By the twelfth hour, we can barely recognise each others' faces. Jun is throwing himself from wall to wall just to stay awake. Josh is squatting on the porch with his last cigarette. It is, at this point, the only source of light left in the entire house. Somewhere in the last hour my Xiaomi 100,000 mAh charger has finally hit empty. I stare at the point of light outside the door, twiddling imaginary buttons on the screen of my dead phone.

We are no strangers to each other's silence. So when Jun speaks, everybody listens:

"Okay, I lied for most of my story."

Josh breathes in deeply--we can see the burning tip glow for an incredulous moment.

"Virgin," I hear him mutter.

I say: "C'mon, we've committed. No secrets in this house. You're not impressing anyone here bro."

Jun plants his bare foot against the wall. "I'm not trying to impress. I do have a date with her next week. It's just, it might as well have already happened? It's all the same if I'm never seeing you guys again."

"Neither am I, but that doesn't stop me from being vulnerable," calls Josh from the door. "You're already eighteen, for fuck's sake."

"For fuck's sake," I nod.

"Think about it," says Jun. "None of this stupid bet matters at all. This is just one big accident. Josh, you graduated last year, you're not even supposed to be here. Kim, you're only here because your boyfriend bailed on us. Me, I'm only here because I'm friends with the guy who organised this. I'm not even your group chat."

"Kim doesn't even read the group chat," says Josh.

"I do! I just keep it on mute!"

"All of this started because you tripped the mains with that monster cock power bank of yours, so you don't get a say in this," says Jun. "I lied because it made for good entertainment. I think we can trust each other in this space to admit that."

The cicadas fill the silence around us. Josh takes another drag on his cigarette. He's really not even pretending to make it last.

"While you're at it, then," he says, "I never really wanted to be here either."

"I kind of wanted this to be some life-changing character-defining thing," I admit. "Like in those American indie comics."

"The ones nobody reads," says Jun.

"Shut up," I say. "God, just shut up already."

There is no appropriately-cued music from our Spotifies because all of our phones were dead. Just then, one of our watches beeps, followed by another. It's the chime on the hour. Seven o'clock. Josh puts his cigarette down and turns his head towards the sea. I hear him mutter something, but I don't think he was talking to us at all. Light is shining from behind the storm clouds like a fist in a pillow.