The "Lovable" Type| OHSHC x OC

Enamouré(e) {Mori Ending}

A/n: Hi! Don't get mad but I've had this in drafts since the day I published "Happy" and just forgot about it 😅 Kyoya votes won, but I was planning on doing a Mori alternate ending anyway. The part in between the bold is from the last "official" chapter, so reread if you wish (but skip if you remember)! Oh! And this is just continued from the battle scene when Mori gives her up....guess who changes his mind here? ;)

╚══ ❀•°𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝒯𝓎𝓅𝑒°•❀ ══╝

Mori, watching the exchange, made a decision.

I need to make things clear. Let her know how I feel.

╚══ ❀•°𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝒯𝓎𝓅𝑒°•❀ ══╝

After catching up to a drenched Haruhi and Tamaki, the group made their way back to the school that evening.

Amei leaned against the cold stone wall outside the ballroom, her mind heavy with the echoes of a conversation she hadn't been ready to have.

Her father had shown up, just as they'd returned, his presence as commanding as ever yet softened by something unfamiliar.

"Amei," he'd said, his tone uncharacteristically hesitant. "Let's talk."

In the quiet sanctuary of the garden, they faced each other. Amei stood rigid, arms crossed defensively as her father sat on a nearby bench, the weight of years hanging between them.

He had led her to the garden, where the flowers swayed in the faint evening breeze.

She stood a cautious distance from him, arms crossed tightly, her posture tense like a coiled spring.

"What did you want to say that I haven't already heard?" Her voice was sharp, defensive.

Antoine sat on the bench across from her, his shoulders hunched. His elbows rested on his knees, fingers pressed together as though searching for strength. He exhaled deeply before speaking.

"It was envy," he said softly.

Amei's brows furrowed. "What?"

He didn't look at her at first. "I treated you the way I did because I was envious of you. Of your courage. Of your determination to chase what you love, no matter the cost." Slowly, his gaze lifted to meet hers. "Because I wasn't brave enough to do the same."

Amei's heart stuttered. She said nothing, but the tightness in her chest grew unbearable.

"I grew up with legacy," he admitted, his words spilling out like water from a dam. "It didn't matter that I had no real passion for it. I was told what I was meant to do, and I followed because it was safe—stable. I didn't understand you because you refused to follow that path. You're talented, Amei. But your defiance...it was incomprehensible to me."

Her father's voice cracked, and he looked away, ashamed. "Masuyo... I favored her because she reminded me of myself—or so I thought. But now I see the truth. She has no passion of her own. She works hard only to meet expectations, not for love of what she does. And I..." He closed his eyes tightly. "I suppressed my own desires so deeply that I tried to do the same to you. Your rebellion felt like an affront to everything I was taught to value."

His words struck her like a blow, each one dredging up years of resentment and pain.

"Even so," Amei said quietly, her voice laced with steel, "it wasn't fair."