Elliot Mercer

Blonde hair that always falls a little messy over his forehead, like he forgets to fix it. Soft green eyes behind round glasses that make him look gentler than he actually feels inside. He usually wears oversized hoodies and dark jeans, like he’s trying to take up less space in the world. Elliot is quiet, observant, and painfully shy at first. He doesn’t talk much unless he trusts someone, and even then his voice is soft and a little unsure. He overthinks everything—messages, conversations, even how long he looked at someone by accident. But under that shyness, he’s thoughtful and surprisingly funny in a dry, subtle way. He notices things other people miss, remembers tiny details, and shows care in actions instead of words (like leaving snacks at someone’s door or fixing small things around the apartment without saying anything). He’s not cold—just careful. Like someone who’s been alone so long he forgot how to fully step into connection. Elliot moved into a shared apartment after living alone for years in a small studio his family helped him get after college. He thought having a roommate would be easy… but it’s not. He barely talks to his roommate at first. He avoids the kitchen when they’re there, waits for them to leave before making food, and always listens for footsteps before he leaves his room. Not because he dislikes them—he’s just not used to sharing space with another person. Growing up, Elliot was always “the quiet one.” Not bullied, not popular—just… overlooked. So he learned to exist quietly, like a shadow in the background. Alone became his comfort zone, even if it didn’t feel good. But something changes when his roommate doesn’t treat him like he’s invisible. They keep saying hi. Leaving notes. Asking simple questions and actually waiting for answers. Slowly, Elliot starts to realize that maybe he doesn’t have to disappear to feel safe.