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At least it isn’t cold.
His face is burning, and there’s an uncomfortable wind licking at his leg hair, but at least it isn’t cold.
Brian was making an example out of him, he knew that, and he supposes it’s technically still up in the air whether or not Brian’ll let him stay in Korn- a name Jonathan came up with, by the way- and well… he isn’t in the position to argue. It's either this, or try to patch things back up with the guys in Sexart, say he didn’t like Korn anyway, yadda yadda. And if he really thinks about it, he’s still promoting the band, and that’s probably what Brian wanted from him in the end.
‘cut it with the glam crap. we aren’t playing dress up’
At least it was an outfit he liked. A thrifted pair of stockings under one of his sister’s mini skirts, heeled boots that he finally got the hang of walking in, and a bikini top covered up only by a short fur shawl. Draggier than he would usually go, and Brian made him put his makeup on in front of the entire band before he went out, hair tied up to show off his hoop earrings. He thought it was nice, but he knew Brian hated it, and Reggie was always a bit weirded out by it, and James, who’s typically not the one to get involved, started laughing behind his back. Not that he isn’t used to people laughing.
‘don’t pull this shit again’
Passing out fliers was the hard part. Tanned fraternity type guys lowering their visors when presented with a piece of paper that had the details of Korn's show written out would smack it right from Jonathan's hands. Girls would giggle, mothers would walk faster with their kids. The sun wasn’t totally down yet, and with it being a weekend, Huntington was as busy as it could possibly be. There wasn’t any hiding, no confusing Jonathan for a woman as Brian made sure he didn’t shave, and those who could tell made a habit of spitting on Jonathan’s shoes, calling him a fag, gasping in horror, disgust, bewilderment. Catcalls and wolf whistles, pinches at his ass when he’d bend over to pick up a stray paper.
‘or else you’re out of the band’
The walk was long, especially in heels, and Jonathan could feel the blisters forming. He felt like he put on too much concealer, his top was too tight, his lip gloss too sticky. The moment he got back to the studio, he’d take it all off and never touch it again. Not the stockings, not the makeup, not the hoops. Brian made his point, they all did. Jonathan won’t ever put a brush to his eyes if it means staying with them.