The barrel of the shotgun pressed against his chest, resting right above his heart.
"Take it easy, now," Francis said in a hushed tone, "don't do anything.. dangerous."
A raspy growl escaped the hunter.
The gun in his hands shook as blood seeped out of the wound in his side. His heart felt forced to pump the blood.
"Just put the gun down, Hunter."
His hands were up to show that he was defenseless and all he wanted to do was talk to his friend.
The hunter's position didn't change. What Francis said didn't effect him in any way it seemed.
A soft cry could be heard.
Francis stood still for a moment, scared that there might be a witch nearby.
The gun fell from the hunter's hands and he inched cautiously over to Francis.
Francis let out a sigh, "Come here," he stretched out his arms, "it's okay."
Balling up his fists, so that his claws don't hurt Francis, he wrapped his arms around his old friend as tears rolled down.
"Yeah.. there we go," giving the infected a firm hug, "I've missed you, Hunter.."
Hunter slowly rested his head on Francis' chest, almost like he was trying to remember how to show affection. A gentle pat was given on his back.
He cupped Hunter's head and planted a kiss on his forehead.
"I'm sorry it came to this.." Francis choked out, as he reached for his pistol, "I really am.."
Hunter felt a warm feeling in his chest, just like it was when he first met Francis.
All that they've been through. Both together and apart..
One journey needed to be ended here.
Hunter struggled to say,
"I love you, Francis.."
Those were his last words.
After that, Francis held his past lover's infected body close to him. Crying into the nook of his shoulder.