DAICHI often sat outside Suga's house after school with a volleyball in his hands. It was the one they'd brought from some store back in the first year with only a couple quarters to spare. He remembers the day like yesterday, when it was sunny and bright outside. It must've been in the mixture of autumn and summer, when orange filled the sky because he remembers Suga's face and smile, and the way it seemed to light up in the sunset. I want to be a setter! He had said. A setter he was as well. That was until he'd walked out of Karasuno six months ago.

And thus followed the worst six months of Daichi's life.

He wants to ring the doorbell. He knows it's feel, the rust of the metal because the house is old and Suga's parents liked the authenticity of it. He knows the rhythm of knocking against the door, the clicks and splinters that peak out from the wood, knows what flowers bloom best in the porch, knows where the sun shines most prominently in summer as sunrise occurs. It's spring now, so the sun is less luminous than it can be. Daichi rolls the ball between his hands. Should he knock? Should he intrude? Does Suga even want to see him?

No one exactly knew why he left.

He'd just...snapped. Had enough, apparently. Everyone knew that that day was not a good one for Suga from the second he walked in. His eyes were red, and his cheeks puffy, and his jacket was slung over his shoulder in a dishevelled way. No one, however, expected him to say what he said next. No one expected to hear the words:

I'm leaving.

The door shut after that.

Daichi looks to the doorbell again. He misses its chime. He misses seeing Suga run down the stairs with toast in his mouth. He misses rounding the corner to see Asahi waiting impatiently, going on and on and on about how they were gonna be late even though they had half an hour to spare. Most importantly, though, Daichi misses his friend.

He stops the ball from rolling, spinning it between his hands. The sun touches the sky in a small embrace, daring not to part. He knows it will be dark when he gets home, knows his parents will chide and ask where he has been. He's done this for months, and his answer is always the same: just seeing Suga. He never saw Suga. He only wishes to see him.

"I miss you." He whispers through the door, head leaning against it. The ball rests in Daichi's hands. "Maybe I'll come tomorrow?" He picks up his bag and walks away from the house until it becomes a blur.

Suga watches from his window.