Chapter Text
The damn noise started almost immediately after the idiot upstairs moved in.
His former neighbor had been relatively quiet, which allowed Enji to work with ease. He’d managed to churn out two books in that time! But since Keigo “Call Me Hawks” Takami moved in, Enji’s lucky if he gets a page a day written. It grates on his nerves.
Enji wasn’t an unreasonable man, he’d given Hawks two weeks to get his shit moved in, dealing with the sounds of furniture scraping against floors like a fucking champ. Best neighbor ever, thank you very much.
He’d only gone upstairs once during that entire mess to introduce himself and explain to Hawks that he was a novelist who works from home and works best when it’s quiet. Hawks had been happy to meet the new neighbor and promised silence once he’d finished moving in.
When the noise becomes a constant thrum for three days solid where Enji writes absolutely nothing, he finally stomps up to the top floor of the apartment complex and bangs his fist angrily against Hawks’ front door.
Hawks gives a sheepish ‘c’mon in’, rattles off a litany of apologies, offers Enji a beer, and explains that he’d been trying to fight an AEKI wardrobe for the past three days and hadn’t realized he’d been so loud.
Enji helps Hawks put the wardrobe together (how the younger man had tried to install a door upside down, he’ll never understand) and reminds Hawks about his need for some semblance of quiet. Hawks promises to keep it down.
The promise is broken two days later when there’s a loud crash from upstairs.
He wants to slam his head on his office desk, but finally gets up, tosses his glasses on his desk, and goes upstairs to check on Hawks. He’s met with apologies and an offer of beer once again.
This time he’s regaled with stories of how clumsy Hawks is, how he wished he’d had wings to help either balance himself or catch himself, and a story about how he’d tried to get into the cabinet above his fridge which ended in failure when the chair he’d stood on twisted out from under him, sending him falling, resulting in the crash Enji had heard.
It continues on this way for months.
Hawks is never a quiet upstairs neighbor. It results in Enji storming up to his apartment almost every other day where he receives an apology, an offer of beer (sometimes tea), and some anecdote about Hawks’ life.
Enji is surprised one day when he comes up to ask Hawks just what the fuck was the metal chain he heard dragging across the floor and catches sight of one of his books, well-worn and loved, sitting on Hawks’ coffee table.
When he asks about it, he finds out that “Endeavor” is his favorite author, he’d been reading the books since he was a kid (“my parents didn’t know, don’t think they would’ve cared anyways”), and he knew the damn books like the back of his hand.
They have an entire four hour conversation (argument) about the latest book, wherein Hawks pointed out inconsistencies in the series that Enji (and his editor) had apparently missed.
There are diagrams involved in the not-argument. Hawks is eventually proven correct.
Enji leaves and never finds out about the metal chain sound. Hawks never finds out that “Endeavor” is Enji’s pseudonym.
He grows accustomed to Hawks’ antics and, with time, Enji finds himself finally able to work through the noise most days. It inevitably means he stops barging into Hawks’ apartment demanding him to shut up as much; usually reserving those times for whenever Hawks does something so stupid it shakes his apartment.
So, he purposely carves out Tuesday evenings to spend with his upstairs neighbor. He finds out Hawks is an artist, which explains his weird work schedule. He specializes in murals (“another reason wings would be awesome! No need to use a lift!”), but does online commissions to make up when he’s not working on a big project.
Hawks shows him the illustrations he did for Endeavor’s older books and he idly wonders if maybe they should include some illustrations in his next book. He's sure Hawks would jump at the chance to get a sneak peek at the latest Endeavor book and get to illustrate it.
There’s some semblance of a friendship with Hawks and Enji realizes it's the first real friend he’s had in … Decades.
When, a couple months into their regular Tuesday meetups, there’s suddenly silence from upstairs, Enji is understandably worried. There’s not even the usual shuffling of feet when Hawks would normally roll out of bed at nearly noon.
If he’d gone on vacation, or a job, he would have told Enji. He’d done so, once before, an out-of-town job had come up and Hawks had warned him they wouldn’t be able to meet up on Tuesday because of it. He’d even made a joke that he bet with all the silence, Enji would be able to write a lot!
This … This was different. It was a sudden silence that felt … Off. It unnerved him and killed every effort to write. Knocking on Hawks’ door was met with more silence. He’d even slipped a note under his door asking if everything was okay.
He didn’t even have Hawks’ damn number. If he ever needed to talk to the idiot, he’d just gone upstairs.
If anyone had told him seven months ago, when Hawks first moved in, that he’d be contacting the last person on his list to try and locate Hawks because it was too damn quiet upstairs, he probably would have set them on fire.
“Toshinori.”
“Enji! You never call!” The call is interrupted by a coughing fit. “Don’t tell me you’re stumped on a part for your book and you need help …”
“No.”
“That’s a pleasant surprise … Did you call to just chat?”
“No.”
“Then … How can I help you?”
“My upstairs neighbor …” Enji starts, frowning. “I think something happened to him. It’s been too quiet there … He didn’t say he was leaving …”
“Enji Todoroki. Worried for someone other than himself?”
“I knew calling you was a mistake--”
“Hold on, hold on,” Toshinori says, another round of coughing before Enji hears typing. “Alright … What’s his name, I’ll look him up in the department’s database. If he’s been picked up for anything, it should show up.”
“Keigo Takami. Alias: Hawks. He’s been missing since the 9th.”
There’s a hum from the other end of the line and for once in his life, he’s grateful he retained a connection with the old police detective. They’d met on a ride along Enji had done for writing research and Toshinori had been so interested in his work, he’d insisted they keep in touch.
Enji had dedicated a book to him once.
“I’m not seeing anything …” Toshinori stifles a cough before typing again, “There was a John Doe admitted to UA Hospital on the 9th? Blond hair?”
“That might be him.”
“I’ll call ahead and see if I can get you access.”
“Thank you.”
“You owe me a lunch, Enji,” Toshinori said, a smile in his voice, knowing how much Enji hated having lunch with him.
“I’ll have two with you if it’s him,” Enji responded.
There was a moment of silence on the line before Toshinori cleared his throat. “Well … I hope you find your … neighbor, then.”
It doesn’t take long for Enji to arrive at the hospital. With Toshinori’s help, he’s directed to the hospital room to see if he’s able to identify the John Doe. Part of him hopes it’s not Hawks, the other part … If it was, he’d at least know where he’d been.
Rounding the corner, he’s met with familiar blond hair poking out of bandages. Hawks looks like absolute shit. There’s bandages wrapped tightly around his head, bandaging on his face, and an arm and leg in casts.
Once he confirms Hawks’ identity, explains who he is and that Hawks has no relatives, the nurse is a bit more forthcoming with information. The idiot had apparently seen a kid in the road and dove into the street to save him from a speeding car.
He’d had some internal bleeding, road rash, a broken arm and leg, and one hell of a bump to his head; that didn't include the bruising. The doctors had kept him under, hoping to keep him stabilized, and had planned to wake him the next day.
The kid’s mom came daily, wanting updates and to thank the hero who’d saved her child.
Giving his contact information, Enji finally felt as though he could relax now that he knew where his neighbor had disappeared to.
When Hawks is released from the hospital, Enji helps him back to his apartment. The two chat for a few hours. Enji had learned in the hospital, once Hawks woke up, that he had gone out to get new paint for a project, saw the kid, and hadn’t even thought before rushing to save him.
Enji chides Hawks for acting recklessly.
Hawks immediately teases Enji for worrying about him.
Enji threatens to not bring him chicken from the one fast food place he loves.
The crashes and bangs start up almost immediately; far worse than they’d ever been.
When he’s throwing back aspirin for the fourth day in a row, Enji finally goes upstairs to check on Hawks. His apartment is an absolute trainwreck of a mess and Hawks looks pretty damn sick.
“When was the last time you ate, boy?”
“Uh … The day after you brought that chicken?”
“Three days ago?!”
“I mean, I’ve had snacks … When I can reach food or … Y’know … Use my left hand instead of my right to cook something.”
Enji pinches the bridge of his nose. He immediately calls for a maid service for Hawks’ apartment. Hawks' protests over not wanting to pay for a maid service for his apartment stops when Enji explains that he is footing the bill, not Hawks. Gathering some of Hawks’ clothes, his medicines from the doctors, and a few things to keep him occupied (mainly his sketchbook), he piles it all on Hawks’ lap in his wheelchair and wheels him to the elevator.
“Not that I’m complaining, big guy, but uh … Where are we going?”
“You’re staying with me for a few days. You can’t be trusted to take care of yourself.”
“A-Ah! Yes I can! I’m just … Not … Really great on the crutches, okay?”
“Which is why you’re in the wheelchair right now,” Enji says bluntly.
When Hawks enters Enji’s apartment for the first time, he looks around with wide eyes.
“Whoa … This place is … So clean.”
“I don’t like living in filth, like some people do.”
“I don’t live in filth! It’s just … The artistic process!”
“Don’t use that as an excuse,” Enji says, wheeling him towards the dining table. As soon as Hawks is comfortable at the table, he goes to work in the kitchen.
“Are you … Are you cooking for me?!”
Enji pauses cutting a leek, staring at him. “You haven’t eaten in days, Hawks. What do you think?”
There’s a faint pink flush that Enji almost misses. “Uh … Thanks, big guy. Always spoiling me …”
“It’s not spoiling, it’s basic human care,” he responds.
Hawks takes the time to practice sketching with his left hand (which turns out just making his subject [Enji] look more like a blob than anything else) until Enji brings him a bowl of food. After they eat, Enji shows Hawks around the apartment, who's layout looks fairly similar to Hawks’.
“You can stay in the guest--”
“Holy shit! Are those all Endeavor books?!”
Enji winces. He’d forgotten the guest room served mostly as a spare library since … When the hell did he ever have guests? Two walls had been lined with bookshelves, mostly featuring varying copies of his books.
“They are …”
“I mean, I knew you were a fan when we had our little … Conversation …”
“Argument.”
“Potayto, potahto,” he says, waving him off. “I knew you were a fan but holy shit … This is … Like the holy grail! You even have the limited edition ‘Touya and the Mountain’! Do you know how many copies of this were made???”
“Thirteen.”
“Thirt--! … Oh! Yeah! Thirteen! And you have one of them!” He says, trying to scoot himself over to the bookshelf to see better. Enji sighs and wheels him closer. “Seriously, this is all … This is amazing! Can I read this?!”
“If you want. Clean your hands first.”
“Well duh! Can’t mess up a masterpiece!” Hawks says eagerly. “How’d you get your hands on them?! You must have paid a fortune!”
“They were free.”
Hawks chokes on air, “What?! How?!”
“They give them to you when you write them …”
Enji can practically see the wheels turning in his head. Hawks’ eyes widen and his mouth drops open. “You-- … You’re … You’re Endeavor?!”
“It’s my pen name, yes.”
“I argued with you … About your own book …”
“To be fair, you were correct …”
Hawks groans, wiping his hand over his face, “Oh fuck me …”
“Maybe after you heal up.”