brady feeling dazzled. The bagel shops, department stores, and yellow cabs that they passed were just as she imagined they'd be. Even the gleaming lights of the city seemed to emerge in the late-afternoon atmosphere just for her. It had always been a dream of hers to live here. Actually, it was a dream she and Hannah had shared back when they were high school seniors together. So when they both got accepted to colleges in NYC, they freaked. Unfortunately, Brady and her father couldn't afford the cost, so she settled for a college not far from her home in North Carolina, while Hannah left for the big city to pursue a career in acting. Ever since then Brady had stayed in North Carolina, keeping her father company and settling for a job in the publication business. It was an insanely boring job she was glad to quit when Hannah insisted she spend some time living with her. "You can always find another boring desk job," Hannah had told her. And Brady knew she was right.

Hannah noticed her companion's dazed look. "Whatcha thinkin bout?" she asked with a grin.

Brady blinked away her daydream and replied with an exaggerated sigh, "Oh, you know, just trying to remember how wonderful life was before you dragged my ass out of bed." Hannah laughed in response and playfully shoved her shoulder. "But really, why am I going to your work with you? I'll only get in the way."

Hannah rolled her eyes as they turned the corner and headed down Broadway. "First of all, you won't be in the way. Secondly, you desperately needed to be reminded of what the outdoors looked like." Hannah gestured around her. " And finally, you love all things broadway just like me. Need I go on?"

"Yes."

"Brady, stop being an antisocial turtle, take a breath, and try to enjoy yourself today. I promise you that at the end of the day you'll be begging me to take you back."

Brady mumbled some incoherent response and dragged her feet the rest of the way in an attempt to show Hannah how much she resented being removed from her couch indent. It wasn't until the theater where Hannah worked came into view that Brady became nervously excited. The gigantic golden-yellow posters outside the theater stared back at her in an intimidating way that left her in awe. She knew she was being silly in letting her nerves get the best of her. After all, she loved the music from Hamilton, and if Hannah could manage to perform in front of hundreds of people every day for the Broadway hit, Brady could handle watching her do so from the background. Hannah gave Brady a knowing glance as she unlocked the door and led them both inside.

…

The silent darkness consumed Brady the moment the door to the outside slammed shut. Hannah turned on a hallway light in the narrow passage as they made their way to a set of wooden stairs. The stairs led them into another hallway, from which they took a right, and stopped in a corridor lined with many doors. The wooden door in front of them (it seemed everything in this building was made out of wood) wore three gold paper stars with the names Hannah, Mia, and James. The door next to this one had identical stars with the names Rénee, Jasmine, and Phillipa written on them. Looking down the hall, Brady saw that almost every door had a couple of stars, most likely bearing more names.

Hannah opened the door to her dressing room and set her bag down on the couch against the right wall. Across from it on the left wall was a vanity with three mirrors. "You can put your purse near mine and then explore the theater if you want. Well, I know you want to, so scratch that. Just don't break anything."

"Psh, I don't break things that often," Brady scoffed as she removed her satchel and set it on the couch. Hannah looked at her with an eyebrow raised and arms crossed, a look Brady had received from her many times before. Brady knew it'd be futile to argue, so changed the subject. "Why is it so quiet here? Does the whole cast meditate before every show?"

"It's because we're the first ones here dummy. I figured you'd want to have a look around by yourself before the show starts and everyone else arrives. So you run along and not break things, while I stay here and relax before I have to get ready."

When Hannah finished speaking, Brady felt a sudden pang of admiration for her best friend. Hannah was curvy and slightly shorter than Brady, and there was no doubt in her mind that Hannah was ten times prettier than anyone she'd ever met. With her looks and talent combined, it was no wonder that Hannah was hired to be apart of Hamilton's ensemble, she thought. Hannah moved to put her brown hair into a bun when Brady suddenly embraced her in a hug. "Thank you. For everything."

Hannah laughed and gave Brady a quick pat on the back before pushing her back into the hallway. "Stay out of trouble," she said as she clicked the door shut. Brady was left alone in the silence, wondering which way to go.

…

It took her a few turns and some backtracking, but eventually Brady found her way to the stage. Slowly stepping past the curtain, goosebumps began to make their way down her body, and she shivered in response. It was eerie how dark and silent it was. But as her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting a smile crept towards the corners of her mouth. The atmosphere reminded her of the glee episode where Rachel and Kurt snuck into a Broadway theatre, just like this one. Brady imagined the seats in front of her packed with an excited audience. She looked left and right to make sure she was alone, the silence assuring her she was, and proceeded to dive deep into her imagination. She saw herself dressed in a black, sparkling dress with her skin painted green. She was Elphaba and it was the opening night of Wicked.

Standing center stage, Brady began singing her favorite song from the show, 'No Good Deed'. She started off at a whisper, but grew slightly louder as the song went on.

"One question haunts and hurts. Too much, too much to mention. Was I really seeking good, or just seeking attention." At this point Brady was moving around the stage, fully enveloped by her dream world. She could picture the crowd looking at her in admiration, her own voice wrapping them up in the story. Brady began to spin in a circle while attempting to hold the longest note of the song, but halfway through her twirl noticed a figure behind her.

On stage there was a structure with a staircase that led to a loft area, probably to give the cast more places to move around and to give the performance more dimension, or something of that nature. Standing up on the second story, with his forearms resting on the banister, stood a man in the shadows. Brady's voice faltered. She let the note she was holding fade away until it was quiet again.

She couldn't see his face, but knew he was watching her, and probably had been for a while. Brady refused to let this stranger make her feel embarrassed, so she crossed her arms over her chest as the two stared at eachother for a couple silent moments.

"Don't mind me, keep going if you want," said the shadow looking down on her. He pushed himself up from his leaning position and started to make his way towards the staircase.

"I thought I was alone," Brady said more like a question than a statement. She watched the man begin to descend the stairs until a sliver of light revealed who he was.

There was no mistaking him: the dark hair pulled back in a bun with some pieces coming loose, his even darker eyes that seemed to speak without making a sound, the hands resting in his jean pockets. Brady had seen his face on magazine covers before. This was Lin-Manuel Miranda, the star and creator of the musical Hamilton. And Brady had just made a complete fool of herself in front of him.

Lin stopped halfway down the staircase and let out a laugh. Brady let her arms uncross, suddenly not sure what to do with them. "What?" Brady asked, hoping he wasn't laughing at what he'd just seen her do in her assumed privacy. She wondered how long he'd been watching her.

"I bet if someone walked in right now they'd think we were rehearsing The Phantom of the Opera, considering where we're standing. And the dark lighting. It's almost perfect." Lin hummed part of a song from the musical while making his way to the stage floor. As he got closer, Brady noticed his t-shirt had a Star Wars quote on it. Not to mention it hugged his biceps well.

A meager "Ha" is all Brady could manage to get out. Her star-struck embarrassment glued her feet to the floor. She could feel a blush rising as he got closer, and prayed that the darkness would hide it.

"I'm Lin by the way" he said as he pulled one of his hands from his pocket and extended it towards Brady. She stared at it for a moment until she realized how weird she was being. She shook his hand back, taking note of how warm his hand was against her cool skin. "Uh, hi Lin, I'm Brady," she said as confidently as possible given the circumstances.

"Wow, that's a nice name. To match a lovely voice of course. Are you new to the cast? Of course you're not new, I would know if we were hiring someone new. I wouldn't be surprised if you were though, after seeing the show you put on for your audience there." Lin broke their eye contact and glanced at his shoes. His rambling made Brady feel more at ease somehow, as if his fast-paced, long sentences would make up for her short-lived ones. She felt like his silent, brooding manner before this moment was all an act. Maybe he'd been taking on the Phantom's persona. However, his praise (whether it be truthful or out of pity, probably the latter she thought) reddened the blush in her cheeks. Now more than ever she wished she had stayed at the apartment.

"Well thanks, that's high praise, coming from you," Brady replied, finding it hard to keep her eyes on his for more than a second. "And no, I'm not apart of the cast, although I do a good Hercules Mulligan if need be." Brady winked, and Lin laughed out loud at this. She could tell it was genuine. Either that or his pity party was in full swing. In both scenarios, his laugh made her more comfortable, so she continued. "My best friend, Hannah, let me come to work with her today. So I was just looking around backstage, and onstage I guess, but not breaking anything, and embarrassing myself." Brady mentally kicked herself for saying more than two words, a safe amount for her. But Lin, being the charming one, laughed again at her dry sense of humor. His laugh was so pleasant she wanted to never stop hearing it. She noticed the way his eyes crinkled in the cutest way when he did it. Brady, stop it now, she chastised herself. He's a superstar and is probably engaged to a freaking model. But when Brady snuck a glance at his left hand, she didn't see a ring.

Before Lin could reply, the lights on stage sparked to life, and they both squinted at the sudden brightness. Brady heard a couple voices coming from stage left and knew that the crew had arrived to prepare for that night's show. It felt like she was being snapped back to reality. And with no more darkness to hide herself from Lin's handsome gaze, Brady fell back into her habit of being an antisocial turtle. "I should go find Hannah," she murmured. "It was nice to meet you." She gave him a small smile before quickly making an exit back the way she came.

"I'll see you around," she heard him say just as she was about to turn the corner. Their eyes met, causing Brady's heart to stutter, before she walked forward so that he was out of sight. Brady released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.