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Hot Lap
- In ice hockey
Hot-lapping may also refer to a superstitious routine that ice hockey players, and sometimes other team personnel, perform hours before a game for good luck, in which one skates around the perimeter of the rink alone.- In motor racing
A 'hot lap', also called a 'flying lap' or a 'timed lap', is a complete lap around a racetrack that takes place in free practice or qualification, the time of which is recorded. In general, when hot lapping, the goal is to achieve the fastest possible time around the circuit.- Outside of sports
Hot lapping may also refer to the act of drawing attention to one self at the expense of another person's life
They didn't run in the same circles.
Monoma was confident, loud and bold — as was to be expected of a theater Major. It was his star quality, he would boast. All would turn to their attention to the blonde, regardless of whether there was a spotlight to guide their eyes or not. Monoma would bathe every glance that came his way and relish the compliments of his fans after every performance. He loved being the centre of attention. It was his time to shine.
Meanwhile, Shinso avoided the masses. As much as he could he moved in the shadows and barley spoke, almost fading to the background unnoticed. Monoma never bothered with the broody upperclassman. Heck, he did not even know his major, let alone his name, nor did he really bother with the guy. Not until his friend dragged him out one night. This had never been the plan. This was entirely their fault and was because of them. It was never his plan to watch their university team play a prelim game. Not in a million years would you have ever seen him at such an event. Typically, Monoma did not watch sports. Why would he? To barbaric, violent and intended for the proletarian plebeian masses, it did not meet his criteria of a sophisticated entertainment —
A piercing blow of the whilst shot through the cold air, sounding over Monomas chattering teeth and roaring crowd. "Now what?", he muttered. Shrinking into his jumper some more — a the futile search for warmth — he elbowed the body sat next to him. "The hell is happening?"
"That was a foul." Tetsutestu said, grinning from ear to ear, impervious to the sharp jab and thoroughly enjoying the spectacle.
Monoma scoffed. "That was a foul?! Just a second someone smashed another guys face into the window—"
"It's not called a window—"
"Whatever! I don't—" Monoma's words, drowned out by a loud buzz and the crowd going wild. They never reached Tetsutetsu. Thankfully. Jaw slack, blue eyes followed the newest addition to the field. So far the game had constituted of a bunch of behemoths of guys zipping across the ice and smashing one another into the side railings, staining the ice red. Each time, he could not help but flinch and whine at the sounds ricocheting along the barrier dividing the athletes from the spectators. Large and clunky they seemed larger than life, even compared to his own ego on stage. The newest skater was tiny.
Within moments of stepping onto the ice, getting possession of the puck in a move that looked like happenstance than actual skill, one of the larger defenders barrelled into him, smashing him into the wall. "That guy is gonna get killed!" Monoma yelped. He smacked his friends arm and pointed at the number 87.
Tetsutetsu raised a brow and smirked. "Just watch."
They didn't run in the same circles.
Of course Shinso knew of Monoma. How could he not? University heartthrob, leading romantic lead and star of the theater kids, he was shining beacon that Shinso could not bear to look at for any amount of time. Bright and radiant he practically glowed, not to mention he was loud. Boisterous and flamboyant, he strutted down the halls at all times of day as if he were king parading for the common folk and gracing them with his presence. Shinso never thought much of him — at least nothing good. He knew the rumours. Everyone did.
The theatre kids were just one big poly orgy. Everyone fucked with everyone and whenever they were involved, drama followed. Arrogant, mean snarky and snippy were more often than not words the flew around them, especially Monoma. A bully to the underclassmen if they were not up to his high standards.
Truthfully, Shinso never would have so much as bothered talking to Monoma, had he not witnessed him two nights prior on stage. It had been a small sample show, a mix of different performances from all the students enrolled. The hockey team had decided to watch, whether as a drinking game, dare or because someone was dating someone on the course was not really clear, but Shinso tagged along all the same.
Over all it had been entertaining enough. A balanced mix of action and fun ranging from comedy skits, show tunes sung, dance numbers and even a sword fight on stage had fluttered across the open air stage in the dead of night. The mood had been relaxed and fun until the star stepped onto the podium. All paled in light of Monoma.
Shinso had almost expected a roaring speech — something arrogant, grand or even epic. Something worthy of the panty dropping male lead. A bang! So when the first sparkling tear rolled down Monoma's cheek, a stuttered gasp caught in his throat, the audience was spellbound. Chilled to his core, Shinso watched awestruck and for the first time ever, he saw there was more. More than just some arrogant jerk commanding everyone's adoration. Never much one for theatre, he did not know the play. With little time outside of training and course work he normally never bothered and tried to get as much sleep as he could, but that night, he went down the rabbit hole. Words of the monologue freshly burnt to his mind, endlessly playing on repeat, he read up everything he could about the two person play and wept. A simple stage play really, it was so much more than he had anticipated. Longing, disappointment, regret — Monoma had managed to squeeze that all in a short scene. He had portrayed something so visceral, it haunted Shinso ever since.
"Hello Billie.", he rasped stepping into the conservatory.
Monoma looked away from the window, pale face lit unflatteringly by the garden lights and sneered. "Billie?"
Inexplicably, the aspiring actor looked more ethereal than he did on stage draped in sparkly gowns with a sword in his hand, or a lady hanging off his arm. He looked gorgeous in a manner that Sinso had not anticipated. Scrambling for words, his eyes bounced about the space. "Ah— oh… uhm, you know? From the talent show thing the other night? Y-you did a scene from Lovechild. I— uh… I-I thought it was— I mean—"
Monoma's mouth twisted. "That was not a talent show." He grumped and sat up.
"No— I mean i know. I just—" Shinso nervously scratched his nape, scrunching his face unsure what to say. This was stupid. They didn't run in the same circles, what was even the point in trying to talk. They had never exchanged words, why start now? Didn't matter that his performance had changed his whole world view of him. The raw emotion in the subtle moves speaking more volumes than his voice could had him sat at the edge of his seat. The fragile gasps, the tears stirred something deep within him, creating an unknown yearning his own. he wanted to reach out — wipe them away.
Shinso shrugged. "Never mind— sorry. I will leave you alone." In a huff, Shinso turned on his heel to leave.
"NO! W-wait— " Turning to look back, Monoma jumped up from his seat, both hands clutching the crystal flute close to his chest. Where on earth he had found that was a mystery, but it was in character. In a sea of basic red plastic cups and cheap beer, of course he of all people would think it below him and opt for outrageous.
"I— uh… tha— Congrats on winning! Or… whatever." he muttered and shuffled on the spot.
"Oh!" Caught of guard, Shinso hesitated, retracting his hand from reaching for the door. "Uh… You watched me? The game! The game I mean, NOT me — of course not me, that would be silly. I mean like the whole team. Yeah, thanks— we were okay i guess?"
"Yeah — we— I— I watched." Monoma said with a grin and put down his glass on the nearest side table to step closer. He cleared his throat and circled Shinso, eyes visibly wandering up and down his aching body. "You know,", he rasped, hands clasped behind his back and a cheeky wink. "I was quite surprised to hear you were playing. I mean, who would have thought that the sleepy little wall flower could skate like that— You are typically so drab and boring! Nothing special really—"
There it was, the shitty attitude that had put him off in the first place, reminding him why he had never actually bothered to get to know him in the first place. Shinso lifted a warning finger. "Imma stop you right there. If you're gonna be a dick I am leaving— sorry I called your guys thing a talent show or whatever. " Turning to leave, a cold hand wrapped around his wrist halting him from his retreat.
"You misunderstand—" Monoma whispered and crowded him. Closer and closer he stepped until Shinso's back met with something solid. Pinned between the door and the blond, he blinked at the unexpected turn of events dumbly. Wide blue eyes pierced him as the theatre major rambled on, a monologue of all things.
"You were stupendous! I have admittedly never watch the sports because frankly anything that is not choreographed and accompanied by music it is not worth my time, but by Shakespeare— you truly moved as though Terpsichore herself had chosen you! Such grace— such elegance! Never would I have thought such a thing possible— Surely you understand? All Jocks are brain-damaged buffoons after all. And you— You were so tiny! Compared to all those other freakish abominations on the ice you were goddamn grace incarnate dodging everyone so fast I could barely take my eyes off of you. Truly, a sight to behold! Never have I ever seen anything quite like it! I never understood the whole 'float like a butterfly and sting like a bee' fanfare until I saw you play!"
"Uh—"
"YOU!", Monoma snapped, cupping Shinso's cheeks with staggering force of a slap. "You— You will not steal the limelight from me again!"
"Uh— What?"
"I simply cannot be outshone— it just won't do, but that's easy enough to fix. I will make you mine!"
"How does that make any sense?!"
"I will have you on your knees, begging for my attention!"
"UHM—"
A tug was all it took.
On the ice no one could touch Shinso. However, off the ice, in the dark of some frat houses conservatory as the rain pelted the glass ceiling, one wiry theatre kid managed what 10 player had not in two periods: make him fall. Flat on his back, Shinso's eyes widened. The softest of sensation pressed against his lips, featherlight, beating up an unprecedented storm tingling throughout his body in a flash. A hot lap licked over his chapped lips short circuiting his brain. His heart thundered faster than he could skate the lengths of the rink.
Demanding, Monomas lips moved against his as though committing each muscle twitch to memory. Pulling back, the blonde sat up breathlessly, firmly planted on his lower stomach and dangerously close to something stirring in his pants Shinso did not want to admit was intrigued. Grinning manically, Monoma shoved the hair from his forehead and licked his lips with a purr. The sound reverberated thought Shinso body and had his toes involuntarily curl in anticipation. A pathetic whine escaped in his throat despite himself.
"You are mine, Hitoshi."