The following is an excerpt from The Loop: Where Desire Becomes Data.

PROLOGUE

Derek stood in the kitchen, listening to the house settle. The tumbler Brandon used still sat on the counter, untouched. Derek hadn’t moved it. He told himself it was practical—that he would pick it up when Brandon came back. The silence didn’t feel final.

“Artemis,” he said quietly. “Play back Brandon’s last message.”

I just need a little space. I’m not disappearing.

Derek let it finish. Then played it again.

The words didn’t change. The tone didn’t change. That same softness at the end, careful, intentional—meant to reassure.

It didn’t.

Three months had passed since they last saw each other. Their final night had been controlled. Measured. Everything said indirectly. Everything held back.

At the door, Brandon had kissed him softly, unhurried and not hesitant. Familiar in a way that made it worse. He lingered just long enough to leave something behind.

Something that didn’t leave.

The penthouse still held his scent: citrus, clean linen, the quiet weight of presence that hadn’t faded. His hoodie was draped over the chair in the bedroom. Derek hadn’t touched it.

He stepped toward it, then stopped.

Don’t push.

He knew that rule. Pressure didn’t bring Brandon closer. It made him disappear.

Space wasn’t leaving. That’s what Brandon had said.

Derek wanted to believe it.

The toothbrush was still there. The shampoo. Small, ordinary proof of continuity.

And still, something in his chest tightened, like he had missed a step and only now felt the drop.

He checked the time.

Too early to message. Too late to pretend he didn’t want to.

He sat at the counter, hands folded, jaw set. He wasn’t helpless. Just… holding. Waiting.

Whatever Brandon was doing, wherever he was, Derek stayed exactly where he was, balanced between patience and need, between trust and the quiet fear that nothing would change.

Continue reading The Loop…