Work Text:
Growing distance, free of explanation
We’re getting deeper in this mess
Take careful contemplation
I'd rather be spittin' blood
Than have this silence fuck me up
This separation, time and space between us
For some revelation
You didn't care to discuss
I'd rather be black and blue
Than accept that you withdrew
[Chorus]
Aaah, just tell me
Say anything
Anything hurts less than the quiet
Just tell me
Say anything
Anything hurts less than the quiet
Used to give each other the world, every bit
Used to be the one you'd come to
When it'd all go to shit
Now I'm left here in the dust
With the taste of broken trust
And I don't wanna walk away
But you left me no choice
Only talking to myself here
Now you've muffled your voice
I'd rather have broken bones
Than feel myself turn to stone
[Chorus]
[Bridge]
I don't mind that I know that you're wrong
I don't mind that you think you're right
All I want is a fight to fight
Anything but quiet
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He looks like death when he returns. Furiosa can tell he couldn’t find whatever he was looking for out in the Wastes.
That night when they lie in bed curled around each other like they have done thousands of times, she can’t stop herself when she says she missed him. She doesn’t, or rather, she can’t, lie to him, or to herself. She had hoped maybe that was what he wanted to hear, but his face almost crumples in on itself. She’s made a mistake. He hasn’t even been back for a day and already she can tell he won’t be there when she wakes up. She tries not to hope that he will be there in the morning; as he had said, hope was a mistake.
Furiosa doesn’t notice him leave but she does notice the cold space in the bed in the morning.
As she sits at the lookout post, staring out into the open and silent expanse of the Wasteland, it’s suddenly too much. She is so frustrated that she can’t help him. That he won’t let her. But at the same time she understands. She knows how difficult it can be to make yourself vulnerable, even with someone you trust completely.
But even though she understands she can’t control how angry she feels. It isn’t even anger at his leaving, but anger at the idea that she doesn’t know where he is, doesn’t know if he’s ok. She imagines him dying in a myriad of ways, but never truly knowing. That is what makes her mad. She will never know.
She feels tense and fidgety. The silence, which surrounds her, seems to press into her mind. Too much quiet. She hates the quiet. She’s used to noises of humans, machines, water. Anything but quiet.
Right now all she wants is a distraction. She thinks maybe fighting or sparring with someone would be a good option, but there is no one in the Citadel who would willingly do it with her; they’re too scared of hurting her. But she aches for the physical exertion, thinks it will help her feel better. She thinks back to the day she fought Max. She would rather do that again than sit here thinking about ways he could be dying, or that he might never be coming back.
She makes it through her watch, but the second someone comes to replace her she is off, walking at a brisk pace through the Citadel. She needs to talk to someone, and the first person she comes across is Capable, who is helping out with tidying up the bunkrooms for the pups. She is glad it is Capable; she has a level head and always seems to give the best advice. Capable doesn’t also doesn’t pry, or ask for more information than she is given, which Furiosa is grateful for.
She doesn’t say much except “maybe you need to trust him more.”
This only serves to make Furiosa angrier. She does trust him, she tells herself. But after thinking this over she realises that maybe she has placed her trust in him being there for her, but she hasn’t placed trust in his decisions about himself. The look on his face that night doesn’t really fill her with confidence. He didn’t look like he could make any responsible decisions. He wasn’t in the right frame of mind when he left and she realises that her anger is misplaced, she is worried more than anything. He isn’t invincible, no matter how lucky he has been. He could make one tiny mistake and be dead in a second.
She wishes now that there was some way for them to communicate while he was gone. This silence between them is too much.
She fills her days with work now. Any way to avoid the quiet that pervades her mind when he is gone. Anything to distract her from the ways she imagines him dying when she closes her eyes.
She can do nothing but wait.