”Who knows? Maybe you’ll find a cute Swiss boy up in the mountains who will break his walls around around you.”

You always hated when Gilbert was right.

In a trip to the Alps, Basch Zwingli was resting at a flower field in the Alps. He has a serious, stoic expression, but looked so peaceful picking flowers by himself, humming softly. He wore a green jacket over a white shirt, and brown cargo shorts, the wind brushing his hair aside and getting in his face.

Just like Gilbert said.