To Malik, the world is just a series of blurry images and vague impressions accompanied by voices sharp and clear compared to the indistinct forms they come from. He has trouble putting names to people- who can remember a name when he has no face to put it to? Instead, he calls them by what he knows they are.
"Hikari-fluffy!" He calls gleefully, spotting a head of pure white hair borne by the pure-but-not-pure soul of the Tomb Robber's other half.
(White, fine hair that stands up in a protective shield against the world, only to crumble beneath the first strong blow, like a kitten puffing up her fur to intimidate a wolf. But the fluff is also warm and comforting, a downy blanket on a cold desert night.)
The white haired boy turns and glares at him- he can feel the stare, even if he can't see it clearly.
"My name is Ryou." The boy is gritting his teeth as he speaks, and Malik just laughs. "Sure, hikari-fluffy!"
"Hey Chibi-Pharaoh, what's up?"
(Pride and cunning and regal, tucked into a tiny package beneath a layer of warm-hearted kindness. They're more alike than most people like to think- after all, even if Yami decides to kill… Yugi is the one who must unclip the leash.)
The tiny reincarnation of the Pharaoh sighs tolerantly. The older one curled up beside him is not so kind.
"Malik. How many times do Yugi and I have to tell you, you're supposed to use our actual names!" Malik giggles.
"But your reactions are so much fun, Your Royal Shortness!"
(Okay, that one is meant purely to annoy. No name can capture the man's essence better than his title. Pharaoh- a god in human form, power beyond belief, unwavering loyalty to his people.)
… The magic-singed hair and the bruises from being chased out the window are worth it. Especially to hear Marik's palm impacting his forehead as he laughs. Hard.
(He kisses it better, despite his Hikari's mock protests.)
"I don't know how you put up with him, Marik." Tea shakes her head wonderingly as she and the hikaris sit in the shade of an old oak, enjoying ice creams from the cart at the entrance to the park. The Egyptian shrugs, watching his yami playfully (well, mostly) wrestle Joey to the ground before Yami jumps into the fray. It promptly turns into a free for all dogpile, with Tristan and Bakura jumping in with gleeful yells.
"Oh, he's not that bad…"
"He never calls anyone by their proper names! It gets annoying." Ryou glanced away before muttering under his breath, "I am NOT fluffy!" Marik laughs, somewhat bitterly.
"First off- Ryou, you ARE fluffy. Second… Guys, he has a really hard time remembering names. As in, it's almost impossible for him. He doesn't see very well, he can't put a face to a name he knows. Add that to being pretty screwed up in the head… Oh, don't gape at me Yugi. I love him, but I can admit he has issues! Anyways, he can't remember names, so he just… uses what he notices about you instead." He shrugged as his friends (and wasn't that a novel concept) stared at him in shock. "It doesn't bother me."
He loves his yami, psychotic nature, bad vision, and all. Because at least he knows what Malik sees when he looks at him- it's right there in the nickname.
"HIKARI-PRETTY! Come play with us!" A strong hand seizes his and pulls him into the playful wrestling game. Marik smirks as he pulls Tristan into a headlock.
… He's always loved being complimented.