I wanted a boyfriend not a sea goblin with boots
It was supposed to be just another night.
Rain tapping soft against the window, my hoodie three days deep in emotional support duty, and a heart that felt too heavy to carry into another week. I lit a candle for no reason. Put on a sad playlist I pretended not to love. And opened the journal I only write in when I don’t know how to explain the things I feel.
I didn’t mean it.
I just wrote:
“He’d be the kind of boy who smells like saltwater and storm. The kind of boy who’s seen a thousand sunsets from the edge of the world. A pirate, maybe. Or something just as untamed. Not too perfect. Just wild. And warm. And mine.”
I even added:
“He’d call me Captain, just to be annoying.”
Then I laughed. Closed the journal. Turned off the light.
And I swear on my last three brain cells, I woke up to the sound of waves.
Real waves.
There was wind in my room. Not a breeze — wind. Like something had opened a hole in the sky and let the ocean in.
And then I saw him.
Standing like a movie mistake at the foot of my bed. Boots soaked. Hair dripping. Coat clinging to him like he just walked through a thunderstorm made of secrets. His eyes were stormy-like, literally, a dark grey that flickered when he blinked.
He looked at me like I was the one trespassing.
Right..., he said, tipping an imaginary hat. So… where exactly am I, Captain?
Captain.
Excuse me?
I sat up so fast I headbutted my pillow. Who are you and how did you get in here?
Bit rude, he muttered, eyeing my bookshelf like it was treasure. You write me into existence, then act like I’m the intruder?
I stared. He winked.
I reached for my phone. It wasn’t there.
Back pocket, he said, tapping his temple. You tucked it there before you fell asleep.
I checked.
It was there.
I screamed.
He winced. Alright, Captain, no need to summon sea witches. I mean you no harm.
Stop calling me Captain!
He shrugged. That’s what you wrote.
I froze.
My eyes darted to the bed, my journal was still there. Open. The page from last night? Empty.
The ink, the words, the stupid fantasy paragraph I never meant to mean, gone!
You’re… not real, I whispered.
He looked offended. That’s very hurtful. I’ve been real for, what he checked an invisible watch for sixteen minutes now. And I’ve already saved your pet plant from overwatering.
I blinked. You what?
He pointed to my desk. It was drowning. Poor thing. Fixed it.
I didn’t know whether to cry, faint, or throw my slipper at him.
Right, I said slowly. So let me get this straight. You came from… my journal?
He nodded like it was obvious. You summoned me. That’s how magic works where I’m from. Paper holds power.
And where exactly is that?
He grinned. The high seas, of course.
Of course.
And now what? I asked, crossing my arms.
Now, he said, walking toward the door and peering out into the hallway, we fix this ship.
That’s not a ship. That’s my hallway.
Looks unstable.
That’s my grandma’s old painting leaning sideways.
He turned, suddenly serious. Captain, if I’m here, it means the magic that binds us is still open. Which means…..
I waited.
…other things might start slipping through.
I blinked. Other things?
He smiled like it wasn’t terrifying. Well. You didn’t write me alone, did you?
