Best of You [ChanCheol] ✔

07

They go up to the second floor. Seungcheol says that the cancer patients take this floor in the event that the elevator stops working and those who couldn't make it down six flights would only have to worry about one set of stairs. Chan kept his comment to himself, but he wonders why not keep them on the first floor then.

Occasionally, he casts a look over to Seungcheol, who stays quiet as he leads the way. He doesn't ask where they're going, simply follows. He pulls the wheelchair to a stop outside room 303 and looks at Chan. "Wait here for a second?" Though he's asking, he's already disappeared into the room. Feeling uneasy, he leans against the wall. Watching quietly as one or two people walk past. Mostly nurses and he spots someone asking for help in finding a room. The door across pulls open and a boy steps out, full cheeks and floppy brown hair straighter than Chan could ever get his own without needing to use a flat iron. Their eyes lock and he bows his head politely. Another boy follows, younger than the first, a beanie pulled over his head and brown hair sticking out along the one side. He's got a foreign look to him, and when their eyes meet, he tilts his head. A curious smile crosses his face. He waves a hand.

"Okay," Seungcheol says abruptly, "Let's go." He comes out of his room and stops for a brief moment, looking over at the two boys who were still there. Seungcheol smiles at the one in the wheelchair, who smiles back softly. "Good morning, Vernon. Seungkwan."

"Morning Seungcheol," the boy pushing the wheelchair greets. The one in the wheelchair waves and before Chan can say anything, they disappear down the hallway and around the corner. Turning back, he hurries to catch up with Seungcheol who has already started moving. They head to the other side of the hallway and he presses the button for the elevator.

"Where are we going?" Chan asks, sparing a sideways glance as the elevator doors close. Seungcheol's eyes dart over and he quickly averts his gaze to the doors. When he looks again, Seungcheol is staring straight, an amused smile spread across his face.

"Up," he says simply.

"Like the movie?"

"Not exactly like the movie," he comments, looking at Chan incredulously as if it were more than a simple joke.

A silence covers them for the next few seconds before the elevator stops and the doors open. Seungcheol exits out onto the rooftop and Chan follows behind quietly as he takes in their surroundings. It's large in size, benches at each side and the washing lines beside a little garden. Seungcheol wheels himself over to the bench and Chan almost loses it when he gets up and walks perfectly well over to the bench. His brows lift and he's stammering while Seungcheol watches him in amusement.

"You walked," Chan states, walking over and leaning into the bench from behind. "Walked!"

"Who ever said I needed the wheelchair?" Seungcheol queries, a mischievous little glint in his eye. His brows quirk as he waits to see what Chan will say.

"You don't need it?"

"Not really. I just woke up really exhausted," he explains, turning his head to look out onto the city. "They let me use it for situations similar." The hand resting on the spot beside him taps it twice before he moves it to his lap and he folds his hands together. Chan sits down beside him. There's a soft breeze that has him wondering whether it was safe to be up here. Considering the way the rain came out in the days prior, he couldn't help but to wonder.

"So, you never answered my question." His head whips around to find Seungcheol already looking at him. His head is tilted slightly that has his hair flopping over to one side of his face. A quizzical expression forms as he continues to stare, in anticipation.

"Your question?"

"Why dancing? Why not singing?"

Oh. Oh, that question. The one he tried to avoid. The one he managed to avoid up until this very moment that it is being asked. Here he thought he was safe from it, but Seungcheol's memory seemed to get the better of him.

"I'm no good."

Seungcheol scoffs. "That's a lie. Try again."

"How is it a lie?"

"Gut feeling." This response is what has Chan laughing. While it's not all that funny, he finds himself laughing way harder than he should, right to the point where he has to cover his face. He thinks it might be how stupidly simple the reasoning was or the fact that his 'gut feeling' was spot on. Even Chan, who could be self-conscious, knew he wasn't that bad of a singer. He was better at rap, but he wasn't a total horror of a singer. Seungcheol watches him quietly; he can feel his eyes on him.

"Me becoming a singer would immediately have me in a shadow," he admits. "My brother's well known. He's good and hardworking and one hundred per cent self producing. If I decided to step out into the world and become a singer or even just a rapper, I'd be compared to him. Non-stop. There would be so much pressure on me," he says, finalizing his explanation. He doesn't look at Seungcheol but instead up at the sky. His aura is comfortable. Chan could have sat next to him for the first time, no phone calls prior to their meeting, and he'd still be speaking this way. He was just that comforting, aura screaming that he was anything but judgemental. He hears Seungcheol hum beside him.

"So a dancer," he states. "Making a name for yourself."

"Exactly."

Chan doesn't stay all that long. He leaves two hours later when a doctor Jeon Wonwoo comes to find him. In that time, he finds out that the number Seungcheol has been using to call him is his cell. He didn't like having to use the hospital phone in his room nor did he like having to be connected through the hospital phone. He got the information from one of the night shift nurses who always picked up when Chan answered and when Seungcheol escorted him downstairs, he's almost sad that their day ended so suddenly. Nevertheless, he hurries to catch the bus and when he gets home, he goes straight to his room.

Not even ten minutes later, his phone goes off.

"I'm sorry for asking you here so abruptly." His voice fills Chan's ears, a hint of exhaustion coming through his tone. He isn't finished as he continues, "But thank you for the visit."

"Thank you for inviting me to visit."

He chuckles. "I have to go, but it was nice meeting you, Chan."

"You too," he responds and the line cuts dead. He stares at the phone and after a moment, he adds the number to his contacts. It was nice meeting you too.