Disclaimer: I don't own any Twilight characters by S. Meyer.
"Age does not protect you from love, but love to some extent protects you from age."
- Jeanne Moreau
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Eight
"You know what, I can't, we can't!" I whispered silently, convincing him or rather myself.
"We can't what?" he asked, looking into my eyes. Deeply. I hated it. I hated that I would always get lost when he looked at me like that.
I took a paper and wrote down the cursed sign, the number which was blocking out everything, every feeling I had for this man, this boy, standing in front of me.
"Look! 8. Two circles touching without being one. It's as if touching each other but not ever being able to fuck. You know how depressive this could be?" I glared at him, handing him the sheet of paper.
"You know, I can always make you less depressive and give you a lot pleasure with the only touching but no real fucking thing…" he challenged.
"Eight years, Edward. Eight years is our age gap," I told him, ignoring the heat he had created inside me.
"Right, eight years. So what?" he asked slowly. Not slightly concerned about the fact about our age gap.
"I am a theorist. I see numbers as facts. And the fact that I am eight years older than you is bothering me. A lot. Eight is our cursed number. See it?" I asked, desperately holding back the tears.
"I am a theorist, too. And I see numbers as, well...numbers. But I see 8 as...us. Eight hours was our first day working with each other. Eight days, for me to realize I actually like everything about you. Eight weeks, for me to realize I can't be apart from you. And we are exactly eight steps apart from each other, every day and night. The most important thing is, eight years is nothing compared to what I am feeling right now," he told me as a single stubborn tear rolled down my right cheek. He took my cheeks into his hands and gently wiped it away. Then, he looked at the paper and turned it slightly.
"See?" he asked.
"What?"
"If we turn this 8 slightly, 90 degrees to be precise, what do you see?" he asked again. Urging me to take a look.
"∞ The sign of infinity," I gasped, suddenly seeing what he was trying to show me.
"Exactly. 8 means infinity to me. And this is what I see! Also, for your information, this sign is magical, people use it at weddings."
"Edward...I..." I needed to run. I turned around and started running. Escaping from my feelings, running away from this perfect guy.
I took a last glance at the closed door before heading to the elevator.
Eight
The room number I was last seeing him.
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A/N
So this is my first try on fanfics. Bella is older than Edward. By eight years. So, if you can't accept this fact, then please do not continue reading.
