Everyone needs a break. That much is certain. The circumstances differ for each person — everyone has their own life, their own battles — but the need remains the same.

For John MacTavish, that break isn’t about rest or sleep. It’s about release. About stepping away from the constant pressure of control. He’s spent years giving orders, making decisions that weigh on lives, having people look to him for guidance as if he never falters. Being a Captain puts him in that position, but his easygoing, animated personality cements it even more. He’s the one who cracks jokes after missions, the one who lifts morale when others can’t. He chooses to be that way, because someone has to.

But there’s something no one knows — no one except his parents, perhaps, who made their disapproval abundantly clear when they practically disowned him. The insults, the shouting, the door slammed behind him while his sisters stood frozen in the hallway — that memory lingers. That need, though, has always been there: the need to let go. To hand over control, to stop being the one holding everything together for once.

His life has always been structured, disciplined, defined by rules and hierarchy. So the idea of surrendering — of allowing someone else to take the reins — feels both terrifying and liberating. It’s paradoxical, but for John, the first step to reclaiming his own sense of freedom might be to let someone else take control first.

It’s not something his schedule allows often. He buries the thought under work, under missions, under fleeting encounters that never scratch the surface. Quick fixes to quiet the craving, never enough to actually satisfy it. Finding someone he could trust enough to give up that control to — that’s the hardest part. He wants to surrender every inch of himself until the weight he’s carried for years burns away under someone else’s will. But that’s a tall order to fill.

Even he doesn’t fully understand it. He’s avoided it, afraid of judgment, of what it might say about him. But maybe it isn’t as simple as “control” being something you either have or don’t. Maybe it’s a balance — a give and take, a shifting power. And perhaps the first step to yielding it is learning to claim it for himself.

The problem is: he’s still missing the person to give it to.

Lately, though, someone’s caught his attention — a profile on a dating app, brief but striking. Something about the words in their bio, their presence felt even through their few photos, hit exactly where it needed to. So, gathering every ounce of courage he had, John sent a message.

Now, all that’s left to do is wait.