*
About a month later, in a quiet room, a conversation was being held between two men. It was a very curious conversation. Curious not because of what was being said but because of the speakers themselves.
"But who would ever want someone like me?" The first man spoke in a teasing tone. His voice was cold, deep and silvery. As though asserting it's dominance while holding a playful and yet youthful extravagance, luring you in with his words. His words held a hint of ice enough to make one wonder if it was just their imagination or he was really speaking with an underlying tone of hostility.
There was a pause and then the other voice spoke.
"Why would you think no one would want you?" The voice asked. The voice was soft and yet deep enough to confirm it was indeed a man speaking. It brought a sort of inexplicable warmth.
The owners of the voices were in a room that looked to be a lounge, very elegantly furnished, each piece of furniture or decoration looking as though it had been passed down from generations of a rich family.
Xander sat on a chair on the left, dressed in black from head to toe. On his feet were a pair of black shiny dress shoes. He wore black slacks, ironed neatly. A button down shirt; buttoned only to the second button so a sliver of his tanned skin peaked out, hugged his chest. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms. And on his left hand lay a gold watch, that made him look a little more intimidating. Like those mafia bosses from the movies. His black and silver matching rings adding to his air of danger.
He looked beautiful in a dangerous way. The type of beauty that scares you more than it mesmerizes you. His hair was gelled back, and the sides of his head were shaved evenly but not completely, so there's still some hairs which were only half as long as the ones on the top of his head. His left brow was arched, bringing attention to his dark coffee coloured eyes. His nose bridge was somewhat crooked as though he'd been hit before and it healed as well as it could due to how badly it had been broken, but that was all that marred his beauty. It served more as an additional intimidating factor. His lips were pink and full. And his left ear held a single piercing.
He had a quarter smirk on his face as though he knew something the other man didn't, before he opened his mouth and spoke.
"Because, Anton, no one likes bad boys, no matter how much they seem to be all the rage nowadays. The bitter truth is that no one has the courage to start a conversation with, talk less of wanting to have anything to do with someone who is only going to bring them trouble. That's why you only ever see such instances in teenage romance novels and movies." He was the first man to speak earlier. The man with the cold voice. He sat with his back resting against the back of the chair, his right ankle rested over his left, and his arms hanging over the armrest.
"It doesn't mean that there would be no one in the world who is willing to give you a chance. It just means you haven't found that person yet." The only other man in the room spoke. It was Anton.
He wore white. All white. White dress shoes, white perfectly ironed slacks, a white button up shirt, buttoned almost to the very top. His cuffs were held together with silver cufflinks. He had snowy white skin, and red thin lips that contrasted starkly with his porcelain pale skin. His nose was perfectly straight and his eyes were honey colored.
His black hair (the only black thing on his body) was long enough to touch his shoulders and it was styled so that half the hair at the top of his head was packed in a low ponytail. A few strands were left framing his face, and the rest at the back of his head simply fell to his shoulders.
His all white attire seemed to even accentuate his snowy skin. He sat with his left leg crossed over his right and his hands folded in his lap, his back rested comfortably against the backrest. A white suit, undoubtedly his, lay spread out on the back of the chair so it didn't get wrinkled.
His eyes were fixed solely on Xander. He must have seen the underlying hostility in the man's expression and yet the way he looked at the man never changed. He looked at him naturally, like he was used to this very expression. He simply stared at Xander with a beautiful smile on his face.
His dressing and the way he spoke made one think he came from a very fortunate or at least a wealthy background. His voice seemed to create an inexplicable sense of calm or soothing assurance for those who heard it.
His eyelids were only two-thirds open since he was looking across at Xander and his lips were pulled up at one end making it look like a lazy, teasing smile. Anyone might have thought he was purposefully being seductive.
Xander, caught off guard by his words and smile was left speechless for a few seconds, before blinking himself out of the daze, then he spoke.
"And why are you so convinced, Anton? Could it be that you want to be that person yourself?"