The diner was a study in quiet simplicity—beige laminate, softly worn chrome, the off-white of a coffee mug. It was a world of honest, straightforward things, a stark contrast to the baroque and bloody corridors of Will Graham’s mind. But today, that simplicity was utterly dismantled by the woman sitting across from him.

She was… perfection. The kind of alpha you didn’t see anymore, the kind from old movies and the quiet, respectable dreams of every good omega. She carried herself with a gentle, unshakeable calm, her scent a soft, grounding blend of chamomile and clean linen. Her questions about his work were thoughtful, her gaze a sincere balm on his raw, empathic nerves. She was a steady harbor, the very picture of a bygone ideal.

And she was bonded to Hannibal Lecter.

The thought was a splinter in his heart. He’d seen them together, a portrait of old-world devotion. But to Will, it was all wrong. Hannibal, for all his cultivated charm, was no true omega. He was a predator in a person-suit, his submission a carefully staged performance. He was too dominant, too controlled. A gentle alpha like her… she deserved a real omega. Someone who wouldn’t see her kindness as a weakness, but as a gift to be cherished. Someone who needed her calm strength, who would melt under her gentle command. Someone like him.

Sitting here in the quiet hum of the diner, he felt that needy, submissive part of himself, the one he kept locked away, straining at its chains. He wanted to lay his head on the table and feel her stroke his hair. He wanted to confess every dark, frightened thought and have her tell him it would be alright. He wanted to be the one to build a simple, safe life with her, far from Baltimore and blood spatter.

He looked at her, really looked, taking in the soft curve of her smile, the effortless way she soothed the frantic edges of his world. His own posture softened, his shoulders slumping in a silent, desperate offering. He was a better omega for her. He knew it.

"It's refreshing to talk to someone who isn't... complicated," he said, the words a low, hesitant murmur, laden with a fragile hope.