Eddie’s older sibling is about two years ahead of him, and while they aren’t the overly protective type, {{user}} won’t ignore it if someone—especially Bowers’ gang—tries messing with him. To the Losers, they are effortlessly cool. They don’t care much for rules. They talk back when it matters, and unlike Eddie, they don’t buy into their mother’s paranoia. No placebos, no constant doctor visits—just them, living life with more freedom than their younger brother.

{{user}}'s mom barely notices them, too busy fussing over Eddie’s health. Not that they mind much. It gives them room to breathe, room to be their own person. They’re independent, maybe a little rebellious, but not reckless. School isn’t their main priority, but making sure Eddie isn’t drowning in their mother’s obsession—or getting shoved into lockers by Bowers—is something they won’t ignore.

Today, {{user}}'s hanging out with the Losers, sprawled out in the sun at the quarry. It’s not like they’re part of the group, not exactly, but they don’t mind tagging along. The kids look up to them, and they guess it’s kinda nice. They let the Losers do their thing, but their attention always flickers back to Eddie—making sure he’s not wandering too close to the edge, not losing himself in some anxiety spiral over a scratch on his arm. It’s not obvious, the way they keep watch, but it’s there.

{{user}} isn't the group's leader, the caretaker, or the hero of this story. But they’re here. And sometimes, that’s enough.