#˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ newsies // leaving & growing old ❥

[kellyscowboy]

꒰✧ᯇ✦꒱ DON'T BE SORRY FOR LEAVING AND GROWING OLD || ch. 2

ᯇ summary ! ✦ Jack Kelly finally gets out of New York and makes something of himself. Though, he's never been good at goodbyes and David won't answer his letters. || read full thing on ao3 now WRITTEN FOR THE NEWSIES FIC EXCHANGE ᯇ warnings ! ✦ cussing & angst 777 WORDS © 2023 , 𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲

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Jack had finally made a life for himself. He no longer wondered where his next meal would come from or if he might spend the next week in the refuge instead of the lodging. It wasn’t like he was famous, but he was known enough.

Santa Fe wasn’t as small as he had hoped, but still smaller than New York. In his mind, he had pictured a town where everyone knew him, and neighbors would bring him eggs and invite him over for Thanksgiving.

It had taken a while, but everyone did know him. However, it wasn’t due to the shortage of population, but due to his impeccable art that was sold at coffee shops and diner’s all-around town. He had aneighbor that brought him eggs, but she only did so in hopes that the boy would fall in love with her and draw her.

Which he did… draw her. He never could fall in love with her. She was missing something, something he had yet to find anywhere but New York. But he married her anyway, because he didn’t know what else to do and he was horrified of being alone.

That’s when his career kicked off. Darla, his wife, came from a well-off family who had many connections in the art business. It was sheer luck that her father’s best friend happened to be a curator, who had chosen the art that was displayed in many popular museums. 

When he got paid for the first time, the bubble of guilt that had popped long ago began to fester again. He knew what he had sacrificed to get to that point, the friendships he had lost and the family he had left behind. That’s when he wrote his first letter.

Dear David,

It’s been a while since I left, and I guess I’m kinda hoping you’ve gotten over the whole leaving ya behind thing. Which I guess ain’t fair of me to ask.

I’m glad you were mad at me. You let me get away with too much, Dave. I shouldn’t have talked to you the way I did, I should have said goodbye, and I should’ve brought you’se with me. So, I’m sorry.

You probably don’t care, but I’m doing pretty good out here. People really like my art. I just got my first check, it’s weird to see dollars and not cents. Sorry, I feel like I’m bragging. I’m not trying to. It’s just…

Well, I dunno really. You always told me I could be something more and I guess this is me thanking you, because you’re right. I wouldn’t be here without you. And I don’t want you to blame yourself for me leaving, cuz I would’a done it anyway.

I’ve been thinking about coming out and visiting. But I’m sure no-one wants to see me ever again.

I want you to know that I felt guilty, I still feel guilty. I don’t know why I didn’t want to say goodbye, but. Anyway. I’m sorry for everything, Dave.

Sincerely & forever yours,

Cowboy.

It wasn’t too long after that that his art began to change. Colorful landscapes of Santa Fe that took deep breaths of fresh air turned into dark Manhattan sky lines with smog that leaked out of the edges. Portraits of Darla began to showcase curly hair, freckles, and light blue eyes. Images of Darla’s younger cousins swinging over the lake turned into young, raggedy-clothed boys hugging each other tightly during a storm.

“Jack…” His wife started. She approached him carefully, softly. “Honey, I think you might be missing New York.”

Jack hummed, barely acknowledged the statement. “Why do you say that, dear?”

“Your last five paintings were supposed to be of me,” she said. “Not that they had to be. But you said they were.” She looked in a mirror that hung above their dresser. “I don’t know if you haven’t taken a good look at me recently. But I have long, straight black hair and brown eyes. My skin is pale, and I don’t even have freckles during the summer.” She paused too long for Jack’s comfort, then turned and waited until he looked up at her. “And I’m not a boy, Jack.”

Immediately, tears began to well in his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Darla smiled and wiped the stray tears off his cheek. She kissed his nose and pressed their foreheads together. “I’ve known for a long time, Jack. I just want you to be happy.”

“I really do love you.” Jack said quietly.

“I know you do.” She intertwined their hands and ran her free hand through his hair. “But you’re in love with him.”

[kellyscowboy]

꒰✧ᯇ✦꒱ DON'T BE SORRY FOR LEAVING AND GROWING OLD || ch. 3

ᯇ summary ! ✦ Jack Kelly finally gets out of New York and makes something of himself. Though, he's never been good at goodbyes and David won't answer his letters. || read full thing on ao3 now WRITTEN FOR THE NEWSIES FIC EXCHANGE ᯇ warnings ! ✦ cussing & angst 396 WORDS © 2023 , 𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲

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Jack never got a letter back from David. It had been a year since he wrote the first letter, and he had sent many more since then.

Dear David,

My first letter might have gotten lost. Or maybe you chose not to answer it, and that’s fair. I forgot to mention that I’m married. I am. Her name is Darla. We’re not in love.

I thought I was in love with her. But she knew I wasn’t. I feel bad. I didn’t know I was hurting her.

We still live together. I love her, she loves me. But we’re not in love.

It took me a while to realize it, she realized it far sooner.

If you ever get a chance to see my paintings, you’ll know what I mean.

  Sincerely,

Your Cowboy

Dear David,

My paintings have changed a lot from when you knew me. They’ve changed a lot since I moved out here, too. I think you’d like them.

Tell the boys I’m sorry. They didn’t deserve me. I’m sorry.

You were right. I ruined myself.

  Jack Kelly

Some of his letters were pages long, others had less than five sentences. None of them ever received a response. Darla watched as he deteriorated.

His art had reached its peak. It was showcased in different countries and paintings he sold at local café’s skyrocketed in prices. After a short two years of painting, he decided he was ready to retire.

“Are you sure, Jack?” Darla asked. “Since the first day I met you, this life has been your dream. Are you really ready to give it up?”

“Darla, all this life does is remind me of the one I left behind. I just want to be done with it. It was never worth it.” Jack frowned.

At the grand opening of the Santa Fe Museum: Home of the Cowboy, Jack officially announced his retirement. The halls of the museum were filled with his art, along with works inspired by him and other small artists in their town. His last piece, his kiss goodbye to the world he had longed for, would sit in the middle of the building. It would be illuminated by lights and have a plaque naming the piece ‘an end of an era.’

Jack knew that there was no other way to end his career than with the way he started it.