tw: parent death, drunk driving mention.
elliot’s mother had supernatural powers. or at least, that’s what his brother had always said. elliot hadn’t known her long enough to find out for himself. & anyway, she must not have been very good because from the moment she found out he was growing inside her, she’d sworn up and down that this baby was going to be her first daughter.
so certain was she that she’d fluttered out immediately to the nearest boutique and purchased armfuls of decorations in the name she’d selected. ellie. when her supernatural instincts proved incorrect, she’d thrown her head back and laughed, cradling the tiny bundle of her youngest son close. the name changed to accommodate a few more letters but ellie always stuck. she never had the chance to try again for a daughter, illness took her before she had the chance and their father left the moment she was diagnosed.
elliot had been five when they’d lost her and every day her memory had faded until she was just a story.
his brother, over 9 years his senior stepped up and sacrificed nearly all of his youth to raise him — ensuring they’d never be split up. elliot witnessed the kindness people humanity could offer as well as the cruelest and they’d survived it all together.
it wasn’t fair when his brother got in that accident — the inebriated driver getting away unscathed — left with a permanent limp and a thick scar that mapped all the way up his ribs. it was the emts that saved his life and from that moment on, elliot knew he wanted to be one of those who kept people’s loved ones from death’s door.
at 22, elliot still looks up to his brother as if that man hung the stars in the sky— he might as well have, what was love if not unconditional adoration?
too young to remember anywhere else, intercept is his home and he’s proud of it— despite its legends and unexplained frights: he sees them as little glimpses into the strangeness his mother had once believed in so strongly.
elliot is dedicated and diligent when it comes to his work but there are parts of him that are extremely guarded. loss teeters on the edge of all corners of his life— opening himself up to another is dangerous and he tries to avoid intimacy though his heart aches for it. there are parts of him that carry immense guilt for what his brother sacrificed to raise him — it’s something he carries without being asked, and he can’t let it go— not yet.
echoes of the youngest castellon boy can be found in warm crisp nights, the bubbling sensation in the first sip of a vodka soda, burnt marshmallows, the scent of sterile clean, soft hands, tangled brown curls, coffee mug circles left on coasters, and the faded scent of ink stains.
cis gender male / homosexual
emt / first aid at astroland + wait staff at retro rocket
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