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Freddie hopped down the stairs, two steps at a time.
"Brian, dear, where in god's name is Roger? I've been calling him all morning." He confronts his band member the moment they're face to face.
"Guess." Brian holds up a screwdriver, and Freddie looks absolutely baffled.
"Did you kill the man? Dear lord Brian-" He starts before quickly getting cut off.
"What? No! He's in the cupboard!"
There is a long moments silence.
"Brian, darling, I seem to have mis-"
"He's in the cupboard." Brian repeats, crossing his arms while Freddie's head catches up.
"Whyever has he been put in there?" Freddie is immediately walking past Brian, into the kitchen.
"He bribed me to enforce some inner locks. Said something about his song?"
Freddie groans and kneels in front of the cabinet. "Oh, bullocks. This again. Roger!"
"Hey Fred." Comes the quiet reply from behind the wood.
"Will you get your ass out here? Forget it! The song's not going on!" Brian stared at Freddie, confused. Freddie waiting patiently for a reply, head against the cupboard door.
"I worked just as hard on my song. It deserves at least the B-side Freddie!"
"You've gone mad!"
"Bullocks!"
Freddie stands, and swiftly turns to face Brian.
"Fine. Don't feed him any lies, he's not getting his song on the B-Side of BoRhap. Forget it. If he wants to sit in his corner and pout like a child, so be it."
"We're just going to leave him there? Fred he'll starve to death before he gives up."
Freddie makes a "Come" motion with his finger, other hand on his slightly jutted hip.
Brian leans forward, confused.
"Do you know how to unlock that thing?" Freddie whispers, letting his hand drop to his side.
"Uh, yeah, I guess. We would have to take the hinges off" He whispers back, the confused expression never leaving.
"Good." Freddie steps back, tilting his head up towards Brian. "Give it a few hours."
Two hours pass.
Eventually, John wakes up, getting informed that they have a day off. He doesn't question it, and goes off to make a cup of coffee to wake himself up for real. He swears he's going crazy, as hears a quiet,
"John."
He brushes it off, three times this happens before he bends over.
"Roger?" The door is peeked open, just slightly.
"Hey mate. Think you could make me a samich or something? I'm starved." John furrows his brows, scratching at his neck.
"Why are you in the cupboard for?" He questions, and Roger dodges it.
"Please Deacs, I'm going to die! Just make me the samish or forget this happened."
John makes the sandwhich, and sets it on a plate on the ground. He isn't completely sure the interaction wasn't a fever dream, and takes some medicine just to be safe.
"Is he still in that bloody cupboard?" Freddie stomps his foot, a near five hours after his interaction with Roger.
"Yeah. Hasn't even gone out to piss." Brian answers, and John walks up to the two.
"Are you talking about Roger? Do you know why he's in the cabinet?" Freddie taps his chin, unanswering.
"Something about his song?" Brian supplies, equally as in the dark. Freddie holds out a hand in Brian's direction.
"Darling, do get me that screw driver from earlier. We must get the boy out of there" Brian moves to do so, and John looks only more confused.
"What about his song?" John pushes, and Freddie takes the offered tool from Brian.
"He wants I'm in Love With My Car on the B-Side of BoRhap. I told him no. He threw a tissy." Freddie hastily explained while starting to unhinge the door. John crossed his arms.
"Are you going to do it now?" John asks, getting beside Freddie to help.
"Have I got a choice?"
Eventually the door is pulled off, and put the side. There lays a cramped Roger Taylor, plate in his lap and sleeping peacefully.
"Dear.. Brian, come get him. Bring him to his room. Please, Darling." Brian helps, pulling Roger out and holds him against his chest like a toddler.
"I didn't know Roger could even fit in there, let alone sleep. It's a good thing he's so tiny." John snorts, and Brian carries Roger to his room. Freddie stares at John.
"John."
"Yes Fred?"
"I'm in Love With My Car is going to be on the B-Side of Bohemian Rhapsody."
"Okay Fred."
"This may ruin us."
"Alright Fred."
"I'm glad you agree. This is a terrible idea."
"Yep."
"I'm going to the pub. You're coming with." John shrugged and let himself be dragged out the door, as was usual for a Saturday in their studio.