Clutching his upper right arm with his left hand, Philip slumped into his doorway and practically collapsed onto the sofa. Sweat beaded down his face, and his heavy breathing indicated the difficulties he was currently witnessing.
A slight groan of pain escaped him, and he momentarily removed his hand to get a look at the gash implanted into his arm. It was big - much larger than he had expected it to be - and blood aimlessly poured into a pool out of it, slightly staining the couch he rested sluggishly on.
Wincing a little, the Governor dug his teeth into his bottom lip. He knew it would happen sooner or later, but this soon? It was impossible; Woodbury needed a proper leader, and he considered himself quite fit for the role.
The unbearable pain moved from the bite, causing it to course through his entire limp body. By now, he had grown seemingly immobile, and his chest heaved as he attempted to breathe.
Dark pupils began to dilate, and the white in his eyes grew bloodshot and glassy. The grey matter that built up his remaining iris began to fade into a yellowish, sickly colour, and for an instant, he could have sworn, Sarah and Penny were standing by his side, both of them begging for him to follow.
But Milton... the Governor knew he couldn't leave Milton. It wasn't the fact that the researcher seemed to be too weak to protect himself, but merely because he cared about him.
"Milton...!" Philip cried weakly, his voice muffled from pain. As he called, he slid off the now bloodstained sofa and landed with a thud onto the floor.
Not long after the Governor's shriek, Milton came running, his heart racing in sync with his loud footsteps that filled the room. A sickly feeling pierced his stomach when he saw the blood wiped on the back of the sofa, and his pace slowed at the sight of Philip laying lifelessly on the floor. He knew what needed to be done, but he couldn't find it in himself to actually do it.
"Milton," Philip tried sitting upright, but found it impossible. Furrowing his brows in pain, he went on, allowing his head to roll enough to face Milton. "Help me... Please."
"I-I can't," the researcher began timidly, a saddened sensation flushing over him. "I'm sorry, Philip. I'm so, so sorry." Taking a few more steps toward his lover, Milton unholstered the gun that rested in the holster hanging from the Governor's belt, continuing to apologise with no end. Tears rolled down his lightly-red cheeks, and he aimed the beretta at the middle of the Governor's head, his pointer and hand shaking violently. Due to the shaking, Milton felt as though a clean shot would be impossible, but he knew it had to be done.
"I'm sorry," the sheepish one repeated himself once more. "Please, forgive me. I love you." Finally, he pulled back the trigger, putting an end to the man he once loved.
When he realised he had completed the task in which needed to be finished, Milton plopped to his knees and carressed Philip's head in his arms, gently holding him. He began singing, quietly, almost inaudibly:
"You are my sunshine,
My only sunshine.
You make me happy-
When skies are grey.
You'll never know, dear-
How much I loved you.
Mister, please-
Why did you take my sunshine away?"