A.N.: Hey guys, A.J. here. This is my second contribution to the Jogan Gondola. Sorry if they seem OOC: who knows how they'd actually act when (not if-WHEN) they get together. Again, I wrote this in an unusual format, hence a lot of the content being implied and such, but I am actually proud of the way it came out, so here you go.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything you peoples recognize; Glee belongs to RIB and Fox, Jules and Lo to the amazing CPCoulter, and the lyrics are obviously from Nelly's "Just a Dream." Again, not mine.

At first, I was soaring. There wasn't a single existing planet in the cosmos I couldn't visit, nor any cloud I was unable to pass through as I pleased.

Then, it was all over. I found myself falling without warning; I plunged headfirst down to earth from countless miles above, with the slate of my mind wiped blank. No scream escaped my lips. Instead of alarm, I felt numbness and sudden exhaustion. All the lights in the universe flickered before being extinguished, and I saw no more.

"Does it hurt?" I rolled my dark eyes at the absurdity of the question.

"Imagine that both your arms were hacked off by a psycho wielding a blunt axe. Would that hurt?"

"Well, excuse me, you snarky primadonna, I was just saying that it doesn't look as bad as it should," he grumbled and continued to dab the damp cloth at my bloody wounds, which were now semi-dried and therefore crusty.

"Don't call me that," I huffed and swept my tousled hair out of my face. I hadn't bothered to notice before, but it had grown to an obscene length as of late: it nearly reached my shoulders.

"But it suits you," he insisted. "I've known you for a grand total of one hour and you are the most stuck-up diva I've ever had the misfortune to meet." Well. That was certainly a sobering remark from the Adonis.

"If my presence is so unappealing to you, then why are you doing all this? I never asked for your help," I snapped, my new found bitter feelings seeping into my tone of voice. "And surely you have the option of dumping an unwanted burden like me elsewhere." Emerald eyes narrowed into menacing slits.

"Contrary to popular belief, I am not an unfeeling monster." I had struck a nerve. Mental note to self…

"Whatever. Anyways, they'll grow back eventually and you'll be rid of me then."

Lies.

He paused in his movements.

"And if they don't?" I craned my neck to stare at my back, at the place between my shoulder blades where the last tufts of feathers, caked in liquid crimson, stuck out at odd angles.

Where my wings used to be, prior to my fall.

"Then…I can never go back."

Why did I fall from the sky when I was supposed to remain in heaven's glory for all of eternity? I had several theories, each even more preposterous than the last. But the loss of an angel's brilliant wings is not a common occurrence—when it did happen, however, it was because it was necessary for them to complete a specific, time-sensitive task in the mortal world, as mortals themselves. Said task is unknown even to them until it has been achieved: it's the reason why barely any regain their wings and once again are welcomed into the gilded heavenly paradise.

I knew this; everyone of my kind did. I just never imagined that I would be one of the condemned.

Days became weeks, and while I healed at an agonizingly slow pace, I stayed with my rescuer, despite the fact that we irked and even angered each other on a regular basis. A great deal of furniture and dishware suffered as a result of the disputed turned violent of his part. The severity of his anger issues was astounding. The truth was that I was utterly dependent on him; the habits of humans and the technology in itself were completely foreign to me.

Additionally, I had to accustom myself to the vital processes of consuming food and drink to remain alive. To do so had never been necessary in the entire history of my existence.

Weeks turned into months. I considered myself a parasite to my host—everything was done for my gain although I contributed nothing. I wasn't even able to keep myself occupied with actively searching for my goal since it was utterly pointless. My soul was doomed to remain here as a disgrace.

"Why haven't you grown them back already?" A ceramic picture frame hurled across the room and narrowly missed my unflinching head. Smash. "It's been a year, and the only thing you're good at is whining and complaining like the spoiled bitch you are! You don't even do anything!"

"I'm aware of how utterly useless I am!" I shot back. "There's no need to remind me! I KNOW!" He ignored me.

"And where do you randomly keep sneaking off to? I can never tell when you're going to disappear or when you'll return!" My face flushed at that—I always took off to the nearby park or the public library whenever he brought over his latest flavor of the week, fully convinced that each was "the one". When I caught the couple together, white-hot, sharp stabbing pains flooded my chest and I was convinced that I would double over in agony one of these days. These episodes were also accompanied with the inability to properly fill my lungs with oxygen, so I had to escape in order to attain a bit of relief, but even that didn't have the desired effect when I involuntarily imagined the pair tangled in various compromising positions. I simply couldn't remain anywhere near the estate at those times.

"Where I go is none of your business, you stupid squid! What do you care, anyways? You told me yourself when we first met that you can't stand me!"

"Yeah, I can't! Do you have any idea how loathsome you are?!" A costly lamp crashed to the tile in his fury.

The fight escalated from that point, and when it was over, I limped away sporting a new black eye and a split lip as my battle scars. He remained unscathed. This was always the result. It mattered not how he behaved toward me; I refused to let myself raise a single hand against him, even in self defense.

"What's that?" I gestured toward the curious red outline of a shape that adorned the letter he was in the process of writing in longhand. On closer inspection, I saw that it was addressed to the pretty, pale, sapphire-eyed brunet he had been infatuated with for a month or so now. Mild chest pains commenced immediately.

"It's a heart, princess." The fountain pen resumed its scratching on the thick stationery.

"Really?" I had never seen a heart before. I'd heard a brief description once, long ago, but it concerned bodily organs and told him so.

"There are two types." An exasperated sigh. "I have to get this done for tonight and you're distracting me. Shoo," he waved me away in the same manner one would a pesky fly. I exited the study without another word.

It wasn't the least bit necessary for me to ask how the date had gone—the deafening slam of the front door over two hours early was impossible to misinterpret.

"…despicable…ungrateful…" His muttering, along with a few choice words, was audible from the kitchen. "…any idea how much I spent on—" he cut himself off in order to fling his uncooperative dress shoe at the nearest wall. The over-sized mirror on it trembled and threatened to fall with the force of the shock. I was fed up with his unsuccessful ploys as much as he was, so I intervened.

"Here's a thought, Your Royal Majesty: have you ever actually tried talking to any of your dates?" The exaggerated sarcasm was part of the façade I had adopted as a coping mechanism, as twisted as it seemed. His gelled head snapped up in the direction of my voice.

"Huh?" I leaned against the granite island, a hand placed saucily on my hip.

"Talking. You might actually advance in your relationship with one of those hussies if you would only converse with them. Quit attempting to buy them off. Even if you cater to their tastes, it's insulting," I ranted as bright eyes bore into me. "Get to know them first; everybody's favorite topic of discussion is themselves. Just try to act how a normal human being would for once." The pair of emerald orbs blinked once before his mouth transformed into a scowl.

"As if you're qualified to lecture me about being human—you aren't even one yourself, you freak," he spat and stomped up the carpeted stairs.

I had already anticipated his reaction, and it wasn't any less than I expected, but it still stung nonetheless. I exhaled deeply. I should be used to this by now…

"What's your surname?" The glass of pulpy orange juice froze on its way to my mouth; I placed it back down on the coaster, sure I had misheard.

"What?"

"What's your surname?" he repeated, his own steaming mug of black coffee ignored, apparently in favor of interrogating me. "I realize that I should know something as trivial as this, but you've never mentioned it nor have I once thought to ask you over the course of this past year." This was true: I knew practically everything there was to know about the blond, including that he knew next to nothing when it concerned me. Then again, I had never volunteered any tidbits of information, either.

I worried my bottom lip between my teeth.

"Larson. Larson-Armstrong, actually," I mumbled. My fingers fiddled nervously with the silver spoon in front of me as I purposely avoided his scrutinizing gaze.

"Do you miss being up there?" he pressed on.

"I wasn't aware that we'd started a round of 20 Questions. Why the sudden interest?" The spoon clattered to the floor in my agitation. "I've never gotten so much as a 'how are you' before, and now I receive the third degree? What's your angle here?" His eyes flashed warningly.

"You were the one to tell me that engaging in conversation with somebody might actually be an idea to consider in the first place. At least have enough sense to humor me as I put everything I have out on the line would you?" My jaw dropped open to resemble a capital "O" at his outburst. The metal legs of his chair scraped roughly against the tile as he stood in preparation to leave.

"Yes." The solitary word was evidently enough for him. "And no." His seat was filled once more.

"Tell me." I did. It was as if some invisible force controlled my tongue, but I found myself gradually opening up to him for the first time.

"You mean outside?" I inquired, puzzled by the request.

"No. Well, that too but that's, um, not exactly—not the main purpose. I mean, uh, never mind. Do, do you w-want to, though?" he fumbled with his words as he scratched the back of his flaming pink neck, both of those very rare sights to behold. Why was he behaving in this manner all of a sudden? His explanation didn't clarify anything, but I went along with it anyways.

"Sure."

A wide grin overtook his entire face at my response. The blush he'd induced spread to my ears when I realized that that gorgeous smile of his was directed at me. If I'd known that's what his reaction would be, I'd agreed immediately.

"Really? Okay then. Good. Great. Okay, cool," he babbled as I directed my own smile toward the carpeted floor. This was a rather nice turn of events in a lengthy series of disastrous ones, on both of our parts.

The initial awkwardness that was palpable in the surrounding air soon faded away as we chatted freely about anything and everything over grilled chicken sandwiches smothered in mayonnaise and a thermos of iced tea. This was actually happening; this was not just some figment of my needy, overactive imagination, and I took great pleasure in that scrap of knowledge.

I tilted back my head and gazed at the great expanse of blue canvas stretched above me. My thoughts, however, didn't turn to flying or going back to where I belonged. Instead, I focused on the gleeful feeling I was currently experiencing and could hardly contain.

His warm hand tentatively covered mine, and in a burst of confidence, I turned it over and laced our fingers together as I lay down on the checkered cloth, the only separation from the dirt beneath. He followed suit but gently tugged at my waist so I rested on my side; our faces were literally no more than an inch apart. It appeared that I wasn't the only one with the ability to be so forward.

His breath ghosted over my mouth, and despite the heat, a delicious chill ran down my spine.

"May I?" The gentleman in him decided to make an appearance.

"You may."

His lips eagerly connected with my own, and the explosion of a dozen supernovas followed. Nothing else in my life had ever reached this level of right and perfect, and I had to wonder how I had possibly survived for century after grueling century without his kiss. It was the ultimate cure to a raging disease I wasn't even aware I suffered from.

The tables of our situation had turned so drastically and so suddenly, my head should have been spinning, but the negative thoughts never entered my brain. I would not have hesitated to claw the very eyes out of anybody who would've had the nerve to remind me that all good things must eventually come to a screeching halt. This was my moment.

Our moment.

I decided that I was entitled to be lazy and not change out of my sleepwear or even bother to tame my recently trimmed hair. I was clad in nothing but a borrowed old pair of his sweatpants, and I must've given off the appearance of having stuck a fork in the toaster. "Death warmed over" is the proper expression, I believe.

I padded into the den, where he was already, fisting away the remaining sleep. The antique grandfather clock read 2:37; in my defense, I had taken ill only yesterday and my persistent cough kept me up until the crack of dawn.

All it took was a single look from him. "You're the most beautiful person to ever grace this earth."

A single tear of joy curved down my cheek at his sweet words. Because I knew he genuinely meant it.

I faintly heard my name being called frantically from what seemed to be light years away. Or maybe I was merely hallucinating: this trance was defiantly messing with my senses as it was.

There was an infinite number of glowing dots, tiny pinpricks of light, in this otherwise strange, inky darkness. They were so pretty. Soothing warmth enveloped my entire body and nothing else mattered; I could've died content.

Thinking 'bout us…put your hands up…if you ever…down that road…no one knows…I realize…

The distorted lyrics and rhythm of a long forgotten song intended for another thrummed in my ear canals. I didn't have a clue as to what t could symbolize, or why it played on loop in the first place. For my own entertainment, perhaps? In this realm, nothing was considered impossible.

That voice. His voice—he was closer, but how had he covered so much ground in a handful of minutes? My name again.

I blinked and was startled to discover that I was positively drenched; to say that the rain poured down like a waterfall would be an understatement. Droplets clung to my eyelashes, and my teeth clacked together from the icy water. He shook me by the shoulders to grab my attention.

"… got over being sick not even a week ago!" He had been saying when I tuned in. "What were you thinking?!" I had no memory of every leaving my bed, let alone strolling outdoors to bask in the frigid rainfall.

My facial expression remained passive as I gave my response to the obviously rhetorical question: "It's cleansing."

And indeed it was—I'd always had a fondness for rain, the sensation of being refreshed, the moist, earthy scent that followed, the way the glistening drops made everything sparkle brilliantly—I craved it.

He just laughed good-naturedly and wrapped his strong arms around me in a tight embrace. "You're a strange one, J." He scooped me up, to my eternal embarrassment, and proceeded to carry me bridal-style back the house as I clung onto his sopping hoodie.

As I gradually dried off and regulated my body temperature, I realized that my right hand had been clenched in an iron grip during the entire experience. I opened it and gasped when the tiny, speckled rock was reveled, nestled in my palm. All those dots of light…

How could this be? Only angels were able to pluck these from the midnight sky, which I no longer was and therefore no longer able to do.

"What's that?" he asked when he noticed the finely polished gem. Wordlessly, I pressed it into his hand, for something inside me knew it was meant to be a gift for him.

"It's a star."

"Really?" I nodded as he inspected the marble-sized stone with awe.

"The only thing I knew how to catch in my former life."

"There's something…something I've been meaning to tell you."

The regulated beating of my heart quickened significantly into an erratic pounding in anticipation of his words.

"I'm listening." And I was, but he only nuzzled his nose against my exposed shoulder and planted a light kiss on it. My hands threaded themselves in his golden hair; he sighed in pleasure at my actions and rose up to rest his forehead against mine. We exchanged more kisses, these infused with a fiery passion, so I figured that his previous statement mad escaped his mind, until—

"I love you. I love you so much," he murmured, breathless, but radiated pure bliss.

"I love you, too," I rushed out, nearly bursting with unadulterated emotion, which my face betrayed, but before I could sealed my declaration, a sudden shock of pain tore through my body and I shot up into a sitting position on the massive, king sized bed. There was a great rustling behind me, and my newly-regained wings flexed of their own accord.

My wings.

I glanced down at the snow-white tunic that had replaced the baggy, faded attire I had donned not ten seconds ago.

"You have wings," he remarked dumbly. In another time and setting, I might've chuckled, but the severity of this did not allow any space for humor.

"What a valid observation, Sherlock." The lack of amusement in my reply prompted him to reach for me but I scrambled off the bed. Everything was clear and absolute to me now. "Goodbye, Lo."

I barely reached the banister when he snagged my upper arm and held me fast. I braced myself for his inevitable display of rage at my attempted departure, but it never came.

"No. Nonononono, where are you going? Why did you say goodbye?" His voice broke as beads of saltwater gathered at the corners of his eyes. I couldn't handle this…

"Do you—" I cleared my throat but the lump that had appeared refused to budge, "do you remember when I explained the requirement I would need to fulfill in order to return to heaven?"

"The Unknown Task."

"Exactly. And I've just been informed of what it was." I wiped my own damp cheeks in vain before proceeding. "I know what a heart is because you showed me, and in return, I taught you how to love. It was that simple all along!" I wept shamelessly because if I had continued to endure the suffering he had been guilty of inflicting upon me, our time would've been prolonged. But the reality was that no matter how things turned out, being happy was never an option.

"No, nonononono, don't leave me. Please don't leave me; you're the one true love of my life. Don't do this," he pleaded, falling to his knees before me.

"It's not my decision," I choked out, and we held each other with all the strength we possessed as our worlds crashed down around us.

"I'm not letting you go this easily." The flood of my tears splashed on his shoulder. "There has to be another way: refuse to leave. Stay. Stay here with me, please."

"Anything we attempt will only backfire horribly, trust me." A poorly stifled sob on his part.

"You're breaking my heart."

"I'm breaking my own."

"Larson."

We whipped our heads around at the sound of the third voice. The intruder was bathed in a translucent, heavenly glow, and I recognized the speaker as the Chief Guardian. He appeared legitimately sorry for the pair of us, but he had direct orders to follow. "It's time."

I nodded shakily before turning back to the distressed blond.

"I'm coming with you. You're the only thing I have left in this wretched place. Then we can be together forever," he argued. I shushed him and tried to direct my thoughts away from the idle, orange-tinted cylinders nestled in the cabinet only five feet away, where his surely were focused on.

"Listen to me," I whispered urgently. "My affairs may be complete here in certain terms, but yours are defiantly not. We will see one another again in the future, but if you dare to speed up that process, the consequences will be beyond my power and I guarantee you that we'll never be together. That isn't a threat; just a fair warning." I cupped his cheek tenderly and met his familiar, chapped lips for the last time, and knowing that, I savored it thoroughly.

"Promise me right now that you'll go one, no matter how rashly or permanently you may want to act. Promise me that, and never break it."

"I promise."

That was the final thing I heard before I was whisked up, up, up, to the utopia in the clouds.

What do you consider to be the best year of your life?

A year of my life. A mere grain of sand on a beach. This could take a while: I had been unable to recall even my own name without serious thought for the better part of the past month.

My life. Hmmm.

There were tidbits that sparked up, such as the thrill of….What was that thing called? It involved a plane—no, helicopter, and an abundance of slippery, frosty snow on the steep slopes of a mountain.

Another flash displayed the jagged, razor-like points of underwater grins, separated by vertical metal bars, and yet another involved the clashing of twin rods against a worthy, masked opponent.

This one was of thunderous applause directed at—ah. It passed.

What had I been asked?

The best year of your life.

Of course: my life. Joyous times indeed…

I remembered a hastily arranged meal underneath the willows. I remembered animated conversations that lasted entire rotations of clockwork. I remembered ebony hair the texture of silk waves and expressive sepia orbs. I remembered an angel, an honest-to-goodness angel, and I remembered an unbreakable vow.

I remembered a star.

This was the only area of my mind were every minute detail was meticulously preserved, designed to never be let go of.

I had my answer.

The magnificent golden gates eased open; my soul felt…weightless. Free. I marveled vainly at my newly restored hands: no longer spotted and crooked, they were smooth and youthful, the hands of an adolescent. My clear, ecstatic laughter resounded through the entirety of the kingdom. I had planted the seeds of patience and was prepared to reap my reward.

There was a great swirling of wispy clouds, and when they settled, I found myself in the presence of the stunning angelic beauty I had waited nearly a century to be reunited with.

"Jules."

FIN

A.N.: Constructive criticism is always appreciated! It's the only way my writing will improve.