Durant does not cease his steady advance and Rush continues to move back at a pace even with his, never removing his gaze from the other man, breath coming up in short, uneven stutters, until his ankle strikes the opposite wall.

Fuck.

Rush's chin jolts, startled at the unexpected obstruction of movement, leaving him entirely unprepared when Durant charges him with a speed and reflex that simply cannot be natural, seizing him by the front of his shirt and effectively pinning him to the wall. His breath catches, and in his fragmenting, spiraling panic his thumb strikes the phone's screen in an uncontrolled spasmodic movement an instant before it slips away from nerveless, quivering fingers.

He twists against the wall, but Durant's grip is ironclad, and Rush cannot get away. He is trapped here. He is trapped. He is trapped and Durant is clearly the far more physically powerful of the two of them, and he cannot possibly escape. Immediately a constricting, piercing terror begins to strangle his airways as he grasps the wrist clutching at his shirt in a vain attempt to wrest it away, terrified eyes locking with Durant's horrifyingly unreadable ones.