"You won't lose me, and you're never in my way." Bloody or not, he curls his arms around Jet's shoulders, fingers immediately getting lost in the blond tufts at the back of his fiance's neck. It's sweaty and a little matted, but their unwashed state is hardly on Albert's mind right now. More he has to know how to prove it, what else he can do to prove to Jet that the man shivering in his embrace is the exact person he wants there.

"You are my way." He mumbles it helplessly into the side of Jet's head, lamenting privately that all he has is words right now. But he thought he'd been showing him, for however long it's been since they woke up on that island and he knows for longer, though he can see how it wouldn't have appeared that way, not with Jet's reaction to Bina's image. How could Jet know that at Albert's core it's only been his partner's name etched there since they'd fought Black Ghost, that even when he'd been grieving over Hilda, grieving over his loss of body, loss of self, Jet had already lit that guilty little spark in him that had grown to such a roaring, steady flame? That he doesn't have words for; words would make it hollow. Language sometimes fails to express the most important things. It's times like that when he wishes he had music, but in here there's none of that either.

"How do I show you?" Albert pulls away, enough to cup Jet's chin and look him in the eyes. "How can I convince you that you're everything because you're you?"