I've decided to do a 100-word challenge for In the Heights. Every time one of my professors says a word that strikes me, I'm writing it down and writing a drabble (or something around that length) for the word. I'm hoping to actually end with 100 drabbles, but we'll see how it goes.

I'm still completely obsessed with Lincoln, so most of them will probably be about him or at least have him in it. I don't want to write any mainstream current day fics, so these will all be about the characters as kids. Ages will vary between drabbles, so don't expect anything ordered or structured or anything.

Disclaimer: I will probably never be a self-proclaimed 'ugly songwriter who can't get girls to notice him.' I also do not believe that this is true of Lin-Manuel, since I regularly refer to him as my future husband, but this is besides the point.

Lincoln loved history class.

The teacher always wore a silly tie, normally with exuberant polka dots or cartoon characters or bright patterns on it, which he liked to look at whenever the teacher would give the class lectures. He loved smelling the chalk; he was in the front row, closest to the blackboard. He loved his history book, too. Sometimes when he got bored in class he would page through it, looking at the pictures of long gone soldiers and running his fingers over their forlorn faces.

Lincoln's favorite part of class was handing in his homework or his tests. He would pick up the white papers lovingly, looking down at his handwriting with pride. He was the top in his class, and he knew it. He would watch his teacher smile when he handed over the papers and his heart would swell inside him. He would look behind his teacher at the world map placed on the corkboard behind his desk before turning around and walking back to his seat.

His eyes would always be drawn to the same spot on the map. He would look at the United States, up where he knew New York was. He would sit back down in his seat, thinking about how small New York really was as compared to the rest of the world.

Sometimes Lincoln would cradle his head in his arms and close his eyes, resting on his desk. He would think about how New York City was the only world he knew, how much was still out there. He would open his eyes briefly to peek at the boy sitting next to him and feel glad that he knew so little. With a small smile playing about his lips, he would close his eyes again and thank a higher power that they were friends. He didn't think he could survive everything without someone there with him.