I'm gonna bet that every writer has been daydreaming on and off about making (even if it is waaay out of their skill range) at least one animatic/animation of their story and of course I'm no exception :)
This is probably never gonna be made but I like to imagine.
"Meta" (kinda? If there's a better word for it please let me know) scene for my main story "Two Worlds among the Stars" (not canon):
Even when he's surrounded by other people he feels alone.
He's been alone for years now. He's used to it.
Noah cradles his heart in his cupped hands and holds it close to his chest as he stands alone in the dark.
He's careful not to squeeze too tight. Because a heart is something delicate. It needs to be handled with care.
Or else it might shatter.
And putting a heart back together is not easy. Even more so when you have to do it all on your own.
No one likes to deal with a broken heart because of its sharp edges.
He has cut his hands many times.
Noah is not sure if it is worth all the pain effort. The end result doesn't look all that pretty either.
His thumb brushes over the uneven surface, he can feel every crack, every crevice, every fracture, every imperfection.
It's a mess. He's a mess.
That's why he keeps his heart close, hidden from others.
Sometimes he fails though and an old crack splits open again.
He knows hearts are meant to be shared. Not his though.
Noah doesn't expect trust someone else to handle his heart with care.
It's too fragile, too ugly.
Suddenly he's no longer alone.
John's outstretched hand appears in front of him, palm facing up.
The hand could just grab him, but it doesn't.
It's Noah's choice whether he climbs on or not.
It's still overwhelming in a different kind of way.
Taking the first step isn't easy, neither is the second.
But with every step it gets easier. Not easy. But easier.
Eventually he reaches the hand.
He almost wants to take a step back. He does.
The hand remains perfectly still. It doesn't pull away. Patiently waiting for him to climb on.
The hand lays flat on the ground, so it's easy to step on.
Still Noah hesitates and holds his breath.
This might be a trap. Or a joke. Or a misunderstanding.
Eventually Noah steps on.
The hand still doesn't move.
It's waiting for him to settle.
Once Noah does he notices how warm it is.
A moment or two pass and nothing bad happens.
Noah is unsure and doesn't really know what to do.
It's strange. And foreign. But it's not bad.
Noah still keeps his hands close to his chest.
John's other hand appears next to him.
Next thing he knows, he's cradled in both hands.
Still strange. He's not used to the warmth. But he could get used to it.
Noah's held the very same way he's holding his own heart. Like he's something fragile that is worth has to be protected.
Like he's something precious.
It's tender. It's loving.
His tense muscles start to relax. His hunched shoulders sink down and with them his cupped hands fall into his lap.
Noah doesn't feel the need to keep his guard up anymore.
For the very first time in a long time Noah feels safe. Like nobody nothing can hurt him where he is now.
He looks down at his heart, somehow the cracks seem less visible now. Maybe it's not as ugly as Noah thought.
Maybe he doesn't have to hide it.
It's a nice thought. And maybe that's all it is. A nice thought. Too nice to be real.
Noah looks up into a kind face. Kind eyes look back at him.
They are full of love affection warmth.
And despite himself Noah lifts up his heart.
Only for the scene suddenly to change.
He's kneeling on the cold hard ground with his hands cradled in his lap.
Before him - shattered into tiny pieces - lays his heart.
Maybe even more pieces than the last time.
Noah doesn't cry. His tears have run dry.
There's no use in crying. There's no need to cry.
He should have known better. Should have seen this coming.
It's his own damn fault for getting his hopes up.
And now he's paying the price.
He stares blankly at the shattered pieces on the ground and starts to sweep them into a pile with his hands, only for him to stop not even halfway.
There's no point in putting it back together. It's beyond saving. It's junk.
He wraps his arms around himself and lets out a shuddering breath.
