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Jay felt like he finally understood now.
‘Don’t get attached.’
His dad had told him that about a lot of things. Don’t get too attached to a role you’re auditioning for, because then you’ll be way too bothered if you don’t get it. Don’t get too attached to a show or movie because what matters most is what it does for your reputation.
Don’t get too attached to people, because then they’ll think they have the right to start sharing their ‘thoughts’ and ‘opinions’ and whatnot. And definitely don’t get too attached to anyone who can’t help you reach higher. Because those are the people that will just drag you down.
Don’t get too attached to a role. Even one you already got. Because, outside the contracts, you never know how long you’ll get to play it.
Blue Ninja. Master of Lightning. Protector of Lloyd Garmadon. Member of a team. Inventor. Hero. Friend.
Heh.
First Master, had he failed fast.
So many names, so many little titles, so many distinctions, and hands-down, no competition, his favorite role. The only one that… didn’t really feel like a role to begin with. The only one that felt real. The only one that felt true.
This team was the first time he had ever started thinking that there was something of value to him other than a pretty face and an acting resume. The first time he found himself thinking about Jay as a person instead of Jay as a Gordon.
He was an idiot, clearly.
Because whatever he had going on with this gig, whatever sweet bits of fun and value he found, it all faded away when Zane made that sacrifice. Whoever the Master of Lightning might have been, the Master of Ice took him with him.
Nothing felt real after that. Or maybe it all felt too real. He had failed. He had gotten attached. He had gotten so unbearably attached. And now he found himself laying awake at night, missing the droid’s mild-mannered teases, and that little tone of confusion when he didn’t understand a joke, and the way he’d smile when people enjoyed his cooking and--
And it hurt.
It hurt in a way acting never did. It hurt in a way the life he had before never could. It left him aching and longing and hating himself for every stupid, awful thing he’d ever said. Hating how much this stupid role had gained a death grip on his mind, how much every single part of it felt like a jab into his chest for daring to be something that he wasn’t. For daring to care.
He couldn’t stay. There was no point in staying. Without Zane, without the team, without who he had become, there was nothing. Nothing except who he was raised to be. Nothing except Jay Gordon.
It wasn’t hard to return home. It wasn’t hard to leave that role behind. It was easy, familiar.
His dad helped him get a new gig as the host of a game show. It was glittery, flashy, everything he needed to get his mind off things.
They recorded it like there was a live studio audience. There wasn’t. Perfectly edited and added reactions. Gasps and laughter on demand, at the press of a button, talking into a camera as he was spoon fed the perfect responses.
Oh yeah, Jay Gordon’s back, alright, hehe! Heh…
He had a completely packed schedule, just the way he liked it. He didn’t need breaks, he didn’t need off days, he just needed this. To act and smile, imperfections masked under blush and foundation and heart kept safely pinned under a sparkly blue suit.
He stopped sketching blueprints. He stopped thinking of inventions. Arguably, he stopped trying to think much at all. Days became a blend of line reads, flashing lights, and the occasional bit of flirting practice.
It was easier when people were already impressed with him. It was easier when someone was gawking over a role.
It was easier when no one was looking past the curtain. When no one was prying and prodding away at a mask. When no one was tearing down everything his dad had ever taught him.
It became easy to smile again. Maybe not the way the Blue Ninja used to smile, but what did it matter? That was just a character quirk. Just an old role buried with some overly sentimental lines of code.
He didn’t have to worry about it anymore. He didn’t have to see a ninja in the mirror anymore. He didn’t have to see Jay, secret nerdy inventor, who got all sappy and made jokes people didn’t laugh at and liked the people who didn’t laugh.
No. No.
Just Gordon. Just perfect, charming, popular, pretty-boy, Jay Gordon.
Everything his dad could ask for.