Matteo had never made a big deal about his identity. In his mind, it lived in the same category as espresso preference, deeply personal, quietly evolving, and nobody else’s to define. He had spent the morning dodging three love-struck latte enthusiasts, one cursed croissant that kept reappearing no matter how many times he threw it out, and a singing baguette named Alain that had been sent by the Queen.

He tried to ignore it all by brewing through it until Jo found him aggressively tamping espresso into a portafilter that didn’t deserve that kind of treatment. All he wanted was to get through one shift without being declared someone’s “emotional twin flame through macchiato”.

Unfortunately, the Universe, or more accurately, the Queen had other plans.

She appeared mid-shift, dramatically backlit by a beam of suspiciously poetic sunlight and wearing a cloak that sparkled like caffeinated fog.

“I’ve arrived,” she announced, “for our non-date because obviously it’s not a date. I merely craved ambiguous tension.”

Matteo froze mid pour. “We’re not going on a date.”

“Exactly,” she purred. “So mysterious. So forbidden.”

“I’m gay,” Matteo blurted out.

The Queen blinked. “As in happy?”

“No,” Jo called from the counter. “As in not into you, please stop with the baguette sonatas.”

Clorvex dropped a spoon and Mira peered from behind the tea shelf as the café fell quiet.

The Queen tilted her head with a sigh. “Oh, dear sweet Matteo, my love I’ve known all this time. I just don’t believe in limitations. Or labels. Or gravity when I’m flirting.”

Flustered, Matteo said, “That explains nothing.”

“It explains everything,” Sev whispered from the corner, sipping a drink called Unresolved Feelings, Extra Foam.

To ease the tension and his nerves, Matteo invited her to test his newest creation, Moonbrew. “It’s balanced,” he explained, “with espresso aged in moonbeam-filtered barrels and a dash of clove for clarity.”

The Queen sipped it theatrically. “It tastes like truth and mild disappointment. I adore it like I adore you.”

Matteo sighed, but he smiled too. They toasted with their cups.

“To clarity,” he said.

“To denial with good lighting,” she replied.

Later that night, Matteo wrote a new menu item: Moonbrew, good for coming out, cooling off, and caffeinated conversations you’ve been avoiding since midsummer.

He slipped it onto the board and returned to his grinder, feeling a little lighter.