Week 9 Prompt, 2 of 3

41. You never know what you have until it's gone.

He was a little weird.  He had a five o’ clock shadow, a bit pudgy around the face, and long, lustrous black hair pulled back into a pony tail.  At the orientation luncheon I watched with disgust as he ate his sandwich, smacking noises emanating from his mouth, bits of onion and green pepper falling from the sandwich.  He sat with me at an orientation video.  “I have to go get a pencil, to take notes,” I lied.  I moved several rows back and sat there.
….
They were friends and I wanted to be her friend too.  Inevitable that we should hang out together.  Things shift and we are the inseparable trio; if someone wants to find one of us, the answer is always “they’re with the other one”.  Things shift again though, and to my despair she hates me, I can’t repair it, can’t repair a problem I don’t understand.  He remains with us, separate but steadfast to both.  Eventually, she drifts from him, too.  Just the two of us now.  We become like brother and sister.  Closer.  I never had a brother, so I don’t know, but I feel closer than that.
….
I’ve grown so much as a person because of him.  He feels the same way, but I feel I am more student, he more a teacher.  Sometimes we become tired of our roles and we argue.  He has a snake charmer’s tongue, can make people decades older than him come around to his ways of thinking.  His gentle confidence exudes from him, always.  He tells me about his sad, dark past.  Sometimes I’m overwhelmed, hearing it.  I can’t imagine such cruelty growing up.  I’m kind and friendly to his parents though, when I meet them.  He knows my family in and out; he’s quick to support me.  I can’t imagine life without him.
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He’s changing, but I don’t want to see.  Others see, but I don’t want to.  We’ve graduated but still live here, in this small, quiet town.  He gets irritated with me more, wants to see me less.  I can’t understand why.  He talks about how he sometimes feels the need to abuse smaller, weaker things.  He reveals to me that he put his roommate’s kitten in the freezer, long enough to badly scare it.  He trusts me, trusts me knowing this dark part of him.  He is still my friend; we talk about it in somber tones.  I try to be friends with someone I now consider a monster, try to understand something so alien to me.
….
California, in the southern part.  I visit him, struggling with my sad life, needing a break.  We spend two weeks together.  Tension is there, and the old camaraderie.  I don’t know why it has to be so different.  We hug goodbye at the airport.  I feel like I ate a whole meal, but I’m still not satisfied.