A man who yearns, is a man who earns
“Eli” Norton breathed, his voice a fractured thing, caught between a whisper and a sob. “Please…”
Eli stood above him, veiled in something more than light, something more than silence. He was radiant, untouchable, a figure carved from the heavens themselves. Behind the shimmering veil, his expression was hidden, yet the stillness of him spoke volumes, a storm held captive in alabaster grace.
“Do you even hear yourself?” Eli’s words fell like cold rain, soft but unyielding. “You grovel as if the earth could absolve you. As if I could.”
Norton’s fingers tightened around the fabric, his head bowing low. He was shaking now, his voice raw with a desperation that clawed its way to the surface. “I have nothing else,” he said, barely audible, his words splintering under the weight of them. “No one else. Only you”
His hands, trembling with need, rose from the hem of Eli’s robes, finding the edge of Eli’s waist. The touch was light, hesitant at first—fingers brushing the fabric like the gentlest of caresses. But as if the very act of touching Eli could pull him back from the edge, Norton’s grip tightened. His hands were desperate now, clutching at the robes like they were the only thing keeping him tethered to a reality that was slipping through his fingers. There was a reverence in the touch, as though the fabric beneath his hands was sacred, a lifeline, a final connection to something worth living for
Eli’s voice rang out, sharp as a whip, a divine decree that crushed Norton’s every hope. “Not after what you’ve done. Not after who you’ve chosen to be.” Norton’s breath hitched. He could hear the truth in those words—knew they were undeniable. But his yearning burned hotter, deeper.
“Then tell me,” he choked, his voice breaking, “tell me what I can do to earn it. What can I do to be worthy of you?”
Eli’s gaze flickered, the light around him quivering like the end of a storm. The very air felt thick, as though time itself was holding its breath. “You think yearning is enough? You think a man who only wants, who only asks, can be redeemed? You think a prayer of desperate need will fill the void you’ve made?” Norton’s hands clenched tighter around the fabric, his fingers numb with the strain.
“Tell me what to do,” he begged. “I will do anything. I will change. For you. Only for you.” His body shook with the effort, his chest heaving as if his very soul was burning inside him.
Eli’s silence seemed to stretch out, a heavy, unspoken verdict. For a fleeting moment, the light around him dimmed, and Norton thought he saw something shift—something faintly human in Eli’s gaze. But it was gone before Norton could reach for it.
“You must earn your redemption,” Eli said at last, the words more fragile than steel. “It is not given. It is not a gift that can be handed to you in your grief.” He paused, the weight of his words hanging in the air between them. “You must give of yourself- Not in prayer, not in begging—but in action”
Norton’s heart pounded in his chest, the truth of Eli’s words a hammer to his soul. “How?” he whispered, feeling the weight of the challenge press down on him. “How can I earn your forgiveness? Your presence?”
Eli’s gaze held him, distant and knowing. “By proving your worth, through sacrifice, through change. A man who yearns—who truly yearns—is a man who earns. The road you have walked has been one of destruction, of choice, of selfishness. To earn, you must give more than you’ve ever been willing to give before.”
And with that, Eli turned. The light around him unfurled like the petals of a celestial flower, pulling him farther and farther away.
(Idk what else to write, I’m burned out af. I didn’t even plan on writing this, oh well anyways hope you like it lol☆)
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