just a little drabble, and this could probably never happen in canon, since i'm sure there are no Southern-style all-black churches in Great Britain. my apologies. XD
i got the idea when i when to church with my African-American friend, whose father was guest preacher, in a suburb near Chicago. it was the church he used to preach at before moving away 12 years ago. it was a very small, but very lively bunch. a few points were exaggerated, but it's based on my actual experience. (and yes, the jumping woman was right there in front of me.)
Mello's a little better-behaved here since he's so young. he hasn't yet had the pleasure of learning jealousy and revenge.
The small, blonde boy, swathed in black, sat before his bedroom desk with an open book before him. Even though it was nearly time for Mass, he was studying every moment that he could, right up until he was asked to leave. He was still in this position when Watari came to his door. "Mello," he called into the room, thus announcing his presence. "You're coming to Mass with me today." He smiled, and the gesture added wrinkles to his old and friendly face.
The five-year-old's golden, chin-length bobbed hair swung as he twisted himself out of his seat. "Okay," he said, as though taking an order. Despite his formality, he was overjoyed. Watari was taking him, him especially. He was special.
The elderly man assisted him into the back of the single, grey car with a boost, then he himself sat in the driver's seat on the right. Mello's heart filled with glee as the automobile began to move. It sank again when they passed by the large stone church nearby the House.
"You missed it," he pointed out airily. He leaned close to the window, but didn't touch, because it left handprints and that was naughty, and watched the huge, grey fixture shrink in the distance.
Watari smiled. He looked like some kind of wrinkly, loyal dog. He told the boy softly, "We are going to a different church today, Mello. It will not be what you are used to, but I hope that you will learn from it and maybe even have fun."
"Oh. All right." His blue eyes watched the trees float by along oceans of gravel and grass.
Watari bent over him, fixing his short fringe as his wide eyes slowly fluttered open. "We are at the church, Mello," he said. His voice was kind and low. "It is time for you to wake up." The boy methodically unbuckled himself and dropped from his seat, and then he put his tiny hand in Watari's and followed him toward the building. It was made of wood and painted white, with a small assortment of flowers planted around it and a tiny cross affixed to the top of the pitched roof. The people were dark, like only a few of the Wammy's House children, but they had kind faces like Watari and like all the other children, so although it was a bit strange, Mello was not afraid.
The women wore bright colors and big hats and red lipstick. The men wore facial hair, cropped and tightly curled. Watari brought him to a pew in the middle. He had been thrust directly into the middle of this unfamiliar environment, and that made him a bit nervous.
They stood up and sang, and that was normal for Mello. What wasn't normal was the way they sang, with power and spirit and cacophony; that the people standing and singing had no bibles and no hymn books, save for a few very old and worn ones; and that they were dancing and clapping to the rhythm of the song. The preacher shouted the sermon, about slavery and forgiveness. It was startling to hear the man's deep voice booming through the pews and shaking the floor underneath his feet. He felt it in his chest, but not so much in a touching way as a painful way. It made him want to cry, even though it didn't actually hurt him that badly. He could not help but be moved by the voice that sounded like it could move mountains. Then there was more strange dancing and singing.
"What are they doing, Watari?" Mello asked, his eyes and voice tentative, but curious.
"They are worshipping, Mello," answered the man. He was grey and wise, and suddenly all the other elders in the church were, as well. "They are praising the Lord."
Understanding and engagement alighted on Mello's features. He also began to clap, and eventually he also began to sway. This wasn't the way of worship that he was used to, Watari had been correct about that. But the Bible told him that there was a time to dance, and this was it. He felt enlightened.
A woman in front of him began to jump up and down, throwing her arms into the air above her head as the music swelled. "Thank you, Lord Jesus!" she wept. "Thank you, Jesus! Thank you!" It was frightening to the boy, who was unused to such behavior, but it was also beautiful. She was doing all in her capacity to praise her Lord. God was making her move.
When mass had ended, many of the people stayed. They continued playing music, and a few kept singing. Watari left the pew, but Mello wanted to stay and see the rest of this. A large woman leaned over and put her hand on his shoulder from behind. He felt like it could have engulfed him. "Go along with your papa, honey child," she told him gently. Mello nodded and obediently joined him, keeping his eyes on her smiling face as Watari took his hand, and they departed.
He was dancing when Matt found him. He had to be the most graceful man there, and the women knew it. There were three around the front of him, but he seemed to be ignoring them. They weren't important to him at that moment; dancing was. Matt would have to get through them to reach his childhood friend, so he danced over unobtrusively. He shouted over the music, "Mello!" It was the first time he'd opened his eyes, that Matt had seen, since leaving Wammy's House. They were the most fascinating pale blue.
"Matt," Mello sighed in wonder, inaudible under the rhythms emitted from massive speakers. He stared, but kept dancing. "You found me."
"Of course I did! I had to! I want to help."
"Thank God you made it this far."
"What are you doing here?"
Mello smiled sadly, and never stopped moving. "Praying."