It seemed to Renly that only a few seconds had passed since the man had left him, but for all he knew it could have been hours. His hands reached out to the empty air that had suddenly appeared in front of him, fingers curling in the darkness towards the promise of silken skin and flushed cheeks. His legs shook, and he slowly lowered himself down onto the wooden staircase, folding his arms atop his bent knees and pressing his face into the crook of his elbow. There he sat, trembling, cursing himself for being so stupid.
Why had Renly agreed to follow him? He could have been robbed at knifepoint, or smashed over the head with a brick, or - kissed, as if this strange man's whole world revolved around Renly. Kissed, as if he was loved.
A few minutes or hours or days later, he picked himself up and climbed the staircase back into the restaurant. He wasn't hungry. He wasn't anything, except numb. He asked for a couple of boxes and packed his meal up to go, but as he turned to leave he caught a scent on the air and froze. Inhaled deeply, sensing something above the smell of fried meat and greasy noodles.
There. The man's cologne. Renly could smell it in the air, on his hands, on his shirt. Proof that he hadn't imagined it all, that an angelic man who claimed to be his was really out there. Somewhere.
Slowly, shakily, Renly slipped out of the restaurant and into the night.