Shit. Shit shit shit. This was exactly what Eobard didn't want. There was an odd feeling in his stomach that he didn't like, a tight clenching of his gut as he stared across at Hartley, his grip on his wine glass tightening before he felt his entry body give another lurch. Taking a sudden and sharp breath as he leaned forward, setting the glass down on the table so that he didn't break it or drop it through the inability to hold onto it. Closing his eyes so that he didn't have to look at Hartley's expression, Eobard frowned, turning away from him as he leaned back on the couch.
"It was fine. Everything was just fine the way it was, but I can't..."
Eobard wasn't even sure what he couldn't do. He had been more than this. He'd had plans, goals, something to achieve. But he'd completely forgotten about most of that. Despite his intention to still follow through, his motivation was wavering, and this...? What the fuck was he supposed to do this time? He had only just started to get used to the idea of a relationship and all of its various and sundry requirements. This? This was unacceptable.
"I can't do this," Eobard said, standing. He needed to move. He needed to move, or he might explode from the energy coursing through him.