It's taken several apologetic phone calls and more sappy texts than he cares to count, but on Wednesday his ex has agreed to let him take her out for coffee, just to see each other, at the very least. One guess as to where he's taking her.

Yup.

Kisumi's had enough catastrophic relationships that he can easily recognise Makoto's awkward stance and nervous sweat as the traits of a guy in the shit. He gives the very familiar, familiar enough that he's damn sure he's met her before, young woman a welcoming smile, and Makoto steps up to introduce her.

"Kisumi, this is Kou," he smiles, proud, "my… uh… well, what would you like?" he's shuffling, confidence buckling, lost in the void and afraid to put a label on their relationship.

She's quite sweet and bright, even if she does seem a little uncomfortable. "A cappuccino, please. And… one of these brownies?"

Makoto breaks into a smile. "My friend makes these. He's the best baker," and Kisumi is absolutely forcing his face to stay professional, feeling endlessly proud of Haru, hearing Makoto's praise.

They sit off into a corner, and it's during that odd after-lunch lull on a Saturday. Kisumi's already done the dishes, and it's not that he wants to hoard Makoto all to himself, but… he's accustomed to his company. He's warm and kind and even if he is completely straight, not to mention out of Kisumi's league to boot, he's still nothing short of nice to look at.

Things don't seem to be going too great on Makoto's end, though…

"I'm sorry," Kou says, quietly, and Kisumi looks to the window to pretend he can't hear. "But you're just too… safe."

"Safe…" Makoto repeats, sort of like a question but mostly in blind acceptance. "And that's…?"

"Boring," Kou surmises with a shrug, and pushes her plate away a little. "I'm sorry… I'm going to go. I'm viewing an apartment."

Makoto nods solemnly and watches her pass by the window, with the smallest of waves. He grunts, annoyed more with himself than anything, and slumps his head into the table.

Kisumi delivers a fresh drink and a pat on the shoulder.

"Not going well?" he asks, uselessly, rubbing little circles.

"I just didn't want to give up…" Makoto shrugs.

This isn't exactly Kisumi's forte. He's dealt with the results of one of Haru and Rin's blow outs plenty of times, and always driven Haru home in time for some make up making out before he has to go to work, but this… this is different.

"Plenty of fish, and all that," he tries to smile.

And he is completely saved by the bell, or more accurately the chime of the door, and glances up to see Haru looking a little concerned over Makoto's crumpled state. "I'll let Haru take over," he smiles.

Haru burns a harsh look into him, because what's he supposed to do about… whatever this is. Kisumi pushes a glass of tea into his hands and mumbles something about a failed make-up date.

"You just missed her…" he carries on.

"Probably for the best," replies Haru, feeling like he already can't stand this chick for wiping the smile so thoroughly from Makoto's face.

Sitting quietly across from him, Makoto offers a weak smile in lieu of a greeting. He doesn't have a clue what he's supposed to be saying, or doing, or even thinking, so he rolls with his instincts and pulls out his sketch pad. Makoto's good looking, there's no denying it. Kisumi's definitely being a little (lot) tactless with his blatant attraction but… well… Haru can't blame him.

He traces his features. His jaw is particularly nice on the aesthetics, but he's struggling with the cheekbones. They just don't have the same effect when he's frowning.

"You're not as nice to draw when you're sad…" he mumbles, nudging his foot under the table with his.

Something softens in Makoto. Maybe it's just his inherent dersire to please, or maybe Haru's actually accomplished something, because Makoto's sitting back and smiling, just gently, he's not happy, not by a long shot, but his face has regained its usual resting expression, and it makes the corners of Haru's lips twitch upwards too.

Makoto waits expectantly to at least be shown the finished product, but Haru's sliding it back into his bag.

"You got to keep the last one," he explains, reading his expression. "This one's mine."