The escape room storefront had its door propped wide open, jingling faintly whenever someone passed through. The front window was cluttered with old keys, dusty hourglasses, and a papier-mâché dragon that looked both majestic and mildly cross-eyed. A large sign above the entrance read 'THE RIDDLE HOUSE' in swooping gold letters.
Acheron stepped inside and immediately spotted Aviv. Hard not to, he was dressed like he had wandered out of a designer fashion blog by accident: fitted black trousers, silky shirt half-tucked, sleeves rolled, and his sparkling collar on display.
Acheron also noticed a tall Alpha practically hovering over Aviv. He is leaning in way too close, smiling too confidently compared to his looks. If not for Aviv's expression, flat, unimpressed and about two seconds away from telling the man his haircut was a crime, Acheron might've thought they were flirting.
He didn't have to wait long. The Alpha suddenly threw his hands in the air, muttered something rude under his breath, and stalked out of the store like a toddler being denied candy.
Aviv, on the other hand, didn't even blink. Not until the moment his eyes landed on Acheron, they instantly lit up, bright and mischievous.
"ERON," Aviv yelled, as if announcing a celebrity's arrival. Heads began to turn, and Aviv, as usual, did seem to care. He swooped Acheron into a hug, lifting him slightly off the ground in the process.
Acheron couldn't help but let out a squeak. It was just a tiny, startled sound; he immediately smothered it with a cough. His cheeks slowly turned pink.
"I'm surprised to see you here early," Acheron muttered, nudging Aviv's chest to get him to put him back down.
Aviv laughed loudly, unapologetically. "Oh, I intentionally wrote the meeting time an hour earlier, so I wouldn't be late." He winked. "Then I… uh… ran late. So technically, I'm on time by accident."
Acheron couldn't help the gentle smile that tugged at his lips. Aviv always carried a hurricane of energy with him, but somehow it never overwhelmed Acheron only swept him along, which made him feel lighter.
"Ready to solve some puzzles and escape some rooms?" Aviv threw his arm around Acheron's shoulders and marched them to the counter like a man on a mission.
The receptionist, a young woman with glossy hair and nervously twitchy energy, perked up the second Aviv approached. "H-hello! Welcome to The Riddle House!"
Aviv flashed his brightest smile. It was both dangerous and charismatic, definitely borderline unfair. "Reservation for Lollipop Addiction," he said, like it was the most normal team name in the world.
The receptionist blinked, a light blush creeping across her cheeks. "Oh! Yes, yes—uh—right here." She pulled up the booking with trembling hands. "Room number… um… two. And the rules are—uh—well—" She scrambled through the scripted explanation, tripping over three sentences and mispronouncing "claustrophobic" twice.
Acheron bit his lip to hide a small laugh. Aviv leaned close to him and whispered, "If she faints, I'm taking her job."
"You'd get fired," Acheron whispered back.
"True. But I'd look incredible behind this counter."
The receptionist, fully flustered now, stepped out from behind the desk, clearly ignoring whatever her training manual said, but she wanted to stay close to the tall, attractive man in front of her. She personally guided them toward a small door in the corner, standing far closer than necessary.
"Th-this is your entrance. Um… good luck… escaping." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and gave Aviv a hopeful smile. Fortunately, she didn't linger for long, closing the door behind them as they entered, lingering for a heartbeat too long. Even as it clicked shut, her gaze still clung to Aviv like he was a limited-edition collector's item.
Acheron tugged gently on Aviv's sleeve. "You made her blush."
Aviv shrugged. "I make everyone blush. Except you."
"You've tried," Acheron said solemnly.
"Yes, and failed miserably." Aviv sighed dramatically. "My ego is bruised."
Acheron bumped his shoulder lightly. "No, but seriously, you get hit on a lot"
Aviv barked out a laugh, tossing his hair back dramatically. "Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea." He said jokingly, but his voice trailed and became much more serious. "Half the time, people are trying to figure out if I'm an Alpha, an Omega, or just a very fashionable Beta."He laughed, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Because of this confusion, most just shoot their shot."
Acheron nodded, sympathy blooming in his expression. "I get that sometimes. Except with me it's…" he hesitated, cheeks warming, "whether I'm male or female."
Aviv snapped his fingers. "Exactly! It's the curse of being attractive in a very non-binary way."
Acheron's lips twitched, amused despite himself.
"Also," Aviv added, eyes sparkling with mischief, "your height doesn't help with that misunderstanding."
"Yours neither," Acheron retorted.
They froze for a beat. Glanced over at each other, then both of them burst into laughter. It was loud, unrestrained and echoed down the narrow hallway. Acheron giggled so hard he had to bend forward, hands on his knees, silver hair falling into his face. Aviv laughed until he had to wipe the corner of his eyes.
Two male Omegas, one barely taller than a potted plant and the other towering enough to make most Alphas insecure. They had different shapes, but similar struggles and were equally exhausted by the world's confusion.
"Honestly," Aviv wheezed, still smiling, "if people can't figure out what we are by now, that's on them."
Acheron straightened, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. "At least we understand each other."
"That," Aviv said, slinging an arm casually around Acheron's shoulders, "is why we're going to ace this escape room."
Together, still chuckling, they stepped deeper into the dimly lit corridor—two mismatched puzzle pieces that somehow fit perfectly.
After they finally managed to breathe again, both boys turned their attention to the room they'd stumbled into. It was… not exactly thrilling. The space was divided into two: the front section, where they stood, looked like a tiny waiting area with stackable plastic chairs all pointed at a wall-mounted TV already playing a video.
On-screen, a dark forest shivered under the sweep of a pale light. Fog curled around tree trunks like it was trying to hide something. A beam of light drifted until it revealed a silhouette of a crooked and miserable-looking cabin. Then it flickered and dissolved into ghostly white lettering:
THE VANISHING CABIN
From the hidden speakers, an old croaking voice filled the room.
"I have gathered the best of the best, from bank robbers to jewel thieves, even a pair of arms dealers, but they all failed my task. So now… I'm left with you lot."
Aviv leaned in, muttering just loud enough for Acheron to hear, "Wow. Love the vote of confidence, nothing motivates me more than being Plan Z."
Acheron snorted, it was an actual, unguarded little sound which caused him to immediately clap a hand over his mouth like he hadn't meant to laugh that hard. His ears turned a soft pink.
Aviv nudged him with his elbow, grinning. "Careful, sweetheart. If you laugh at my jokes too early, I'll get cocky and start believing I'm hilarious."
"You already believe that," Acheron whispered, still trying not to smile too widely.
"Maybe," Aviv agreed, proudly.
On the TV, the old man's voice droned on, as if annoyed they weren't paying him their full attention.
"Well, I suppose there's no harm in letting you try," the voice rasped, while the camera pushed closer and closer toward the cabin door.
Acheron swallowed, his eyes wide with a mix of nerves and excitement. "Is it weird that I thought the cabin would look… friendlier?"
"It's weird that you thought escape rooms were ever friendly," Aviv deadpanned. Then, softer, teasing, "Stick with me. I've watched at least three horror movies and only cried in one of them."
"You cried?" Acheron blinked.
"Don't act shocked, my tear ducts work, thank you."
Acheron giggled again. It was soft and on the shy side, but definitely delightful. The sound itself is warm and fills the whole room more effectively than the flickering video ever could.
"This is the Vanishing Cabin," the voice rasped. "It only appears once every ten years… and only for sixty minutes. Inside lies an all-powerful jewel known as the Moonstone Relic, and the object of your trial tonight. Beware, this cabin is rigged with traps and puzzles designed to slow your progress. If you fail to escape with the relic before time runs out… You will be lost inside forever."
Acheron tensed as if he had just been personally threatened.
"Good luck," the old voice croaked. "And have fun."
The screen abruptly cut to a massive timer plummeting down from 60:00.
Aviv jumped. "Oh, hell—seriously? Are we starting already? They didn't even let me stretch. I feel robbed."
The second section of the room felt like stepping into the set of an old horror film. The front half of a cabin was built against the back wall, complete with short creaking steps, a wooden porch, and a heavy-looking front door secured with a large four-digit coded padlock.
To the right was a sad, ancient rocking chair sitting on top of a frayed, woven rug that screamed ghost grandma. On the far left, a crooked lantern hung from a rusty hook, glowing a tired yellow. Right in front of the door, sat a welcome mat which bore a messy pattern of dark footprint smudges, like people had tried to get in… or out.
Acheron leaned close and whispered, "Why do I feel like something is going to jump out at us?"
"Because it's spooky", Aviv answered, waving his fingers about in a cheerfully traumatising way.
Before Acheron could respond, Aviv crouched by the welcome mat, lifting it with a flourish like he expected hidden treasure. Instead, beneath it… a perfect, untouched floorboard.
Aviv froze, staring at the empty space with the expression of a man betrayed. Then he stood, dusted his hands, and said airily, "That was a warm-up. I was testing the… structural integrity of the mat."
Acheron giggled, soft and breathy. His eyes crinkled, the corners of his mouth trying so hard not to curl too much.
Aviv regrouped by examining the padlock. "Dual-capable," he noted, tapping the side. "Code and keyhole. Good. I always bring my emergency bobby pin."
Acheron blinked. "…Why?"
"In case of spontaneous crime." Aviv joked, "Actually, just for loose strands of hair."
He pulled the pin from his pocket and stood beside the lock, already working on it. "I've got this."
Acheron drifted toward the lantern, curiosity tugging at him. Up close, the thing looked older than most civilisations. He reached up and, very carefully, lifted it from the hook.
As soon as he moved it, a sudden wash of purple light spilt across the porch floor.
Acheron gasped, eyes sparkling. "Oh!"
The beam revealed swirling marks of invisible paint. As he swung the lantern a bit wider, two glowing numbers emerged on the floorboards:
4
and
8
At the same time, Aviv yelled out: "Ah—shit!" he jerked his hands back from the stubborn padlock. The lock sat there untouched, smug and immovable, but the bobby pin, however, looked like it had been run over by a truck.
Acheron blinked at it. "...It's completely destroyed."
Aviv held up the mangled pin like a fallen soldier. "It looked way easier in the movies. You know, one dramatic wiggle and boom—freedom."
"I was really convinced you actually knew how to pick locks," Acheron admitted, honestly shocked.
Aviv straightened his spine, chin rising. "Confidence is key."
He paused, then muttered, "Except when you need an actual key."
Acheron's lips twitched. He was desperately trying not to laugh, but it was leaking out anyway in small, shy puffs of breath. He lifted the lantern a little higher and in a soft voice said, "Well… I found two digits."
Aviv stared at him. "Already?"
Acheron flushed, lifting the lantern a little higher like a proud, startled moth. "I just… moved it."
"And got our first clue," Aviv declared, then let out a low whistle. "Damn. Alright, puzzle master—tell me where to point my body and my remaining brain cells."
Acheron held the lantern out to him carefully, like he was handing over something precious. "Just… sweep it over the floor again. I doubt there are more numbers, but… just in case."
Aviv took it and made a show of saluting. "On it."
He swung the lantern all over the porch in dramatic arcs, like he was performing a one-man show. Acheron hovered beside him, fingers twisting the edge of his sleeve in that nervous-but-excited way he always did.
After a few passes, Aviv sighed. "Nope. You were right."
He hung the lantern back on its hook, patting it affectionately like it had done its best.
"What's next?" he asked.
"The rocking chair," Acheron said, glancing over. "I think that's the only other thing."
They both crouched around it, inspecting it like suspicious raccoons. Acheron pressed a finger to one of the old scratches, frowning with concentration. Without realising it, while he was thinking he pouted. This made Aviv grin before he quickly looked away.
When they found nothing obvious, Aviv just plopped down on the floor without hesitation.
Acheron flinched. "Your clothes—"
"It's fine," Aviv said, already sticking half his torso under the chair. He checked underneath but found nothing, next he moved onto the chair legs, running his hands over the wood.
Suddenly, a soft click.
A small piece of the leg shifted under his touch.
"I'm. A. Genius," Aviv declared, triumph exploding across his face as he pulled a tiny folded piece of paper free. He opened it with a flourish. "The final two numbers—nine and two!"
"We've got the full code, baby!" Aviv announced, already launching himself toward the door.
They punched in the sequence together.
The padlock beeped, flashing a small green light before popping open with a satisfying snap.
Acheron let out an excited gasp. "We did it."
"We TOTALLY have this in the bag," Aviv said, sweeping the door open with theatrical confidence. "The cabin should be scared of us."
Acheron followed him in, hands clasped in front of him, shoulders tight with thrilled nerves.
They stepped into the cabin, and the door thudded shut behind them, locking out the fake woods and dropping them straight into a cosy, cluttered living room. The space looked like someone had tried to decorate using equal parts thrift stores and old fairy tales.
Miscellaneous objects were scattered everywhere: framed sketches, piles of mismatched books, lace doilies, children's toys, and wooden boxes with suspicious hinges. But even with all that chaos, Acheron's gaze was immediately drawn to the massive stone fireplace dominating the far wall. It looked old but also majestic; he couldn't help but gravitate toward it almost instinctively.
He passed an overstuffed, ancient couch and a child's rocking horse that creaked even though no one touched it. A large coffee table sat in front of the couch, with a beautifully patterned tea set arranged neatly on top. The set looked fancy, like porcelain painted with tiny gold leaves.
Aviv picked up a teacup with the delicacy of someone expecting it to be fragile crystal, but with a gentle Click, he quickly discovered that it was plastic.
He burst into laughter, loudly and with full commitment; he felt silly for his expectations.
"Of course it's fake," he groaned dramatically, placing it back into its saucer with exaggerated care.
Acheron glanced over, trying not to smile too visibly, but he failed. His shoulders were trembling a little.
Aviv straightened up, noticing an entire wall plastered with photographs, hundreds of them, all in different shapes and sizes. Some were tinted sepia, others bright and crisp. He scanned each one with suspicion, lifting a few off the wall to peek behind them, but only a blank wall greeted him.
Meanwhile, Acheron was quietly inspecting the fireplace mantle. His fingertips brushed across the decorations placed on top of it; there were tiny ceramic figurines, small pots of plastic plants, and finally a neat stack of books. He ran his fingers across the book spines, only pausing on the thickest one, and he pulled it out gently.
It was a faded children's illustration book. Soft pastel colours, whimsical borders and old folklore drawings that looked like they belonged in a museum brochure.
Acheron's breath caught slightly. On the spine stood the publisher's logo, the familiar curling vine and crescent, which was the same as The Riddle House's logo.
His pulse quickened with that familiar, sweet spark of discovery.
He carried the book carefully to the couch, sitting on the edge with his knees tucked close, almost unconsciously making himself small as he opened it. He skimmed the index first and discovered ten stories, none he recognised.
He didn't bother reading. Instead, he flipped through the pages, letting the dreamy illustrations wash over him. There was something gentle about his focus, the way he examined each page as though it deserved reverence.
Then his eyes caught something—
A delicate drawing of a tea set. The exact same tea set sat on the coffee table, currently right in front of him.
Acheron perked up immediately, almost like a startled kitten who spotted a toy. He stood and crossed to the table, leaning in to study the pattern printed on the cups. Then he flipped back to the start of the story. His voice was soft, barely a notch above a whisper, but full of certainty.
"I think this is it," he said, glancing at Aviv with a shy flash of triumph. "This story… it has the same tea set."
He flipped through the pages, decided not to read anything, and just focused on each drawing. He appreciates its unique, whimsical style. As he paged, he spotted a beautiful tea set and recognised it as one of the objects in the room with him currently.
Eron walked over the set, studying the integrated design pattern printed on it. He flipped back to the beginning of the story and read it out loud for Aviv to hear as well.
Aviv drifted over to Acheron like a moth drawn to a very pretty, very focused flame. He leaned over Acheron's shoulder, close enough that a few curls of his hair brushed Acheron's cheek.
"Read it for me," Aviv begged.
Acheron tried not to smile at the request. His cheeks warmed as he held the book up.
He smoothed the page gently with his thumb.
Then he read aloud for Aviv to hear.