❛. - ❜
[⛅ #isekai]┊
[⛅ #xreader]
[☀️#haikyuu]┊
[☀️#fanfiction]
each secret is unraveled
one by one, the locks fall apart
till you finally realize
the truth is far away
farther th...
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(My slacker life is fading)
▽
You sat on the edge of your bed, staring blankly at space as if everything around you was a baseless system of worth for materials you deemed unnecessary for your existence. Blinking, you tried to process the whole occurrence of the day that left your mind in a state that made white-noise screech against your ears.
Sharply, you breathed in as you scurried towards the door of your bedroom and in the direction of the living room where your family kept an album for all of your achievements. It wasn't anything fancy, it wasn't even filled because you barely did anything that was note-worthy. You had never bothered with it till now because you had just realised that there were huge differences between you and Chika.
You thought you could live your life without any issues because it seemed like you didn't need to pretend to be someone else but that wasn't the main concern right now -- it was the fact that Chika was an overachiever while you were someone who would've never dreamed of such things. The pressure was immense, it was weighing on your shoulders and it was difficult to even stand straight with seemingly all eyes on you to perform as well as someone who had trained for years.
You reached over to grab the photo album from the shelf, the spine worn and the cover a little tattered as you sat on the sofa, opening up the book-like item as you set it down on your lap, gaze directed at the first sight that greeted you, a well-preserved photo of your ultrasound as you quickly turned it over, trying to view the other photos that didn't exist in your own world.
Your fingers paused, perhaps twitching once or twice as your orbs trembled. There were multiple photos of you, no Chika, attending volleyball matches -- pictures of someone that you knew wasn't you but still looked exactly like you, a copy that managed to replicate each fibre of your appearance but managed to achieve so much more than you. The back of your neck went cold, as if there was a ghost of a hand that lingered at your nape and you exhaled shakily at the sensation.
