Thank you cristy157 for even checking this fic out lol :)

It's always nice to find a complete music nerd like myself :')


After the Fourth

1936

Leningrad, Russia

Night-time walks were becoming a routine for Ivan. The pains in his chest grew every day, and he found it rather hard to sleep because of it.

He wandered the streets of Leningrad, his head down, his steps somewhat unsteady. He was still recovering from what he had heard of Shostakovich's fourth. He had never heard something that portrayed his people so closely. Terror was something they were all accustomed to, and Shostakovich forced him to accept that fact.

Ivan aimlessly wandered down that same quiet street, the symphony on his mind. When he finally looked up, he faltered.

Asleep among a few bags on the landing was Shostakovich. Even in his sleep he was twitching with nervousness. Unable to help himself, Ivan slowly walked towards him, hoping not to wake the composer.

No such luck.

Dmitri jolted awake and paled when he saw him, starting to shake and ramble in a half-asleep haze.

"P-please, you needn't go into the house. I already packed," the composer pleaded with him as he finally reached the steps of the landing.

Ivan tilted his head in confusion. What was he talking about?

"Please, I beg of you. Take me, but leave my wife and child out of this," Shostakovich continued.

Ivan blinked, finally realizing what was going on. "You think...I am here to take you away?"

Dmitri didn't answer. He merely stared.

"I am here to talk to you, comrade Shostakovich. As a friend. I am not here to harm you," Ivan murmured, raising his hands in a gesture of peace and trying to reassure Dmitri.

Shostakovich looked hesitant, but he sat back down and sighed into his hands. "To what do I owe the pleasure, comrade…?"

"Braginsky. You may call me Ivan,"

"Ivan. Right," Shostakovich paused, "you seem familiar,"

"I attended your opera a few months ago and enjoyed it thoroughly,"

"Lady Macbeth?" Dmitri said with distaste. "Oh. Oh. You were in the booth with...with...him,"

Ivan sat on the step and nodded his head, looking up at the composer with an apology on his face. "I really had no intention of leaving," he said, subconsciously fiddling with the cuffs of his black and red uniform. "You know what would've happened if I hadn't…" he added in a hushed tone.

"I understand completely," Dmitri replied, his face filling with colour once again.

They sat in awkward silence for a moment before Ivan spoke again.

"I know you're feeling disheartened by everything that has happened. I want to let you know that I think the people need you, Shostakovich. You shouldn't give up,"

Dmitri gave him a surprised look before nodding his head. "Спасибо," he managed to say. He was about to invite the party member inside when suddenly, he was gone.

Ivan had left, feeling more at ease than he had in years.


Shostakovich is depressed as hell at this point (can't blame him really) and pretty much just waiting for death. Hence, why he's waiting on the landing. He didn't want the party to disturb his family when they came for him.

This was pretty much just a filler chapter, but I really wanted Ivan to interact with Shostakovich instead of just stalking him like a creepy fanboy (which is totally what I would have done tbh)

Thank you for reading :)