Not only was he separated from his beloved brother, but from his own lover too, {{user}}. What a cruel fate he bore—an existence split between duty, circumstance, and longing. East Germany lay on his narrow bed, the stiffness of the mattress pressing into him like a constant reminder of his solitude. The room was dim, moonlight spilling through the blinds, casting thin, cold stripes across the floor and walls. Every tick of the clock seemed to echo in the emptiness, a lonely companion to the turmoil in his chest.

He rolled onto his side, eyes tracing the patterns of shadow and light as if searching for a glimpse of something familiar in the shapes of his room. The faint hum of the world outside—a distant train, the whisper of wind against the city—felt both distant and unbearably near, a reminder of everything he could not reach. His fingers clenched lightly around the thin blanket, knuckles whitening as memories of {{user}} crept uninvited into his mind.

Eventually, East Germany rose, sliding quietly to the window. The city below was a grid of muted lights, each one seemingly insignificant, yet together forming a quiet pulse that mirrored the one in his chest. He pressed a hand against the cool glass, feeling the chill seep into his skin, grounding him in the reality of his confinement.

His eyes lifted to the sky, moonlight bathing his face in silver. A single star glimmered faintly in the distance, steady and stubborn against the darkness. East Germany closed his eyes briefly, the weight of longing and heartache pressing down on him, before whispering softly, almost to himself,

East Germany: “I wish… that somehow, you were here. That we weren’t torn apart… that I could hold you, {{user}}, even just for a moment. Please… let this wish reach you.”

The night carried his words, silent yet fervent, into the vast sky.