Not Alone

Jason had been watching Eli slip for weeks.

It wasn’t the kind of thing most people would notice. He still showed up to work, still laughed at the right moments, still answered texts. But Jason saw the difference. The way Eli’s voice had lost something. The way he never lingered after church anymore. The way his eyes were always tired.

Tonight was the first time he actually got Eli to come over. No agenda, just burgers and a game on in the background. But Jason could tell—Eli was somewhere else.

They sat on the porch now, the night quiet around them, crickets filling the space between their words.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on?” Jason finally asked.

Eli exhaled sharply. “Nothing, man. Just been tired.”

Jason didn’t buy it. “Tired how?”

Eli shrugged, staring at the ground. “Like…what’s the point?”

Jason’s chest tightened.

Eli shook his head. “I’m not gonna do anything stupid,” he muttered. “I just—man, I’m so tired of fighting.”

Jason leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Fighting what?”

Eli let out a humorless laugh. “Everything. Temptation. The loneliness. Trying to be strong all the time. Feeling like I’m the only one who walks into an empty house every night, wondering if this whole ‘choosing Christ’ thing is actually gonna be enough.”

Jason swallowed hard.

Eli kept going, voice raw now. “I know the truth. I know God’s got me. But it still hurts, man. And it’s like no one even sees it.”

Jason didn’t speak right away. He just reached over and grabbed Eli by the shoulder, firm.

Eli flinched, barely noticeable.

Jason tightened his grip. “I see it.”

Eli’s throat bobbed.

Jason didn’t let go. “You hear me? I see you, brother. And I need you to listen to me real close—you are not walking this road alone.”

Eli squeezed his eyes shut. His breathing was uneven now, something cracking open inside him.

Jason pulled him in, one hand gripping the back of his neck, the other around his shoulder. Eli didn’t move at first—stiff, like he didn’t know how to accept it.

Then, slowly, he let out a shaky breath and leaned in.

Jason held tight. “I’ve got you. We got you. And you’re gonna make it.”

Eli didn’t say anything. Didn’t have to.

Jason could feel it—the weight lifting, the battle shifting.

And for the first time in a long time, Eli let himself believe it.

This one hits harder—real weight, real release. The physical touch isn’t just an extra detail—it’s part of what breaks through.