Frank Iero, Professional Fuckup

im already trash for my own fic

"What?... No, Mikey, I'll be fine. I don't need your help, for fuck's sake."
Gerard tilted his head in order to talk into the phone as he shifted a large cardboard box farther up into his arms, carrying it into the dark living room. Dust billowed out from every musty surface in the room, from the antique chest of drawers to the creaky floorboards to that door in the corner that Gerard had never actually bothered to open. Being incredibly sensitive to dust, he promptly had a giant coughing fit.

"Mikey, I swear I'm fine. It's just dust." Gerard insisted once he could breathe again. "Yes, I'll call you if I need anything. Are you aware that you've called more than Mom has? ... Yeah, I'm sure you care. You're just waiting for me to cry for help so you win the bet. I'm capable of being an adult, you know. Shut up, Mikey, stop laughing at me... I'll be fine, Jesus. ... I love you too." He hung up his cellphone and dropped the box on the floor, sitting down roughly and looking around the room.

Gerard bought the creaky old house as a bet against his younger brother Mikey- $500 said that Gerard couldn't stand living on his own for a year. It was probably just a ploy to get Gerard out of the basement, but he took the bet anyways. In retrospect, he probably should have visited the house before he moved, but hey, it was only $300 total to buy. Which in itself was suspicious. Whatever. He was going to win this fucking bet if it killed him.

Gerard coughed again as he stood up. At this rate, the bet might very well kill him.