Four months was a long time to be away from home. Masrur realised this as he departed the ship that had just docked into Sindria's port, legs shaky on the first steady ground he'd felt for weeks.
Four months, he understood as a punch from a certain other general landed on his shoulder, was a long time for the people waiting for you to return home, too. Even longer for the ones who weren't aware you were going anywhere until your ship was no more than a speck on the horizon.
He held his hands up in immediate resignation as Sharrkan continued to hit and kick him halfheartedly, shouting at him because he was thoughtless and a fucking huge prick for leaving like that, and that he should have just gone ahead and drowned while he was at it.
Sinbad and Spartos, who had also been on that ship with him, left unnoticed by the swordsman, although neither could honestly say they were surprised.
He petted Sharrkan's brilliant white hair as he mumbled an apology in-between the abusive lines being hurled at him, not even trying to explain that saying goodbye to his 20 year old senior had been impossible, that he had tried and failed many times to tell him he was leaving before he had actually left, and that he had been miserable and brooding for the first week onboard that ship. Sinbad had helped him by laughing it off, saying it was like he had reverted back to the stroppy young teenager he had once been.
It hurt watching Sharrkan, who refused to speak to him after that, talk to Pisti and Spartos and fool around with them as usual when they were off duty.
It hurt even more when he wasn't invited out drinking with the others that evening, under Sharrkan's explicit orders. He coped with it by shutting himself up in Ja'far's study with the ex-assassin (who had declined going drinking), trying to help him with the vast expenses scrolls for the palace and failing miserably, working himself up into a confusion over the many grids and numbers and cross-references. Ja'far kicked him out after he tore his third scroll by accident.
His pain was relieved late that night as he lay in bed, choosing the comfort of a bed that didn't sway like on the ship as opposed to sleeping outside like he did so often. Sharrkan collapsed into the dark room, drunk, slamming the door shut and stripping before clambering into bed and wrapping himself around the bigger man. He kissed him, stroked his hair and held him tight, calling him all manner of offensive language before apologising for being 'a dick' all day. It turned out that while out drinking, Sinbad and Spartos had told him that Masrur had been 'sulking', as they had put it, after leaving Sindria, and that had been enough to make Sharrkan brighten up considerably.
Masrur held the Heliohaptian as he fell asleep, snoring into the curve of his neck, his arms warm around his chest; he forgave him in an instant for being cold all day.
Four months really was far too long a time to go without his swordsman.