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Harry isn't completely sure when he first fell in love with Simon.

It might've been during their first meeting, when both of them were starting college, and Simon ended every sentence with a cute laugh, and Harry was still figuring himself out.

It might've been the first time he and Simon had gone on a bike ride together, getting fish and chips in a random park, and staying there until the sun dipped below the horizon.

It might've been when Simon had snuck Harry out of his house at midnight and dragged him to his back garden, where they sat on the damp grass and silently stared up at the stars.

It might've been their last night of their college days, where both of them ditched their friends and went to the ice cream parlour down the road, and Simon had gotten them both chocolate because he knew just how much Harry loved it.

Honestly, Harry doesn't think it even matters at this point, because he's already too far gone to care about the small details. Sure, his brain may swirl with those memories at 3am when he should be asleep due to an exam the next day, but he doesn't waste the time to figure out what specific event caused it.

He's in university now, he's growing up. He doesn't have time for thinking about the small things ... even if it's all his brain seems to want to do.

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