Quitting [Guzma x Reader]

Coffee, Biscuits, and a Blunt.

a/n: this chapter is 3326 words long. It's longer than what I normally write. Hope you enjoy!

"I guess it really all starts with me and the guy next to me in the photo..." ________ began, trying to remember everything in order. "He was my boyfriend at the time, from when we were sophomores to after we graduated, so about two and a half years...we built our little friend group together, in a way." Guzma loathed the expression they wore as they studied the frame.

"Yeah? Who caught feelings first?" Guzma asked, leaning backwards onto his palms as he quirked a curious brow at them.

"He did, actually. It was a mutual friend we had that told me. He was embarrassed about the situation, but I was open to the idea, given that I had just been cheated on so a little bit of attention from someone was welcomed...heh...if I only knew what I had signed up for..." ________ takes a deep, steadying breath, already starting to feel overwhelmed by the resurfacing memories. 

"So...when did things start going wrong?" Guzma prodded, hoping that a push to keep going would help keep the conversation from being too serious and depressing.

"The relationship was...kind of toxic to begin with, though I was naive and didn't know any better. I realized around the end of my senior year that we were bad for each other and that I didn't truly love him. We grew distant and shortly after we graduated, I broke up with him. It was...a super messy break up...I..he..." ________ faltered, and paused, taking another deep breath, breathing out slowly and focusing on calming themselves. "I could use a fucking blunt right now..." they groaned, shakily putting the frame on the nightstand "and some fucking coffee would be great." Grabbing their crutches, ________ pushed themselves up, and Guzma stood from the floor as well. 

"Lemme help-"

"Guzma, please. Let me make the coffee." ________ said, denying his help. Guzma knew it wasn't because they felt feeble due to their injury, but rather he figured they were particular about coffee.

"Fine, make it how you like, just let me help you so you don't hurt yourself." He huffed, following them to the kitchen.

"Actually, yeah, I'll tell you what to do and where everything is while I roll a blunt. You plan to smoke?" ________ asked, hobbling over to a cabinet and opening the eye-level door. They pull a small bin out, slide it onto the counter, and close the cabinet before hobbling around the counter to a chair.

"Sure. Where's your coffee?" Guzma asked, opening up a cabinet and peering around.

"Cabinet with the crescent moon on it, bottom shelf in a clear airtight container. Would you rather Blue, White Russian, or watermelon?" ________, popping open the box and digging around for  the wraps.

"Found it. What does Blue taste like? How much water and coffee grinds?" He asked, finding the filters next to the coffee pot.

"Do 6 cups of water to 8 scoops of grinds. Strong coffee is good coffee. I find Blue tastes like caramel? Some say it's like a blueberry muffin? It pairs well with coffee, if that helps. Stays in the confection family of sweet flavors anyway." ________ muttered, unwrapping it and splitting the cigarillo open, pushing out the tobacco and leaving just the wrapper.

"Sounds like you know what you're doing. Roll the Blue then."

"Aight...so while that coffee is dripping, if you wanna eat something to go with this coffee, I think I have some biscuits in the fridge. They're the pre-made ones that comes in the rolls, but they'll be done in like 15 or so? I've got spreads and jellies in the fridge, and butter and eggs and ham if you'd rather go more for a breakfast biscuit?" ________ offered, motioning to the fridge.