Green emeralds stare out the window of the bus, and even though the face they belong to flicks away, covered by loose blond hair, I can still make out his faint smile.

At least, that's what I try to convince myself.

I hop on the bus. Normally I would take the seat right next to him, but it's occupied. With a fluid motion, he stands and grabs a hanging strap, gesturing with his other hand for me to sit. I nod, and the gruff look softens.

We ride in silence. All around us is the loose chatter of people, all white collar workers dressed in clean black suits. We stand out; he's dressed in a long green military-style jacket with white buckles and crosses (which after painstaking research, I found that it comes from Switzerland-which has lead me to give him a nickname: Switzy), loose brown pants, high boots, and a white beret, while I'm in a form-fitting purple knit top with a short black jean skirt. We're the youngest people on the bus and probably the most inexperienced. But we ride with confidence, what do we have to be ashamed of?

It's funny, I've known this man for a year, but we've never spoke. I don't even know his name. A year ago I started my new job at the library, but I had to sell my car to get me through when I wasn't employed. So I started to ride the bus that very day. And I sat next to the guy I'm beside now. At the time I was so terrified that I didn't say anything to him. Over time, I got used to Switzy's gruff demeanor; he wasn't, and still isn't, mean, he just keeps to himself. But we still never spoke. Sometimes I convinced myself that today would be the day; today I would talk to him. I always chickened out for various reasons; he put in ear buds, I had to catch up on my reading, or I simply didn't want to change what we already had, which really wasn't anything.

We both get off several stops later and head to our habitual coffee shop. It's a mom and pop shop, not a chain store, called Wake Up Call. We get in line, him right behind me. Soon it's our turn. I'm about to order when the lady just points over to the register. I walk over, with Switzy in tow. Two steaming paper mugs of coco greet us. I smile; being a regular has its advantages. Fumbling for my purse, I stop when I feel a hand on my shoulder. He has his other arm outstretched with a credit card.

"I'll pay for both of them." I can't help but feel a pang of jealousy; he said it to the cashier and not to me. But I'm also thankful and can feel a small spark of hope; it's the first time he has ever paid for my drink. And the sound of his voice; it reminds me of the German I took in high school, one of my favorite classes.

We go back to the bus stop, sipping our cups, and get back on when it finally comes. This one is even more crowded than the last; we both have to stand. Finally we reach his stop, the bank. Usually I keep going for a few more stops until I reach the library, but today is the Monday after pay day. I get to go with him into the bank. I follow him through the crisp revolving doors. He goes into a side door with the smallest of backward glances that makes me want to dance right in the middle of this place, but instead I head up to the nearest teller.

"Good Morning!" She's way too cheerful for 7:30 on a Monday morning, but she works at a bank. I guess she has to be. I can't help but wonder if she knows Switzy. Correction, how well she knows Switzy.

"Hi. I need to make a deposit."

"Sure." She has me do a couple things. All in all, it takes longer than usual, and now I'm anxiously watching the clock. I really don't want to be late; I've already made enough mistakes as a newbie. Finally she looks up at me.

"Alright then, we are done."

"Thank you," I say, trying to keep the impatience out of my voice. I rush to the doors, but at the same time there is a man coming in; dressed in black clothes and when I look into his face I see a mask. Our eyes meet and quickly before I know what's happening, he drags me back into the bank, an arm tight around my waist, a gun pressed coldly and stiffly to my head.

"Alright, give me all your money or she dies." Everyone looks up in fear at the gunman, at me. The teller quickly begins to get money while others stick their hands in the air. Suddenly I hear a quiet voice; one I recognize and love so much.

"Let go of her now, or you will die." I know without looking it's Switzy. His voice has dropped and octave I my eyes widen in surprise as I hear a bullet click into place on the gun. I don't know how he got behind the guy without him knowing, maybe it's his catlike grace, or the gunman didn't see him come out of the side door. However he did it, I'm glad.

"You know you don't have it in you." I can feel the would-be robber's grip on me loosen and hear a tremor in his voice. Switzy leans in even more dangerously.

"Try me." The robber's grip has loosened even more as he thinks of the threat given to him. It's just enough that I start to use me elbow to hit him in the stomach. He groans and doubles over, releasing me completely. I fall to the floor, and quickly Switzy tackles the man to the ground, struggling to subdue him. Within minutes the police come in and take over. A couple of the officers interview me. I'm shaking hard that I'm given a jacket and told to sit in the lounge with my coco. Pretty soon Switzy comes over and sits next to me on the couch. He's changed out from his traditional look to a security guard uniform. I want to speak so badly, but he beats me to the punch.

"Are you alright?" The concern in my voice startles me, whenever I hear him speak (which is just to order coco) he sounds so distant.

"Yeah." Unfortunately my voice tremors and he brushes back my dull red hair, gazing into my eyes. It's calming, but also unexpected.

"I guess this is pretty bad because we've never talked, but I've always wanted to do this." He leans into my chapped lips and kisses me. Shocked, I can't process what happens and I barely respond at first. But then I get lost in the kiss and start to kiss him back. Our lips work against each other, pouring out the untold secrets we've had between us on our silent rides. When we break apart our faces are flushed, and he won't meet my gaze.

"Hey." He still won't look up. "I guess this is pretty bad, but what's your name?" He finally lifts his head and the corners of his mouth tilt up.

"Vash. Vash Zwingli." I smile.

"I'm Naomi Harper. Nice to meet you Vash."

A/N: I LUV SWITZERLAND! TAKE THAT!