Chapter Text
For the whole of Jace’s life, he has spent every waking moment in front of a camera.
Whether it was for acting, or modeling— smiling for the camera had been all he’s ever known.
At 16, he can recognize just how hard his father has worked for him to be where he is.
He’s witnessed the tireless hours spent over phone calls in negotiations, spent pouring over scripts, spent faking smiles and rubbing elbows with the greasiest, slimiest fuckers in the industry.
He’s seen his father stretched thin, chewed up and spat out by the meat grinder of the entertainment industry.
And Jace tries to be grateful for all the man has done: for managing him the way he does, for landing him opportunities kids his age could only dream of, and for protecting him from the seedy underbelly of the industry.
But as grateful as he is, the limelight takes its toll too.
Jace hates the attention, he hates the microscope he’s been placed under—with every second of his life dissected and analyzed by strangers.
The pressure, the aching desire to be nothing short of perfect.
He resents him, his father, for this life.
But he bites his tongue, and silently unravels at the seams.
His breaking point comes at one of the most important moments of his life: a red carpet premiere for his latest movie.
The project is massive, with some big-shot director backing it and two A-list leads. The buzz around it is insane, word of mouth travels fast—people say it’s his best performance yet. The next teen heartthrob, they call him.
Jace can’t find it in himself to care.
He walks the carpet, listless. Empty smiles, blank eyes, following the shouted instructions mechanically. His heart isn’t in it. And it’s clear, yet the flashes never slow.
He’s drowning under them, struggling to keep his head above the tides until he just can’t anymore.
He leaves the premier before his costars have even left the carpet. Climbs back into his car and tells the driver to take him back to his hotel.
And as the venue fades from view, as the flashes no longer gleam through tinted windows, he exhales a breath and ignores the insistent buzz of his phone in his pocket.
He knows exactly who it is.
When he makes it back to his hotel room, he cards his way inside silently. He doesn’t bother with the latch or the lock. He knows it won’t be long until the man finds him.
Still dressed in the designer suit that fits too tight and makes him feel like he’s suffocating, he sits at the foot of the hotel bed, waiting.
He isn't waiting long.
All too soon, hardly a whole minute in being alone, his father barges through the door. The man is unnervingly silent in his fury.
He says nothing, even as he crosses the room in a blur of hurried steps, stopping only once he’s in front of Jace, towering over him with that horrible stare of disappointment. Jace shrinks beneath it, adverting his gaze to the ground.
“Do you know what I had to do to get you that role, Jacareys?" His father questions, tone even where his sharp gaze is not.
“Yes but—“
“No. I don't think that you do. Because why else would you even think to pull whatever little stunt that was— Stand up.”
His heart sinks, tears sting at his eyes as he finally looks up to meet his father’s heavy stare. “Dad, I’m sorry— I couldn’t do, I-“
“On your feet, Jacaerys.”
He obeys, standing to his feet stiffly. Even this does little to bridge their height difference. His father’s form is imposing, as he leans his head down near Jace's own. The boy stares at his feet, heart racing.
“Strip.”