I fly through the air towards a boy, who uses his forearms to send me towards my favourite person, the #2. I love him so much!

Why? Why would I prefer one human over another? They all treat me the same, right?

Well, it's the feeling #2 gives me. His fingers barely cushion me against them before launching me through the air. I then sail to a spiker – there are a few instances their timing goes a bit skewed, but when they do match me, I am slammed into the ground on the other side. I hate that, but it makes #2 happy, so I try not to mind too much. He really does need to smile more often.

As always, #2 doesn't let me stop for a second before sending me to #5, who, for once, manages to sync with the toss and spikes me into the hardwood floor.

The orange blur in front of me looks on, putting on a fake grin. I feel a little bad for him – he seems nice. Also, he would be very good for #2.

I come back to reality when the wind is knocked out of me and I can barely see, but as I spin and bounce, I catch glimpses of his eyes shining – his version of a smile.

I feel warm. I haven't seen him smile in so long that it feels simply amazing to see this.

#2's team is ahead 19 – 17 in the third set of the match. It looks like they'll win.

I ready myself to fly again as I soar toward him. I land on his fingers for a split second, and soar in a graceful arc, waiting to be spiked down into the floor on the other side of the net –

And fall to the ground a few feet away from him.

There is no one there, no one ready to spike. I shrug it off since this happens from time to time, the spiker having missed, but then I suddenly realise something.

I heard nobody jump, didn't feel a rush of air next to me signifying a missed toss.

It couldn't be…?

I catch a look at his face and see the awful truth.

They

abandoned

him.

#2's team loses that match.

He doesn't shed a tear, but I know he's crying inside.

#2 holds me gently in his hands.

"Happy graduation to me," he says softly to himself, and I feel something wet fall on me. "Happy graduation, Tobio."

So that's his name. Tobio. It's nice.

He continues speaking.

"You're a horrible person. That's why you have no friends. That's why they abandoned you. You don't deserve to play volleyball at all, Tobio,"

I catch a glimpse of his face, alarmed to see that tears are dripping down his cheeks.

Being a volleyball, I can't do much in the way of comforting him, but I shift a little, just so much so that it's unnoticeable, and – well, there is no other way to describe this.

I snuggle a bit deeper into his arms.

"Volleyball is the only thing that ever accepted me," Tobio continues; I feel some more wetness. He's still crying.

I cuddle a little closer, little enough to be imperceptible.

Tobio's long arms suddenly snake around me, hugging me to himself and holding on tight.

Even though I'm an inanimate object, I try to comfort him.

His shoulders stop shaking after a bit – he slumps down onto me and I stay where I am. I couldn't move if I tried, but I don't need to – it's as much as I can do that Tobio isn't crying anymore.

Tobio and I are in a gym not familiar to me, but he seems absolutely comfortable here.

I wince when he spins me and realises he's going to practice jump serves. I hate those.

Tobio tosses me high in the air. I sail farther and farther up till I reach the highest point of my flight and begin to fall back down.

He's timed his jump just right, and the second I begin to drop, he is there, slamming me clean into the other side of the court. His serve is extremely powerful, but also not as accurate as he seems to want it, for I don't smack into the bottle he's lined up on the other side of the court, instead going just a little bit to its left. I'm quite relieved – it hurts to slam into something as big and full of water as a bottle, you know! – but Tobio seems to be frustrated, as evidenced by his angered yell.

He storms across and picks me back up, then prepares for another serve when he is interrupted by the doors slamming open.

The orange blur from the match where Tobio last smiled pants in the doorway.

I am dropped to the floor, where I bounce for a while before settling down.

I watch as they begin to fight, and wince when they're both kicked out of the gym.

Looks like I won't be seeing Tobio for a while.

The next time I see him is the first time I see him trust in someone.

He's playing a 3 on 3 – the orange blur and a bald boy are on his team. A stocky, solid-looking kid, a tall, lanky blonde and a boy who seems very nervous are opposite them.

Tobio's tosses aren't the way they used to be. I'm not having much fun – he's tossing like every other setter who I've ever been tossed by.

I sail down towards him, expecting another boring toss –

And suddenly I am slicing through the air, flying at top speed, and the orange blur is behind me – I can feel him – and he slams me straight down into the court, and out of the corner of my vision I see Tobio's eyes shine and sparkle again.

I was right.

The orange blur is good for Tobio.

A year later, I am not surprised when Tobio admits out loud to himself, clutching me, that Hinata – I figure this is the blur's name – is his best friend, and that he wouldn't know what he'd do without him.

"I'm silly," he chuckles, "Talking to a volleyball. I mean, it's a pretty good confidante, it won't tell anyone, it can't, but seriously?"

Oh, you have no idea, Tobio. I'm why all volleyballs love you. Even if you don't know that they love you.

The weird object Tobio sometimes taps on or talks to starts buzzing, and he picks it up.

"Hello? Hinata? Yeah, okay. Yeah. I'll be there. Now? Okay."

He drops me on his bed without a second glance and shrugs on a clean shirt and jacket, striding quickly out of the room.

Even though he just ditched me, I'm happy.

I'm happy that he's happy.

And now all volleyballs can go back to being non-sentient, says a voice in my head.

Wait… what?