𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐁𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 (*เกิดมาเพื่อรักเธอ*) - ✨ Chapter 3 — You Say My Name Like It's Yours

Thursday – 11:13 a.m. – Classroom 2A

36Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡM3blAMn3ne

The lecture was half-over. A professor droned about comparative literature and post-modern themes, but Ric wasn’t listening. Not really.

He was watching the back of Ren’s head.

Soft, dark hair. Headphones pushed down around his neck. His fingers tapped faint rhythms into his notebook, like his thoughts had their own quiet song playing.

Ric had sat next to him today. Not behind.

Close enough that their elbows almost touched on the shared desk.

And Ren hadn’t moved away.

That was something.

---

Ric leaned slightly sideways, his voice low enough that only Ren would hear.

“Do you write lyrics?”

Ren turned his head slowly. “What?”

Ric nodded toward his notebook. “The way you tap. It’s like you’re counting beats.”

Ren blinked at him. “I don’t write songs.”

“But you listen to them like you do.”

Pause.

Ren looked down, a faint blush threatening to rise in his cheeks. “I just… like the way certain notes feel.”

“Like how?”

“Like…” Ren hesitated. Then:

“Like something pulling on your ribs. But gently.”

Ric looked at him like he was seeing something new.

Then smiled.

“Beautiful answer, Ren.”

And that was the first time Ric ever said his name aloud.

---

12:08 p.m. – Campus Courtyard

Rain again.

Of course.

They stood under the same old tree near the library. Ric held the umbrella again, tilted slightly toward Ren. The drizzle was light, almost romantic, but neither of them said that out loud.

“Do you know my name?” Ric asked suddenly.

Ren looked at him. Quietly.

“You never say it,” Ric added with a half-laugh.

Ren blinked. “I do. In my head.”

Ric turned slightly toward him, raising a brow. “How does it sound when you say it?”

Ren bit his lower lip, caught off guard. “...Like it belongs to someone who notices things I forget to hide.”

Ric's expression softened. He looked down for a second — like the answer hit him somewhere deeper than expected.

“You always do that,” Ren mumbled.

Ric smiled. “Do what?”

“Make silence feel… different.”

---

That Evening – Ric’s Apartment

Ric sat on the floor, sketching frames for his short film storyboard. A little notebook lay beside him. One page had been torn out and refilled three times.

All of them said:

> "Ren"

But one, in the middle of the page, had a slightly different line under it.

> “Ren Thitipoom.”

The boy who looks like a rainy song and smells like cinnamon.

He didn’t know why he wrote that.

But once it was there, he couldn’t erase it.

---

Meanwhile — Ren’s Bedroom

Ren stared at the message for the sixth time.

[Ric – 8:37 p.m.]

> “Hey, I’ll be late to class tomorrow. Save me a seat? :)”

He hadn’t replied. Not yet.

But his eyes kept drifting back to that little smiley face. That soft request.

And the fact that Ric had just assumed Ren would want him to sit nearby.

Maybe he was right.

---

The Next Morning – Friday, 9:08 a.m.

Ren sat in his usual seat.

But this time, he kept a notebook open beside his own.

He wasn’t sure why. But when Ric arrived — five minutes late, slightly breathless — he saw the notebook and smiled.

“You saved me space?”

Ren nodded, eyes down.

“I brought you something,” Ric whispered, pulling out a small paper bag.

Ren blinked.

Inside was a cinnamon roll.

No sugar glaze.

Exactly like how he liked his coffee.

Ren didn’t speak.

But Ric did.

“You’re Ren.”

He said it again, softer this time.

“Ren Thitipoom.”

Ren looked up.

“And I’m Elric,” Ric added.

“Elric Suthiphong. But you can call me Ric.”

“I already do,” Ren said quietly.

“I know. But I wanted to hear it.”

---

Back in Ric’s Notebook – That Night

> “He said my name. And it sounded like something I never want to stop hearing.”

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