A/N: A little drabble I'd forgotton I had. I suppose it could be looked at as a Mello tribute, seeing as what today is and a...

Ah, Mihael, Mihael. Poor little angel-boy, lost his wings before he grew them, spent a lifetime clinging to faith he never really had. Pretty boy, broken boy, living with the empty hope that he might become a man.

Mihael, who uttered a hundred-thousand prayers, filled with empty words drilled into his head long before he could understand their meaning. By the time he was old enough to know them, he'd grown too smart to grasp the words he uttered. Chanting empty charms to a God he didn't think existed, the words like drops of blood from a sacrificial lamb rolling off his lips. Repeating them, night after night until all meaning had been beaten out of them from the repeated times they were thrown into the world, till not even the most earnest heartfelt prayer could save him.

Poor little angel-boy, looking for a God he didn't believe in. I wonder, what would've happened if he had?

A/N: Well, there it is. Short, and hopefully good. Tell me what you think in a review?