Bulletproof season 1

Episode 3: A Beast and his Rose

When Lord Rosewood committed suicide a year ago, Adam didn't bother to clean at all. While he acted as if nothing had changed, she knew better. His letters to her had teardrops and he refused to even mention him. Adam of course occasionally referred to his death as awkward and uncomfortable, the funeral being dark and boring. 

However, He was in pain, much deeper pain than he let on. Slowly, Flume made her way into the hallway, looking at the portraits on the wall. The first few Flume passed, looked normal. Flume noticed a young woman wearing one of those outdated powdered wigs from the 1980s and wrinkled her nose. Pompadour hairstyles had just started becoming popular, although unlike the human realm, some girls decorated it with feathers or would dye the ends of their hair with bright, happy colors such as bubblegum pink. 

It was no doubt Adam's dearly departed mother Lady Gabriella, who died when he was just born. As Flume continued walking, the paintings were even worse. All she could see were portraits of ugly old men, this was clearly before cameras. Flume liked paintings though, although she always found them rather annoying. The ugly old men paintings always made her cringe as she felt they were leering at her. She was close to the West Wing of the castle where the Prince had lived for years. 

As she got closer to Adam's room, she noticed more paintings of Adam. Or at least what was supposed to be Adam. There were several photos of a chubby fair haired blue eyed boy which were covered in large scratches from what appeared to be large claws. 

Adam never looked like that boy since he was an infant and yet, his father would commission paintings of him, pretending his son hadn't turned into a beast and the first twenty one years of life wouldn't be about a bright red rose. On the right wall of the West Wing, Flume finally saw the door to Adam's bedroom.

She looked around carefully making sure nobody had seen her. Flume wasn't allowed for two reasons: Adam's fatal temper and the fact that she was a sixteen year old girl. Flume didn't know why they were being cautious, after all, Adam and her had been best friends since that trip to the Lost Kingdom. She didn't believe he'd hurt her. Besides, Flume knew how to use a sword. 

Flume quietly knocked on the door three times before pausing and repeated the action. Finally, she heard heavy footsteps and heard his voice mumbling "Coming, F."

The door opened to show the beast himself dressed in a simple woolen shirt and black pants. "Did you bring the pizza?", he said excitedly.

Flume rolled her eyes. "Keep your voice down. Nobody knows about my trips there with Maleficent, not even Pan. And no, I couldn't risk it."

Adam scratches his furry mane, his blue eyes scrunched in confusion. "It's not illegal. You're in Neverland, an independent. Besides, Maleficent opens the portal herself-"

"Shhhh", hissed Flume before shoving him into the room, slamming the door behind them so no one would hear. Adam's bedroom was unusually spacious and not exactly the cleanest room. The bed was unmade and lived in, books were messily placed on his nightstand, next to his acoustic guitar  and pictures were all over the wall and the floor. She noticed that a few of his bed curtains were torn, probably due to something that angered him. He always did like to take his anger out on the furniture. It never fazed her though. 

Adam was always a fan of pictures rather than portraits. The most untouched area was his terrace where the frost covered glass sat on a chair, shielding a dark red rose glowing merrily. She knew he hated that rose and didn't like touching it, let alone being anywhere near it. However, she also wondered why he placed it in his room in the first place. 

After all, that rose reminded him why he was locked in the castle in the first place. Even if she were in his shoes, she wouldn't be anywhere near that horrible flower. Once she asked him that very question, he simply shrugged and simply said he was trying to keep track of time.