One week or so had passed since the Beware of Dog event, and Undertaker still found himself walking in circles around thoughts he would rather forget about completely. There was talk of a rematch due to Bearer's insistence, much to his dismay, but thankfully it was scheduled to a way later date. Honestly, at that point, he didn't care about the Intercontinental title at all. All he cared about was distancing himself from anything that could fuel that knot at the bottom of his stomach even more.

Hoping to achieve that, he put all his body and soul on his upcoming matches. To choke and piledrive other wrestlers gave him a much needed stress relief, cleaned up his head and got him to focus on something else entirely.

But, as soon as his adrenaline began to wear off and he started to lose focus, suddenly all his attention was back on Goldust and his brash attitude. And Undertaker honestly wanted to tear his own head off every time it happened.

It was baffling really. Ever since he was turned undead, he just assumed most of his feelings were washed away along with his mortality, with the only emotions left being anger and resentment. Apparently he was wrong, but he would rather die again then admit such a thing.

The only problem was that he didn't think he could ever die.

And the worst part was that Goldust was most likely reveling on his misery. Thinking he was superior just because he got to his head. Or maybe he wasn't, because Undertaker wasn't letting anything out. In fact nothing about his behaviour would tell anyone – aside from Bearer – that something was bothering him. Thankfully he was very good at covering up his feelings under a layer of indifference, which was something he already did way before he stepped on a ring for the first time.

Although, when Undertaker considered talking to Goldust directly about what was happening, he concluded things were a lot more askew inside his head than he first imagined. He didn't go through with it though, which was a relief.

Still, his gaze seemed to drift to Goldust whenever their paths crossed, and he just knew the other man yook notice it every time, not to mention how that gave away he was not completely unperturbed by Goldust's advances. And that was awkward and made the knot on his stomach grow stronger.

Indeed, Goldust noticed those darting eyes, but chose not to stare back. Mostly because he was sure that would intimidate and discourage Undertaker. He was starting to realize this was going to be a waiting game, and as awful as he was at those, he could do it. Or at least he believed he could, even without being the most patient person in the world. Like it or not, his upbringing didn't do him much good in that regard, considering everything he wanted was always handed to him by his parents, and specially his mother, on a silver platter as soon as he asked for them. He rarely had to wait for anything.

And there he was making an effort to wait for Undertaker to take the next step, which, based on his behaviour, could take a good while. A while Goldust wasn't even slightly prepared for or used to. A while that got him to have second thoughts about this entire thing, but never really quit.

After all, how was one supposed to give up on someone so fascinating?

A few more days passed, and Goldust's patience started to wear very, very thin. Was Undertaker really going to keep that act up forever? Keep on just briefly glancing at him from a distance and pretend he wasn't even a little interested? That was driving Goldust absolutely crazy, and definitely not in the good way. And he certainly wasn't going to let that go on until God knows when. If Undertaker wasn't going to be the bigger person and come talk to him, then he was.

That is, if he was lucky enough to catch the deadman on his own, without his manager around. Did Bearer ever let Undertaker alone? Goldust doubted it. He was always looming around as if Undertaker was some kind of kid who needed supervision every waking hour. What a nuisance...

Goldust wanted to try his luck though, which resulted on him standing in front of Undertaker's locker room one day, taking a few deep breaths. He knew he was being hasty, but honestly, if he didn't do anything he had a feeling he was going to explode any minute now.

He knocked on the door a couple times, not really expecting an answer, if Undertaker was the only one inside. After all, he doubted the other would open the door to anyone, and Paul wouldn't bother knocking in the first place.

He saw the knob turning though, and for a brief moment he held his breath. God, if he had to hear Bearer's creepy voice again...

And he immediately released his breath when Undertaker's figure appeared in front of him. Luck was on his side it seemed.

Undertaker was actually surprised to see Goldust standing there, but was able to keep a neutral face. He didn't say anything though. Just looked at the other man, waiting to see what he had to say.

"Well, I can see you are not the type who greets guests." Goldust said, arms crossing in front of his chest. "Anyway, so, that's how it's going to be, hm?"

Undertaker blinked a few times, not exactly sure what Goldust was going on about.

"Ugh... Are we just going to keep doing this? You making eyes at me while I pretend I'm not seeing it?" Goldust huffed, arms uncrossing as he rolled his eyes. "I wasn't expecting to go through middle-school level flirting with this."

There was a moment of silence between them, as Undertaker processed what was just said to him. First, the fact that what he feared actually happened: Goldust did realize he was glancing at him on occasion. Second... flirting? How did he even jump to such a conclusion? Since when simply looking at someone could be considered flirting?

Undertaker remained silent, which only contributed to Goldust's sheer frustration.

"Are you just going to stand there and stare at me, or are you going to say something?" Goldust uncrossed his arms, pulling on strands of his wig. Why wouldn't he just speak up? "I know I'm a sight to behold but I would appreciate it if you didn't make it look like I'm talking to a wall."

While Goldust was talking and clearly fuming, Undertaker just stood there, expression unchanged from when he first opened the door, but his eyes were paying very close attention to Goldust's face and gestures. He was just so expressive all around. And he made it look so easy to just speak up. How did he do that? And why all that was so captivating?

It was just when Goldust made a very distressed noise that Undertaker stopped getting distracted by those thoughts.

"I'm just tired of this game of cat and mouse. Can't you just tell me what you are thinking? Drop me a little hint? Anything?" Goldust was all flustered by then, fists clenched.

And then, just like that, Undertaker closed the door right on his face, and for almost an entire minute, Goldust just stood there, eyes wide and with bated breath, lips parted as if he was about to say something, but nothing was coming out.

When Goldust snapped out of it, he chewed on his bottom lip to stop himself from straight up shouting, and had to hold back the urge to slam his fists at the door in front of him, demanding Undertaker to open it up again. How... how dare he do that to him? Just shoot him down like that as if he was nothing?

He stared at the door with squinted eyes. That most certainly had hurt his ego more than anything anyone has ever done to him, and... if he wasn't so angry he would congratulate Undertaker on such a feat.

Was that how Undertaker wanted to play? Very well, then they were going to play by his stupid rules.

Goldust let out a last huff of air before walking away, feet stomping on the floor with each step. For anyone watching from outside, he looked just like a spoiled child who was denied candy.

While Goldust was throwing his small tantrum outside, Undertaker was resting against the door, staring at the small lamp on the room's ceiling.

Flirting... Was that what Goldust expected from him, after all those words and actions? A display of affection? That... surely wasn't what Undertaker thought. Not even close. He just supposed Goldust messed with him in an attempt to throw him off, make his life easier once they finally squared off in the ring. Get him distracted and unfocused.

Granted, his plan worked well. Maybe too well. But... to develop actual feelings? Why would Undertaker ever think of that as a possibility? And most importantly, why Goldust thought that would be the outcome of his actions?

Undertaker's head was spinning, trying to piece together all that new information, and now he was alone he allowed his eyes to widen a bit, and his nostrils to flare some as he found himself breathing a little more heavily. He felt weird, like he was about to get sick or something. He knew he couldn't get sick though... Or could he? He wasn't sure of anything at the moment.

He dreaded to think that foreign feeling bubbling at the bottom of his gut was anything even close to what Goldust was insinuating. He didn't want nor needed the burden of emotions into his life.

Then his brain immediately swung back to how he was just staring at and studying Goldust just a few minutes prior while he was speaking.

That was when he realized he was doomed. Didn't admit it, but acknowledged it.