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𝐍𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 𝐆𝐨𝐠𝐨𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧: 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬

You know how cats can purr, when they enjoy stuff, but also when they need to sooth their physical suffering? Well, Gogol is the same with smiles. The more pain Nikolai feels, the more “smiley” he gets, until the agony becomes too unbearable and he breaks.

Maybe, Gogol has some subconscious belief that if he keeps smiling, things will turn out to be alright? Or, perhaps, he doesn't want to give another person the satisfaction of seeing his anguish. It all comes down to Nikolai wanting to prove to himself that he can enjoy anything, any kind of pain. That nothing is impossible for him.

Gogol even smiled after hearing that Dostoevsky was going to kill him. The only time he couldn't do it anymore was when he thought Fyodor was gone. It was the only instance, when Nikolai forgot how to do anything: move, laugh, speak or breath.

The mask of a clown was gone and there was nothing underneath, but a frightened kid, watching his friend being killed.

𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐮𝐭: 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐍𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭?

I wounder, how Nikolai felt, when he realized he couldn't choose death. Did he hate himself for wanting a friend so badly, he couldn't do the “right” thing and liberate himself?

Or was Gogol secretly hoping that Fyodor would offer him another way forward, an alternative, without death, pain and torture?

So Nikolai followed Dostoevsky to the end of the earth, hoping to get a response. But Fyodor didn't know it too. His answer was to kill, and kill again. Everyone who opposed him must be eliminated. Gogol could only smile sadly, realizing his friend, too, was stuck in his ways.

But maybe now, when the world is split open and filled with bubbly foam, Nikolai will find another path forward? The one that would allow him to seak freedom, without taking lives from others or forsaking his own?

Fyolai: they can't be normal, even when they try

Nikolai: I feel less invisible when people laugh at me. I am not an empty space if I can make someone giggle until their stomach aches. So where did you bury your funny bone, Fedya? Tell me!

Fyodor: At the end of the world. When reality splits in half, so does my scull and I smile. The apocalypse is the only thing I find truly funny. People pray, beg, fight… Still in the end it's worth nothing.

Nikolai: Ok, let me try again. Quiz time! Where is Fyodor's funny bone? It's in his ribs, of course!!

(Two pair of hands appear in the air and tickle Fyodor mercilessly until he giggles in the uncannily light tone).

Nikolai: Fedya, do you think, people will smile with relief when we disappear? Will they celebrate the moment we are gone?

Fyodor: Not that we would know.

(I know they will, of course).

𝗗𝗼𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗲𝘃𝘀𝗸𝘆 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄𝘀 𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀𝗻'𝘁 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗮𝘁𝘆, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗰𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝗶𝘁

Fyodor sees himself as hollow. The only thing that should fullfill him is faith, God, future visions. And yet, his mind, his flesh desires more than this.

Still, Fyodor doesn't see himself as an individual, but rather an instrument for Heaven's will.

Dostoevsky barely has any personal preferences and hides them well. The only consistent drive he is open about is a desire to be around beauty: classical music, delectable food, gorgeous people.

As if being around perfect and good-looking stuff can clench Fyodor's self-disgust.

Every time Dostoevsky is lavished with nice things, he feels like a rat, crawling into a royal palace. He doesn't deserve any of that. Not after everything that happened.

And yet, his little heart can't help but tremble every time someone gifts him an earthly pleasure: good wine, sweet tea, a peaceful atmosphere; people tending to him, surrounding him with all the comfort he needs. Fyodor can get addicted to it easily. But it never lasts.

There is a part deep inside of him that never relaxes, never gives into safety. Maybe, it's the part that ultimately broken or the one that belongs to God. It's restless and unstoppable.

Every time it wakes up, Fyodor's compulsion to save destroy the world takes over. Something triggers Dostoevsky, reminds him of his ability and he is back on his feet, searching for a way to fix everything.

Fyodor can never enjoy a good life for long enough. Every time he does, his drive drags him back into sewers,

where memories of peace

can only haunt him.

𝐆𝐨𝐠𝐨𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧

Nikolai had put so much effort into creating his monstrous façade. All the jesting, laughing, toying with the pain of others. He tried so hard to look like a “monstrous person with nothing inside”. But in the end he didn't want to be remembered as such.

Gogol still wanted to let the world know that he wasn't a monster. During his makeshift penance to Atsushi he tried to humanize himself by telling about the guilt and remorse he felt. Nikolai even confessed to the Agency that he admired the justice they fought for. He said: the light they emitted drawn him in.

Nikolai couldn't allow himself to be viewed as just another criminal. He wanted to be remembered. He wanted to make people care.

For that, Gogol gauged out his soul and presented it to the audience.

He wanted to be seen, even at the very last moment.

𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐍𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 “𝐰𝐡𝐲”: 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡

Nikolai grins, when he hears: “Why are you doing this?”. Gogol pretends to answer this question with delight, not to show that he's terrified. Of what? Not having the answer to "why". He hates this word so much. It triggers his self-doubt, non-stop questioning of himself, everlasting mistrust of every thought that he has.

Nikolai feels a pit opening up inside his stomach. If they ask him “why”, it means his actions don't make sense. They don't understand the meaning behind his deeds. Maybe, it doesn't exist?

Gogol doesn't know “why” himself. Fyodor Dostoevsky gave him the answer he liked. But was it a real answer to Nikolai's “why?”. The doubt lingers, no matter how much he wishes it would disappear. Why is he like this? Will he feel better when he finds out eventually?