I love writing dysfunctional families that love each other (Bollards) and how the boys would treat each other in such an environment as the early 1900s.

RDR © Rockstar Gaming.


1920

He hadn't meant to scare the child, not this child. Not the child of his best friend - his best friend who had died before ever even meeting his son - but he had and now the shy son of his best friend was shaken and avoiding him, hiding underneath the kitchen counter while staring nervously at Julius. And all because he had overreacted to a sound in the middle of the night from the kitchen that had woken him from his sleep, a sound that had turned out to be the child looking for food.

"Harry..." Julius looked at the young child, a feeling of frustration wiggling into his heart as the dark haired child ducked even further from him beneath the kitchen counter. "Hey, it's okay. I was just scared, that's the only reason I had my shotgun. Please… I would never hurt you."

The child watched him, bright blue eyes snapping to the hand Julius had slowly snaked towards the child then back to his face, nervousness reflected in Harry's eyes.

"It's okay… I wasn't going to hurt you, child. Please come out from there? Please?" Julius asked again, unable to hide the irritation that had snuck into his voice as the child continued to refuse to budge from where he was huddled.

Julius sighed and gestured silently for the young boy to come to him but, with a shake of his head and a very soft "no", the child again refused him. Julius narrowed his eyes at the child and gestured for the child to come to him again, this time unable to hide the anger rippling through his body.

"Harry," Julius snapped, "get out from under there. I don't have all night for this game. Get out from under the counter and come here. You need to sleep."

Harry's soft eyes widened at Julius' angered order, fear coursing over his face as the young dark red haired child scrambled backwards from Julius, cornered like a cat underneath the counter. Julius narrowed his eyes - he had never liked games, and found it even more aggravating when people did not listen to him and directly disobeyed him, even if it was a young five year old child.

"Now, Harry," Julius hissed, his tone cold and ruthless as he stared the child down and gestured to the child to join Julius at his side again. "Now."

Harry let out a soft sound, almost a squeak, of fear and scrambled his back to the wall he had pressed himself against, head shaking as Julius continued to stare him down. Julius snarled and slammed a fist into the counter, anger - he did not like being disobeyed - clawing at his chest as Harry continued to refuse his orders.

"You will listen to me Harry, or else I will have to punish you! I do not tolerate disobedience in my house and you are disobeying me. Now get out from under the counter or I will pull you out!"

The young child gasped at Julius' threat, his soft blue eyes widening in terror as small, pathetic squeaks escaped his mouth. "D-dad-

"Silence! You will listen to me, Harry, and come out from there!" Julius roared - he was angry but also scared because he had almost killed this young child only minutes ago - his frustration climaxing into the rage and anger he projected towards the child.

"I will not-" Before Julius could continue his angered tirade a weak sound from the young child stopped him mid-sentence.

"I'm scared," Harry squeaked, his posture curling into a fearful submission to Julius' rage; the child had ducked his gaze away from Julius, unwilling to make eye contact with Julius, his shoulder turned to Julius and he was shaking, never once looking at Julius.

A posture identical to his father, to Julius's best friend, Harry, whom his son had been named after. He'd seen the submissive posture from Harry whenever anyone from the Bollard Twins Gang - Julius felt that familiar ache of longing in his chest every time he thought of the team, his family, that had been shattered and swept away to who knows where - had turned their anger on him. Harry would look away, leaving his blind side to his team as everyone of the Bollards would rag on the man they had all called their leader, Harry never once fighting back against his team's anger as they blamed him for everything that went wrong with the team. One of their own injured, even if by their own fault? Harry's fault. A hard, merciless winter where they lacked food and nearly starved? Harry's fault for poor planning and preparation. And Harry would take the blame without question or argument - always quietly saying he was at fault, even when he wasn't - and no one in the team had ever questioned it. Harry had always seemed so easy to vent their frustrations and anger on, as he never once complained or said anything in his own defense; the only thing Harry would ever say was a hushed apology after each member finished venting their anger onto Harry's broad shoulders, as if Harry believed everyone's anger towards him was justified and he deserved their anger.

Now all Julius could see now as he thought back to his friend was how submissive - weak… that was how everyone had seen Harry - Harry always was to his team, accepting everything wrong as his fault, and how he never seemed to vent his own frustrations on anyone as they did on Harry. Harry only cared about our - his team's - needs, never his own. He wasn't weak… just… afraid of what he assumed we would do if there wasn't someone so easy to blame as he gave us. All he ever talked about was how 'he had let down the team', how it was his 'fault' for everything bad that happened to us. Why though?

Julius still could not understand the reason Harry had always been so quiet and quick to shoulder all of the team's problems, and he never would… He could never talk to his best friend again, nor see how Harry's eye would brighten with a cautious hope whenever someone complimented him or even just said a cheery 'hello' to him. Never again would Julius hear Harry's high laugh as the team sat around a campfire, or see how Harry seemed much younger than he was the very few times a soft, hesitant smile would curve at the corner of Harry's mouth. Julius - and his team, wherever they had all scattered to - would never see their Harry, hear his soft, reassuring teasing, and never again would Julius get to wrap his arms around his best friend and give Harry a quiet hug.

Guilt, anger, frustration and sadness waged war inside Julius as he watched Harry's son shiver in the corner underneath the counter, the exact posture his father had adopted whenever someone in the gang had turned their anger on him. And it was all because Julius had shoved his sawed-off shotgun against the child's stomach as he had been harmlessly rooting for food in the cabinet above the stove.

"Harry…" Julius was surprised by the soft nervousness that came from him, his gruff voice unused to such a different tone of voice - almost as much as Julius was unaccustomed to hearing genuine softness from himself.

Harry looked up at Julius nervously as he said his name, his blue eyes darting to Julius' face than averting to the ground again in a nervous, submissive gesture.

"Hey… Harry… child? I really am sorry I scared you. I- I was scared too. I thought somebody had come inside here, I thought they could have had intentions to hurt you. I was just scared. I love you and I would never hurt you. Ever."

Harry watched Julius for a little longer than slowly began to move, his gaze still averted from Julius as he wrenched at his hands nervously and ducked his head even tighter against his chest, the young child finally emerging out from under the counter. Harry looked at Julius then whispered a very shaky apology before he averted his gaze again and turned his head away from Julius. Julius stifled the rush of pain choking at his throat and eyes as the young child mimicked his father's submissive posture, shoulders tucking into himself as the young child nervously glanced at Julius and then the ground, and all because Julius had no ability to control his temper.

"Harry- son," Julius whispered as he gently, softly - nervously - picked Harry up and turned the young child's face towards his, glancing down into Harry's bright blue eyes, "I'm sorry. I made a mistake and I scared you. I should not have snapped at you… you were just scared, and I never want to scare you - to harm you. I love you, son, I want you to know that. Please?"

Harry looked up at him slowly as Julius spoke, his eyes judging for a moment before he spoke in the soft, gentle tone the child always had. "I love you too, Dad."

Julius pulled the child into a tight hug against his chest, tears streaming down his face as he felt Harry's small, delicate arms wrap around Julius's chest and the strange feeling of the young child burying his face against Julius's chest. Slowly, Julius brushed one hand down the child's back, muttering quiet sounds of reassurance as Harry shifted ever tighter against Julius's chest.

Julius would not - could not - hurt this child - the only thing that remained of his best friend - not like how he and the rest of the team had so obviously ignored the pain and stress of their Harry when they had turned their unwarranted and unjustified anger onto the man whom they had never themselves listened to. Julius regretted only now realizing and seeing how much hurt their - his - Harry had been under until the day he died, how every moment he spent with his team made Harry feel like he had to do everything to care for them… even if it meant putting the strain of their anger and hatred, their zealous denial of their own faults, onto Harry. None of them had ever even asked Harry how he was feeling, even if Harry was more subdued in his words and actions around them than was normal for Harry, or if somebody caught him curled tight into himself, pain etched over his face and in his voice. None of the team had ever noticed when Harry was feeling down or upset - Julius knew it was because they never even thought that Harry could be anything but a willing verbal punching for his team - and yet Harry had noticed their pain and anger every single time and would always open himself to their's so they could place blame on anyone but on themselves.

Harry loved us so much, he feared he'd lose us. He must have thought doing what he did, absorbing everyone's pain and anger, taking blame for everything, apologizing for everything that went even remotely wrong with the team, he could think of nothing else to do but that. I should have seen his agony as he saw ours… but it's too late. I can never apologize for how I treated my best friend, but I at least can try and make it up to him by taking care of his son.

Julius looked down at the child - a younger, shyer, near-spitting image of his father - and gently ran one hand through the child's dark red hair before he pulled the child close to his chest and buried his face into Harry's soft hair. "I love you, Harry."

Both of you.


The more time one spends with the boys (my nickname for the Bollards), the more you will see how deep each character's personality and quirks goes. I tried to show a side of Harry that only is shown occasionally through his quotes in this drabble.

This is a version of my post-1914 Red Dead Redemption universe where the Bollards were sieged and scattered in January of 1915. Harry died in this attack and everyone else made it out alive (Harry sacrificed himself to get time for his friends to escape from the lawmen's assault), and eventually Julius ran into a woman who explained that she and Harry had been in a relationship before he'd died and she'd had a child. She died when little Harry was two and so Julius took the child in and raised him as his own son. He loves the child but has had no experience with caring for one so young and delicate as young Harry, so Julius makes mistakes in how he treats the child often.