If you told me to, I would make you breakfast in the mornings. I would cook up a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon, and kiss your salty lips good morning as you ate. I would run my fingers through your hair, and count the moles on your soft cheeks. I would hug you, and never let you go. If you told me to, I would read you stories, and we could listen to audiobooks together, and watch marathons of your favourite movies. I would rest my head on your lap as we lied on the couch, and would fall asleep in your arms. We could both drift off and wake up together a few hours later. If you want, we could make lunch together. I could stir the pot, and you could wrap your arms around me, holding me tight against your body that's warmer than the stove we would be standing overtop of. We would feed each other, arms entwined, just like they do with wedding cakes, and then we would start our very own food fight. If you told me to, I'd play video games with you for hours on end; you would have to teach me, and I can't promise I'd be any good, but I give you my word that I'd try my best. If the sun comes out, we could go lay in the grass and soak up the sun. If it meant that much to you, we could dance in the moonlight, and sing under the stars. We could play games with your family, and I would let your siblings win. We could talk to your parents until there is nothing left to say. If you told me too, I would stay over for the night. We could lie together in the darkness, and whisper sweet nothings till we drift off into dreams. I could be a sweetheart with your family, and a crazed mind when I'm with you. I could be anything you wanted if you only told me to.