No self-respecting person would ever let themselves wallow in a pit of misery the way T.J. did, but he wasn't exactly in a position to respect himself. In fact, he felt that every ounce of agony he suffered was deserved because he had let Belinda get away. And while, yes, he did fall for every girl he ever dated, there was no one he fell for quite as hard as the other elemental. They were truly kindred spirits in their desire to help Earth (though Belinda was a little more gung-ho in that department) and other people. How on earth was he supposed to go through the rest of his days without her in his arms? And how, just how was he supposed to maintain a happy facade when he had promised they could still be friends afterwards? The promise was made because he couldn't just cut her out of his life completely, but he had no idea the sort of torture he had set himself up for. Because nothing could be worse than what he was feeling right now.
Each little gesture and touch that came from his best friend helped, despite the fact that he was sure that he would never be able to mend this feeling of his insides being ripped out (the idea that they were ripped out by Belinda was buried deep beneath the pain). If anyone could help T.J. pick up the shattered pieces of himself, it was his best friend. Every break up he had endured paled in comparison to this one, but Toby had always been there to help get T.J. off of the floor and back into the swing of life. Perhaps if the elemental had been wiser, he might have guarded himself a little more for every impending break up, but he had always thrown himself fully into everything he did. Which was why he adored Toby and everything about him, even his cynicism where love was concerned. He lay there on the bed, a pitiful excuse of the man he usually was, and let Toby mop up the spit, cake, and tears and he could only offer a sniffle in thanks.
To show that he was willing to work with Toby (although staying in bed and crying himself into a coma seemed like the best possible option at the moment), he moved with his friend and let his weight fall onto his feet rather than onto his friend. Having Toby holding him up certainly helped; T.J. was sure that if his friend were suddenly to let go, he would just collapse into a puddle of misery on the floor. Once at the table, T.J. flumped into the chair and held his head between his hands as silent tears trickled down his cheeks, catching in the scruff of his growing beard. Toby's question was answered with another sniffle and a mournful mumble catching on his lips. The word had been "whichever," but anyone with a grasp on English wouldn't have caught it.