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Kaji was not jealous.
That was not what the emotion was that was tearing his stomach apart. Jealousy was something he didn't recognize easily, in fact, he wasn't even sure he'd felt the emotion before. He'd seen it on Sako's face before a few times when he looked at HIragi. But this feeling - no he recognized this feeling all too well.
It was anger.
Not even that, anger was too simple a word. It was rage. It was the sparks.
It wasn't as simple as the usual moments he lost himself to the beast within, to the feral pent-up anger that hit him whenever things get too much. This built over time, little flickers of a lightning storm behind his eyes that he couldn't quite place at first.
It all started about three or four weeks prior. Kusumi had been ditching their patrols early - not so much the patrol itself, but the final half hour where the trio usually walked each other home. Kusumi would leave and go off on his own, away from his path home. Kaji hadn't seemed bothered by it initially but then it became a recurring event and he eventually asked Enomoto. Kusumi himself seemed too nervous to say anything, like he purposefully dodged any suggestion of Kaji's curiosity before the blonde could even ask. Enomoto told Kaji that Kusumi had been going off to Keisei Street on the regular. But he didn't know why.
Kaji worried almost immediately. What did Kusumi need over on Keisei Street? And maybe there was the faintest amount of hurt in his chest - that Kusumi wanted to hide whatever was going on. But he shoved that down, away from the surface of his thoughts, and tried to pretend that it was okay.
Kusumi seemed to grow more distant. He had never been an entirely open book to Kaji or anything, but he'd been close. Always there. But steadily, it was like Kusumi was drifting downstream, away from him. Kaji felt a slight panic, he was afraid he was going to reach out and Kusumi wasn't going to be there when he looked up.
He saw them together for the first time about a week later, gaze glancing out the window of the second floor classroom. Kusumi was late. A taller, well-dressed man - notably not wearing a Furin jacket - was hovering at the entry to the school with Kusumi. His vice-captain was clinging to the stranger's hand, tugging almost playfully, a familiar thing to Kaji. But there was a coldness to the stranger's demeanor that made Kaji shudder. Who could look at that display from Kusumi and not soften? Kaji had looked away then. Perhaps he should've kept watch a little longer. Perhaps then it wouldn't have gone on so long.
Kusumi wasn't smiling when he entered the classroom. But Kaji just chalked it up to him continuing to hide the relationship and said nothing. Perhaps he should have.
He noticed the bruises a few days later.
Kusumi had always been more inclined towards bulkier, bigger clothes. A comfort thing. Now it seemed more like a defense, a cage, a fence that locked Kaji out. There had been a fight a few days prior with some random delinquents so it wouldn't seem abnormal for Kusumi to be sporting some bruises. But Kaji...Kaji remembered the stranger. The coldness. And when he reached out for Kusumi, he noticed the bruises on his wrist. Noticed the way Kusumi snapped back in a way he had never done before.
No street fight caused that.
The sparks started then. Faint. Unsure. But there....Kaji had never run into this kind of situation. And he couldn't admit that he really didn't know what to do. But he wasn't sure he wanted to bring Kusumi's private business to the upperclassmen either. So he wallowed and he was moodier than usual that week. Kusumi continued to hide small bruises that Kaji noticed when no one else was looking.
Another street fight. Enomoto didn't even question the black eye that was hidden behind their friend's bangs. Kaji did. Kaji had been near Kusumi during the entire brawl. No one had struck him in the face. Not then.
The sparks almost blinded him entirely right then and there. He had to step out of the classroom, turning his music up five more levels beyond his usual, leaning his head against the wall and trying so hard not to lose it.
Kusumi followed. Worried. About him. He didn't understand.
Kaji looked at him, trying to peer through his bangs. He reached out, so careful, so gentle, reaching through the rage and pain warring inside of him like Kusumi had done for him a dozen times before. Kusumi tensed, but didn't pull away as Kaji brushed his bangs away from his eyes. Kaji held his gaze for several moments, silent, rolling his lollipop nervously. He didn't trust himself to speak, but he didn't trust his eyes to say enough.
"Kusumi...."
He didn't say: I want to kill him. I'm going to kill him. He's dead.
He said: "I know."
Kusumi blinked. Once. Twice.
He pulled away, letting his curtain of hair hide the emotion spreading across his features. Kaji couldn't tell if it was embarrassment or pain. Kaji looked down, fist clenching at his side.
He didn't ask why. He didn't blame the other. He simply sighed.
"I..."
He didn't say: I love you.
He said: "Let me - us - help you."
Kaji was looking at his feet, scared, shaking with rage and anxiety. Kusumi's phone appeared in his vision.
Please.
Kaji almost broke, seeing the singular word - no emojis. An empty, pained request from one of his closest friends, but he nodded calmly instead, looking up and reaching out to take Kusumi's hand. Kusumi hesitated, and there was a moment of obvious shock, but then he tightened their fingers together.
"Okay. Okay, Kusumi. It's over."
He didn't say: He won't hurt you again.
He said: "It's going to be okay."