Hatchetfield.

Foxglove

Foxglove: Insincerity

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"You could at least try to sound sincere."

Emma sighed, halting mid-song to listen to her boyfriend, the imaginary instruments she was hearing slowly fading out.

He frowned, "Em, you're acting like this is a chore to you. You're heart just doesn't seem to be in it."

"Paul, not all of us can be The Hive's poster boy! You know I love you, but sometimes all of this is just-" she paused to search for the right word, "exhausting."

"Emma, I'm sorry to break it to you, but you don't really have a choice."

She sighed. "Do you remember when I told you about my sister, and how she was the 'perfect one', so naturally I was the opposite? It's like that with you and me, one of us has to be the bad one, and it certainly isn't you."

Paul grabbed Emma's hand, "it doesn't have to be like for you anymore, we're all connected now, there is no good or bad, just us. If you suffer, so do the rest of us."

She squeezed his hand, "look, I do the singing and dancing when it's all of us, I participate. I just can't always preform a huge soliloquy whenever I burn my toast-" He started to say something but she cut him off. "I know I'm over exaggerating, but you get what I'm trying to say, right?"

Paul nodded, and kissed a blue scar on her cheek- one of the many injuries she sustained from the helicopter crash- and in turn she kissed a patch on his palm that was burned from the explosion. This was their way of saying I love you, a way for them to remind each other that after all they've been through, they're still here.

"Do you want to go put on The Great British Bake Off while I make some popcorn?" Paul asked gently.

Emma nodded, a small smile creeping onto her face, "Yeah, I'd like that."

And when Paul started singing a love song, it's possible that Emma hummed along.