Oliver idly skims through Robin’s instagram page—well, the shop’s instagram page. He hasn’t followed it, because...well, he doesn’t want people wondering why he’s following a dessert instagram.

“Hey, Oliver,” his coworker, Mia, barges in, waving her phone. Oliver nearly jumps, quickly locking his screen.

When Mia finally slows down her waving, Oliver sees that it’s an instagram picture of a separated coffee and milk drink.

“Where did you buy that dalgona coffee the other week?” Mia asks.

Oliver freezes. “Huh?”

“The dalgona coffee!” she repeats, waving her phone in his face. “I want to try it!”

“Right now?” Oliver croaks. She’s gonna find out, she’s gonna find out…!!

“Yes,” Mia says impatiently. “All the cafes I tried didn’t sell it. Where did you get it?”

Oliver deflates. “There’s a dessert shop nearby...”

“What? Why haven’t I heard of this?”

“It mostly sells bubble tea?”

Realisation dawns on Mia’s face. “Oh! No wonder! I hate tea, you know, so I always looked away.” She smirks, slapping Oliver on the back. “C’mon, it’s about time for a break anyway.”

Each step to Matcha & Milk has Oliver’s stomach churning. It was his secret...and what if she sees something between him and Robin?

There’s a line, so Mia takes the time to look at the menu. “Ollie, they’re cakes here too. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Mhm.”

“Oh, of course,” she chuckles. “I know you don’t like sweet stuff that much. I still remember Nicky’s face when you spat out those dark chocolate brownies.”

Because it was bitter as hell! Nicky had skimped on the sugar—in which case, what's the point? Oliver sighs heavily.

Finally, they’re at the front of the queue.

“Afternoon, Oliver—” Robin’s face stills, his eyes darting over. “And?”

“Hey Robin,” Oliver says. “This is my coworker, Mia.”

“Coworker,” Robin repeats. “How may I help you today?”

“Dalgona coffee, please,” Mia immediately says.

“Of course, and—”

“An americano,” Oliver says, a little begrudgingly, already internally cringing at the bitterness. “Put it all on one bill,” he adds, handing over his loyalty card.

Mia gives him a look that he ignores. “You have a card.”

“Supporting local business, Mia.”

Mia snorts, but her expression is relaxed as she looks around the shop space.

Oliver bites back a sigh. He’s tense, and he’s trying desperately not to watch Robin, which is really making it worse. Robin’s moving swiftly between different parts of the kitchen and space behind the counter, turning this knob in the coffee machine, setting that to whip in the stand mixer—

Oliver frowns a little when he notices that there’s in fact another worker behind the counter, taking orders while Robin’s making drinks and vice-versa. They’re definitely not around late at night when Oliver usually comes in.

Robin calls out their number, and Oliver quickly heads up with Mia to collect their drinks. While Mia’s drink is in a clear cup, Oliver’s cup is opaque.

He wants to say something more to Robin, but there are more customers, and Mia is there, and so Oliver says the cringiest, “Thanks,” ever.

Robin gives him a tense smile back, and he’s off to serve the next customer.

Mia’s dalgona coffee is separated between white milk and pale brown fluffy coffee: it looks sweet and drinkable. In contrast, Oliver’s americano is water and bitter coffee. The coffee cup is warming in his hands, and Oliver cannot yet force himself to take a sip.

“This is actually sweet,” Mia says as she sips her own coffee. “One of my friends made it at home and said it was bitter. I can’t believe you drank this.”

“Nothing wrong with a sugar boost,” Oliver says defensively. “Clearly it depends on the amount of sugar your friend added.”

Mia rolls her eyes. “Didn’t mean to hit a sore nerve,” she says with a reassuring smile. “No shade on your coffee choices.”

Oliver heads to his office to nurse on his americano in private. When he finally sips it though, he realises that it's sweet and creamy. There’s even a touch of chocolate.

He takes another sip and properly enjoys the taste. With the cream and chocolate, it tastes more like a mocha breve than an americano. Something in Oliver’s chest swells—for Robin had known that Oliver wanted something sweet.