Part 2
As Ranma sat on the ground, he knew he had to make things right with Akane. His actions had not been a result of her making him sick, but rather the nervousness he felt with her question.
He knew in his heart what the answer was, but he was still afraid to say it.
Getting to his feet, he sifted through the guests, secretly searching for Akane. But after ten minutes, and the property wasn't that big, he couldn't find her anywhere.
He thought she could only be in a place, restricted to the guests, and ventured into the house and up the stairs, by-passing a DO NOT ENTER sign with a string barrier going to the second level with the bedrooms. All the bedrooms were closed and were locked, just in case someone got curious. However, the bathroom remained open. He checked there first, it was empty.
He took a deep breath and then walked to Akane's bedroom door. Standing in front, he lifted a hand to rap a knuckle on it—but suddenly stopped. What would he say? How could he explain what had happened without making things worse? She often jumped to conclusions.
He decided to just wing it and knocked.
"Who is it?" came her voice.
He hesitated to answer, but then ultimately said, "It's me, Akane. We need to talk." Silence. Had he really hurt her that badly? "Akane, c'mon! It's not what you think. I can explain. Let me in!"
"We have nothing to say to each other," Akane said angrily back. "You made your feelings perfectly clear, I make your sick!"
He banged on the door. "Hey, it's not like that! Open the door, please." He felt he was pleading. In a way, he was. He needed to make things right. He tried the handle, the door was locked. "I need to tell you the truth, the honest truth."
There was a moment of silence, then Akane came to the door. It opened. She folded her arms across her chest and looked at him harshly. "Well, then tell me, Ranma. Tell me the honest truth. Say it to my face that I make your sick to your stomach!"
He gulped nervous. He felt he was one-second away from being slapped. She needed to understand, but even he wasn't sure how to explain things. He looked over the banister, heard the sound of guests. He turned back. "Let's talk in private," he insisted.
Akane stood at her door like a guard to a sacred haven, but then dropped her arms, and gestured him inside. She walked back to her window, yet stood forceful. Ranma shut the door behind him, felt self-conscious.
Akane looked intimidating. They stood on opposite ends of the room.
Ranma's stomach felt like it was tied in knots again, but he had to get the truth out, why he threw up in front of her. He put up his hands up in a gesture of peace, as her eyes looked at him coldly. "Look, about before. You have it all wrong. You do make me sick, but—"
"I knew it! Get out!" she screamed, and went for anything to use for a weapon. And found a bat under her bed.
Ranma staggered back, slamming his back against the door with a loud thud. "No, Akane, wait! Listen to me…" His mind raced, but everything was jumbled. He forgot what he was going to say, fear now filling his mind. Fear of being hit. Akane could be a violent person. "Akane, wait!" he repeated. He put out his hands in front of his face. "Give me a chance to explain!"
Akane huffed, with the bat in her hand. "You have one minute, Ranma. Give me a good reason not to beat your brains out. And at least in here, the guests won't see your corpse."
Ranma sighed deeply, relieved that he had at least one more minute to live. He didn't wait for permission, and sat down on her bed. She moved aside as he occupied the close space between himself and her. He looked up at her with a sorrowful smile. He clenched his fists at his side, not in anger but to give himself strength. He needed all the strength he could muster.
Akane looked annoyed, but then her expression suddenly changed. "Ranma," she said, "what's wrong?" She relaxed a little, lowering the bat. "Maybe, it was the food? I need to tell Dad. We don't need the guests getting sick."
She went to leave, but then Ranma quickly grabbed her arm stopping Akane in her tracks. She looked back and Ranma looked into the deep pool of her eyes. He shook his head, continuing to hold her arm, but no longer to stop her but for emotional support.
He sighed. "It's not the food, Akane," he said, building himself up. "It's you. My stomach gets tied in knots whenever you're around. My heart races and my courages waivers."
Akane stood bewildered, her mouth agape. She lowered the bat fully. "Ranma…" she said softly under her breath, her voice sounding soft, like a tweeting bird in the early morning just as the sun began to rise. This was normally out of character for her, because most of the time she was angry at him, sounding like an annoying crow. "What are you trying to say?"
He felt his eyes tearing up with emotion. He knew it was time. "I love you, Akane," he finally said, standing up, cupping her free hand in both of his hands in affection. She dropped the bat to the floor, now forgotten. "But," he hesitated for a moment, wishing he could take it back. But then he pressed on. He had felt this way for a while now, and maybe, just maybe…the wedding had helped him break out of his shell. "But I'm not ready to take our relationship to the next level, at least not openly. There's just too much conflict, you know, with the others. They'll go ballistic if they find out."
He stared into her eyes, they were like glittering diamonds of cobalt blue, and so pure. And he looked longingly into them, the world enveloping him within their sweet embrace.
Akane blinked, speechless. "Oh, Ranma…" she said softly. "How long…I mean…"
Her words stuttered out, became difficult for her. But how long had she been waiting for him to admit his feelings? They had been through so much together, moments of separation, strife, and almost at death's door. But with everything, they always returned back to each other.
He felt his cheeks flush with heat and his body tingle. And a fever came over him unlike any he had felt before. He had said: "I love you" to her before, but that was in times of stress, when he felt like he was about to lose her. Then he slinked back into a cocoon of his own making and tried to believe it didn't happen. So did Akane, if he recalled, everything going back to normal.
But he meant it this time. The words had come out of him with honest emotion.
"Well," he said, waiting for an answer. "I gave you my answer to your question. What's yours?"
Just then, Akane's cheeks puffed up like a blowfish—like his did next to the house. His eyes widened, and he said, "Oh, no…"
And then it happened, like projected from a cannon—rocketing towards him at sonic speed. But in his mind, he only saw it in slow motion—as chucks of foodstuff came barreling at him, spattering his face, and liquifying down his chin, and onto his rented, white shirt.
It was enough to make him sick all over again.
And whether it was the shock of it or something else, Akane suddenly collapsed into his arms. She dropped, her body listless. He fell with her, catching her, dropped to his rear, his back pressed against her bed. She was completely unconscious.
"Akane!"
He checked her pulse, he knew how to do so. And she was fine. But he could swear he felt her heart racing fast. It was then he realized, history repeated itself. She had been sick when she couldn't admit her feelings when asked the same question she had asked him. "Like", "love"—it made no difference, really. But she took it one step further, fainting.
He continued to hold her in his arms.
He used his shirt to wipe her face. He didn't bother to call anyone, he didn't want to cause a scene or ruin the wedding. Besides, it wasn't a medical emergency. It was something else entirely. And he didn't wish to explain it.
He smiled, looking down at Akane unconscious in his arms. Her body was warm and somehow this felt natural. Hugging her felt natural. He never believed that that would ever cross his mind, but he liked the feeling.
The atmosphere was perfect.
And he stole a kiss. He pressed his mouth against her lips. Would she mind? It wasn't a long kiss, but it long enough to express how he truly felt about her. Finally!
He leaned back, and in that moment, Akane opened her eyes.
He didn't dare compare himself to Prince Charming in that fairy tale, who kissed the Princess to help her to awaken after an induced sleep in biting an apple, but he felt like a dashing man who had found his significant other in an emotional moment.
It had been his admission to her that caused her to swoon.
Akane sat up and felt her head. "W-what happened?" she asked.
"You fainted," Ranma explained, sitting on the floor. "And I caught you."
She suddenly scampered away like a frightened mouse, her face turning beet red. She clutched her hands to her chest, as if afraid something she dared not admit had happened. She then saw his clothes, covered in vomit.
Ranma cocked his head slightly, then looked at himself. He smiled.
"I…I don't know what c-came over me," she stuttered, her face still red. "Maybe you were right, it's the food. We should tell Shampoo. Or it might be too late." Akane then looked around, as if suddenly aware of her surroundings. "Why are we in my room alone?"
Ranma's smile dropped, realizing something had changed.
She doesn't remember. She doesn't remember what I admitted to her, he thought.
He sighed. And just nodded. His heart sank.
He pulled himself up, burying his emotions deep down. "Oh, um, I just wanted to apologize for earlier," he said straightly. "But I guess you got your revenge." He looked at his shirt again.
Akane looked at him strangely. "Um, what happened earlier?"
Ranma's heart felt like it had stopped. She doesn't remember that either?
He felt like he had just been stabbed in the heart, the knife plunged as deep as it could go. Selective amnesia, he thought it was called.
"Never mind," he said, shaking his head. "I don't think it's the food, Akane." He straightened up, trying to forget what had just occurred, putting up a barrier for his emotions. "I think it's just the excitement." He faked a smile. "No biggie, I'll go change. The reception is almost over anyway."
"But your shirt, Ranma," Akane said, her words apologetic, getting up. "I'll have it dry cleaned."
Ranma continued to beam a fake smile. "Sure," was all he said.
He went to leave and gripped the handle to her door, but stopped for a second. No, he thought. It was obviously too much for her.
He left, shutting the door behind him.
But he leaned up against the wall in the hall and sighed deeply.
Just forget it, he told himself, and then he went downstairs to his room to change.
To be continued...