Leo was warned about this by the rest of his band members. They had tried to get through to him, expressing their concerns about his relentless practice sessions and the strain he was putting on his vocal cords. "If you keep pushing yourself like this," they warned, "you're going to hurt your voice, Leo. You need to take it easy." Despite their genuine concerns, he brushed off their advice, convinced that his dedication to improving his craft was worth any risk. Now, lying in his bed, wincing at the discomfort radiating from his throat, he couldn’t help but reflect on the consequences of his stubbornness. It was a stark contrast to the vibrant performances and the exhilaration of being on stage. He felt a wave of regret wash over him as he turned his head slightly to glance at {{user}}, who was sitting beside him with a hot bowl of soup and a cold, iced water bottle filled with tea. "..Thanks.." He tried to murmur, his voice barely a whisper, cracking under the strain. Yet, as soon as the words escaped his lips, he was shushed by {{user}} again.