SCENE 27: LOCKING IN

INT. MUSIC STUDIO – DAY

WIDE SHOT:

The door swings open.

WILLIAM steps inside — slower this time.

Eyes scan the space. Not rushed — but it’s clear: this matters.

THOMAS stands near the window. Arms crossed. Watching.

THOMAS
(steady, calm)
It’s not just about making music.
It’s about crafting memory.
Feeling. The only thing that lasts.

CLOSE-UP – WILLIAM'S EYES

He absorbs it — the words, the weight, the room. Takes another step in.

THOMAS
People don’t remember the score.
They remember how it made them feel.
And you —
(pauses)
You can make them feel everything.

CLOSE-UP – WILLIAM'S FACE

He stiffens — like something just struck a hidden chord inside him.

A long, charged pause.

THOMAS
(softly)
The film comes later.
Right now — I want to hear you.
Not instruction. Not polish.
Just the thread only you can hear.
You just need to lock in.

A beat.

WILLIAM
(quietly, testing the words)
Lock in...

THOMAS
(grinning, taps his chest)
Exactly.
You know what I mean.

CLOSE-UP – WILLIAM

His fingers drift to the piano.

He doesn’t sit.

Just touches the edge.

The keys wait.

THOMAS
Tomorrow, we work.
Today — feel the space. Write from instinct.
Speak without words.

WIDE – BY THE GRAND PIANO

William glances at him.

Still unsure — but willing.

He runs a hand through his hair.

Slower this time. Grounding.

WILLIAM
(small smile)
Alright...
I’m locking in.

THOMAS smirks. Steps back.

CUT TO: WILLIAM – SITTING AT THE PIANO

He presses a few keys. Light.

Searching.

Not a melody — not yet.

Then… he closes his eyes.

His fingers start to move.

Tentative. Raw. Honest. No rush. No polish.

Just sound.

CLOSE-UP – HIS HANDS ON THE KEYS

A rhythm forms.

Tentative becomes confident.

Scattered becomes intention.

WIDE – THOMAS AT THE DOORWAY

Leaning.

Watching.

Something quiet in his face — maybe pride.

FADE OUT.

SCENE 28: NOT MY CIRCUS

INT. KIT KAT CLUB, NYC – NIGHT

LOW WIDE MEDIUM SHOT – BACK ANGLE – CENTERED – HEAVY HEADROOM

She stands still.

Alone.

The crowd pulses in front of her — But she’s not in it. She’s not seen.

She wears a soft lilac dress. Light. Feminine. A small scarf tied loosely at her neck.

Out of place here.

MUSIC SWELLS

A slowed, cinematic version of Radiohead’s “All I Need” (starting around 0:21).

Electronic. Hollow. Warped. Vocals stretched and distant.

LIGHTING DESIGN

• Toplight: Gridded softboxes over the crowd only — beams avoid her entirely.

• Spotlights: Sweep across others. Never touch her. Her space stays dim. Ambient. Like even the light doesn’t see her.

SOUND DESIGN

• Muffled laughter. Warped voices.

• Bass syncs with her heartbeat — slow, heavy, disoriented. The world feels out of rhythm.

SLOW MOTION BEGINS

CAMERA MOVES WITH HER – WIDE LENS

She starts walking.

Weaving through the chaos.

Detached. Barely blinking.

FASHION PEOPLE ORBIT HER

They don’t dance.

They perform.

Laughter exaggerated.

Eyes always scanning.

Watching for who’s watching.

WOMEN

High-fashion silhouettes taken too far —

Feathers. Metallics. Ruffles. Trains dragging through sticky floors.

MEN

Tom Ford x Gucci 1995.

Slicked-back hair. Perfect stubble.

Sunglasses in a room with no sun.

Posture like performance.

Jackets more expensive than rent.

MOVEMENT STRETCHES

Laughter too big.

Poses held too long.

Ecstasy faked.

Everything feels staged — a loop of masks.

ANGLE CHANGE – AMERICAN MEDIUM CLOSE

She turns.

Now the crowd is thicker.

Tighter.

Louder.

She pushes forward.

Carefully.

Someone brushes her arm.

A drink splashes too close.

She doesn’t flinch.

But her breath changes — shallow now.

Her eyes flick.

The mask slips, slightly.

She keeps moving.

SFX: MONEY PISTOL FIRES.

A manic laugh.

Dollar bills explode into the air.

BASS DROPS.

STROBE FLASH — 1 FRAME ONLY.

White.

Jarring.

Then black.

LIGHT RETURNS.

Brighter on the crowd.

Dimmer on her.

She brushes bills off her face.

Expressionless.

They mean nothing.

Because they do.

LIGHT DIMMING – STAGGERED

Overhead lights pulse once.

Fade soft.

Return.

Cut out again, slower.

As if the space itself is trying to erase her.

Even the light wants her gone.

She squeezes between figures.

Folding smaller.

Ghostlike.

Like she’s hiding a collapse.

But she keeps moving.

WIDE SHOT – FOLLOWING HER

She steps through. The light behind her dims — and she’s out.

HER POV – THE ROOM BLURS.

Laughter. Movement.

Music — all gone.

Just her breath.

Just her pulse.

She turns. Finds the exit.

WIDE SHOT – FOLLOWING HER TO THE DOOR

She moves like a ghost. No one notices. No one cares.

AT THE EXIT – A MIRROR.

She stops.

Stares at her reflection.

CLOSE-UP – HER EYES

Done. Tired. Quiet.

Freeing herself.

She opens the door.

Steps into the night.

EXT. STREET OUTSIDE – CONTINUOUS

A soft breeze. The music fades behind her.

CLOSE-UP – HER FACE

She exhales. A real smile. Clarity.

ANGLE ON CLUB DOORS

They swing shut behind her. The sound dulls.

The light dims.

MATCH CUT TO:

SCENE 29: SEEN

INT. UPSCALE BAR – NIGHT

Same camera angle — different world. Double doors swing open.

WIDE SHOT – ENTRANCE

THOMAS enters first — calm, confident.

WILLIAM follows — hesitant.

New space. New energy.

Unfamiliar — but oddly fated.

THOMAS nods at the staff — like he owns the place.

Leads them to a tucked-away booth near the back.

WILLIAM lingers.

Takes in the low, warm light. Dark leather. A quiet murmur of money, taste, and unspoken deals.

He adjusts his jacket. Hands twitch. Not his world — not yet.

They disappear behind the high booth wall.

CAMERA LINGERS — THEN DISSOLVES TO:

INT. UPSCALE BAR – LATER

Same booth. Same frame. Time has passed.

Two glasses — nearly empty. A quiet comfort between them now.

WILLIAM
(watching him, still unsure)
Not really used to places like this.

THOMAS
(smiling, easy)
Just relax. Nobody bites in here.

William exhales — a soft laugh.

Shoulders drop.

A small smile.

THOMAS
(quiet, sincere)
I don’t work with many people.
(beat)
Takes a long time to find someone
you trust with the real stuff.

William glances over — guarded, listening.

WILLIAM
(murmuring)
Yeah... hard to know who’s real.

Thomas nods — like he knows exactly.

THOMAS
(calm)
When I hear your music...
I don’t hear polish.
I hear truth.
(beat)
That’s rare.

William shifts — the words land.

Deeper than he’d like to admit.

WILLIAM
(quiet)
Truth doesn’t always sell.

THOMAS
(half-smiling)
Maybe not to everyone.
(beat)
But the ones who find it —
They don’t forget it.

William stares at his glass.

Silent.

Shoulders tense.

Like he’s hiding something heavy.

THOMAS
(gentle, grounded)
You’ve carried it alone for a long time,
haven’t you?

William doesn’t answer.

He doesn’t have to.

Thomas leans back — not pressing, just present.

THOMAS
You don’t have to shrink anymore.
Not around me.
(beat)
You didn’t need anyone to get here — I know that.
But I see what you carry.
And if you’ll let me —
I want to help you carry it higher.

William looks up — searching his face.

For the catch.

For the lie.

Finds none.

Only stillness.

WILLIAM
(barely above a whisper)
I wouldn’t even know where to start.

THOMAS
(steady)
You already did.

A pause. Sacred.

WIDE SHOT – THE BAR

Conversation fades. William’s glass stills in his hand.

And just for a moment —

He lets himself believe:

Maybe he doesn’t have to do this alone anymore.

SCENE 30: THE BOOKSTORE

INT. WESTSIDER RARE AND USED BOOK – LATE AFTERNOON

The place is quiet. Dim. Golden-hour light filters faintly through tall windows. Dust dances in the air. Time feels slower here.

They’re tucked in a far corner, surrounded by shelves. They walk slowly — browsing, drifting.

RUBY takes the book from the shelf. Old, worn. Purple, linen cover with golden letters “Architect of Destiny” with white “10” at the top.

RUBY
(looking at the book)
Ohhh... this one’s good.
(hands it to her)
You’ll thank me later.

HER
(taking it, barely looking)
You’re like a walking library.

RUBY
(smiling)
I just know the good stuff, alright?
(beat)
Hey — want to see that new movie after?
They say it’s good.

HER
(in thought)
Yeah... sure.

RUBY
(teasing)
Wow. Don’t get too excited.

HER
(smiles)
Sorry. I’m a bit of a mess today.

RUBY
The party was that bad?

HER
I don’t know what I was thinking...
At least I finally saw
how much I don’t belong there.
(pause)
Actually...
I don’t even think I belong anywhere.

RUBY
Good.

HER
(surprised)
Good?

RUBY
Yeah.
That means you’re not meant
to stay where you’ve been.

She looks up. Something shifts.

HER
I don’t know, Ruby... I’m scared.
Everything’s falling apart right now.

RUBY
Then let it fall.
(beat)
That’s how you make space for something real.

HER
(exhaling)
Maybe I’m just scared of
not knowing what to do now.

RUBY
So... what would you do if you were not afraid?

She freezes. Her breath catches.

HER
I don’t know...

RUBY
Sure you do.
You’ve just never said it out loud.
(soft)
Close your eyes.
Say it anyway.

She pauses.

Closes her eyes.

A quiet inhale.

HER
(whispers)
I would...
(breathes out)

ZOOM IN — CLOSE PORTRAIT

HER (V.O.)
Slow down.

ZOOM IN FURTHER — SUPER CLOSE ON HER EYES

GLIMPSES — VISIONS — V.O. CONTINUES:

— Her at a typewriter bathed in golden light, fingers flying.

HER (V.O.)
Write. All of it.

— Overhead shot: pulling a finished page, placing it on a growing stack.

HER (V.O.)
Not just for me anymore.

— Dancing in the garden in backlight. She doesn’t care.

HER (V.O.)
Take my mask off.

— Her hand brushes tall grass. A beach. Wind. Peace.

HER (V.O.)
Go where I can hear myself.

— Profile shot: biking fast, scarf trailing, hair wild. Eyes closed. Smiling.

HER (V.O.)
Be the real me.

— Portrait close-up: laughing. Really laughing. Lit from within.

HER (V.O.)
Feel alive again.

BACK TO: INT. BOOKSTORE

PORTRAIT SHOT — HER opens her eyes. Golden light lands on her face. She looks... clear.

[MUSIC BEGINS — reference - “The Consolations of Philosophy” by Max Richter — 2:48 mark]

She’s still. But glowing. Peaceful. Sure of herself.

Like she just remembered who she is.

CUT TO:

SCENE 31: THE SOUND OF BECOMING

[THE MUSIC CONTINUES]

INT. CONCERT HALL – NIGHT

CLOSE-UP — WILLIAM.

Camera slowly zooms out.

He’s seated in the audience.

Still.

Focused.

The music surrounds him — slow, emotional.

His jaw softens.

His eyes shine.

A smile begins — hesitant. But real.

REVEAL — FULL ORCHESTRA.

Lights low.

Instruments glint.

A sweeping, golden stage.

He watches like it’s a dream.

One he hasn’t lived.

But maybe will...

FADE TO BLACK.

[published 29/6/2025]
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