“What? What’s wrong?” asked Randy, suddenly wondering if Chad had a heart condition, and not a neurological one.

Chad looked at Randy and answered his question honestly and truly: “I think I just fell in love with you there, Randy.”

And Chad looked at Randy.

And then he suddenly and completely—and almost in slow motion—crumpled to the ground again, his knees hitting first and the rest of his body following until he had face-planted in the snow again.

Randy jumped away from Chad as he fell.

“Whoa,” said Chad, laughing, and feeling a little delirious—but freer than he had ever felt. “Yup—that’s what that was. Me falling in love with you.”

Randy stared at Chad, wondering what the heck was happening. And started backing away from him slowly—like he was possessed. Or dangerous.

Chad started to get up again.

And when he was back on his feet, he looked at Randy and suddenly and completely and almost in slow motion crumpled onto the snow again.

And he laughed again—a confused, amused laugh.

But Randy was not amused. And he charged Chad. “What are you—drunk?” he demanded.

“I don’t think so.”

“Get up!” Randy bent over and pulled Chad into an upright position, and Chad protested, because he knew he was just going to fall down again. And he was right, because, no sooner was he upright than he was past upright and crumpling down onto the snow-covered ground again.

“WOULD YOU CUT THAT OUT?!?” Randy yelled apoplectically.

“WELL, I CAN’T HELP IT!!” Chad yelled back, sitting up. “IT JUST KINDA CAME OVER ME!! I’VE FALLEN IN LOVE WITH YA, HERE!!” Chad had never heard himself speak with such force or authority before. And neither had Randy. And it scared both of the young men.

Randy took in what Chad had just said. And didn’t move. For a while.

He was so angry.

“Chad,” said Randy. His voice was low, and his demeanor was eerily calm. “I’m your best buddy in the whole world,” he began. “And I don’t quite know what you’re doin’ or what you’re goin’ on about … but … what is your PROBLEM?!? What are you DOIN’?!? YOU’RE MY BEST FRIEND!”

“Yeah—” protested Chad weakly.

“OR YOU USED TO BE!” roared Randy. “AND WHEN YOU’RE FRIENDS—WELL, YOU DON’T MESS WITH THAT! AND YOU MESSED WITH IT!” He started back up the snowbank. But realized he wasn’t done yet and wheeled around and charged Chad again. “’Cause, you know somethin’?” he said, his voice calm but intense. “You’re about the only thing that feels really good and makes sense in this world to me, too, and now you’ve gone and fouled it up, by doin’ this whatever-it-is-you’re-doin’”—he indicated Chad, who was still sitting in the snow—“And tellin’ me … what you told me.” He couldn’t bring himself to repeat exactly what Chad had told him, because it was the most disgusting thing he had ever been told. “And now,” he added, “nothin’ makes sense at all!” And then he roared again, “AND NOTHIN’ FEELS GOOD!”