Las Vegas is also a monster, like L.A was. But it's different. Where L.A was fame, Las Vegas is the pleasure and the pain. Everything inside its inner walls is built for your high, so that you never have to come down again.

But I'm fully into the come down, and I can't even get away from it. It lingers around me like this fucking dirty cloud that strikes lightning to remind that yep, it's still here.

Moving from place to place is even harder here because everyone knows we travelled by road in a giant tacky bus with our names on the side. It was such a stupid idea, really; where's the privacy in advertising our every location? It means that when Candice comes to see our show in a few days, we can't even greet her at the airport. I'd been planning to stand with Demitri at arrivals and welcome her with shouts and cheers, but when Mitch had overheard our plans he shut them down as quickly as we'd thought of them. Airports are fucking awful anyway, but when everyone knows who you are, the thought of stepping inside one without a bodyguard is shit scary. I've done it before, I've seen the footage on Youtube played back to me.

Yeah, no airports.

We thankfully make it into the hotel in one piece, gripping onto each other so we don't lose anyone in the sea of people. I know it's not the same fans that crowded us in L.A, they couldn't have followed us here, but even so they all start to blur into one. Teenage girls with our band logo painted on their faces, tears rolling down their cheeks, shoving pictures of me to my torso hoping I'll sign.

But one of my hands holds Oliver's, who's storming in front, following a bodyguard, my other hand gripped onto Luke, dragging him behind me. People still don't know that it was him who released the photo, but if they did, if they ever have an inkling, I hope they know that's over with now, that Luke feels nothing but shame, as his hand shivers in mine from the lack of substance he's had for the last few days.

I know why he's been so eager to come to Vegas, I know it's a piece of piss to find what he's looking for here.

Not like its hard when you're a celebrity, anyway. They might as well have a gloved servant hand him paraphernalia on a golden plate.

.....

I see Candice at the airport before I see Candice in person. A snap taken a few hours ago, struggling through the crowds, sunglasses as big as her head. I guess she's famous now, but I know she didn't want it. Instead of fans calling her name and asking for autographs, it's just middle-aged men with giant cameras, knocking her giant hat as the her bodyguards shoves them out the way. I come off Twitter after that; I'll see her for real at some point today, if she can get here alive.

Demitri is next to me pulling on the lever of the one armed bandit that apparently he knows is gunna make him win big. This hotel has got it's own private casino only for paying guests, and so we're free to move about if we want.

"Honestly mate, I don't wanna be a pretentious twat but...why do you need to win this money when we already have so much?" I wince at my words. I hate saying shit like that, hate reminding people that we're rolling in it. Because while people must know, must know, that a member of a worldwide famous band is rich, they still like to hear about it and talk about it.

It'll never sink in.

"Yeah but it's the thrill, Scottie. You ever seen those films where people win big and money flies out the machine? We're in Vegas, you're supposed to win." His eyes are wide and he makes a weird whooping noise every time he pulls the lever. It's like Demitri on fire. I don't know if it's better than Demitri who refuses to get out of bed, or more or less the same.

"Guess who?" The world goes dark. I feel Candice's breathe by my ear as she giggles. I laugh, wriggling out of her a grip and prize her hands off my eyes and turn. My face falls; she looks completely different. Her long black hair has been hacked off, now a sharp bob just above her shoulders. Her cheekbones are bloody sharp too, and the bags under her eyes are long and dark.

But she grins at me and reaches on her tip toes and squeezes me tight against her.

"Goodness, I've missed you." She says, moving my hair about between her fingers like a doting mother. We've got this whole new dynamic; I've never had a female friend before (aside from the one-sided friendship a lot of female fans have with me, I'm sure. Sometimes I follow them back on Twitter just see their hilarious capitalized tweets, thanking me) but I realise when I see Candice's bright but tired face that I actually really like it. "Christ," She sees Demi behind me, smacking the side of the one armed bandit like it just, you know, stole his money. "I didn't see you there, little bro."

"Four minutes, Candice. You're older by four minutes." He says, but still spins in his chair to engulf her in his arms. He kisses her cheek. "You look like shite, by the way. I like your hair."

Candice slaps him on the arm, and I think about doing it too.

"Nice to see you too. Mamá dice hola, por cierto."

"I don't know what that means." Demitri makes his Irish accent even stronger, and Candice just rolls her eyes.

"I don't wanna agree with him, Candice, but you...do look a bit different. Know what I mean?" I stuff my hands in my pockets, waiting for a hit on the arm of my own, but instead comes down turned eyes and a firmer grip on her hand bag.

"I still have to unpack, actually. You wanna come help?" We stare at each other for what feels like years, until I finally get it.

"Oh...umm...yeah, ok." We both leave Demitri, who barely notices us disappear, still cheering and whooping as he wins a couple of dollars here and there, but nothing compared to how much he makes a minute just by existing. Candice's head turns every time he shouts, looking back on her twin as we leave the casino into the lift and up to the floor we have to ourselves, one that she was allowed a room on.

"I don't think he's been taking his medication." She says to me, but more to herself. I know this is one of the real reasons why Candice is here. "But I can't force him to take them."

I'm silent. I know Demitri is sometimes Demitri and sometimes he isn't – that's what I call it. But I know that's inaccurate, and I know that it tires out the whole Fitzpatrick family, especially doting Candice, who had such a public breakup, and dealt with the aftermath. She now has to deal with her twin brother spiraling until we won't recognize him, regardless of it it's a manic or a depressive state.

I press my hand into her shoulder and give it a squeeze. "We're all glad you're here though, even Demi. He's really missed you." She smiles and nods. "But...that's not why we're going to ...unpack, is it?"

She shakes her head. "So, I heard you're in love with my ex-boyfriend?"