Combat (2006) - full transcript

He is fourteen years old.

He is going back home.

Two guys on a motorcycle
approach him from the side.

He looks at them,
They are handsome.

They seem dangerous.
He can feel it.

The boys stop, get off the motorcycle
and hit him with their helmets.

For no reason.

They disappear immediately.

The boy's face is covered in blood.
His teeth are broken. He is crying.

He gets home.
His mother looks at him and says,

"I hope you fought back"



I no longer remember
when I first met Kostia.

He is Vanya's little brother.

For me, he has always been Vanya's little brother.

I never looked at Kostia as
a boy to be held in my arms, until that summer.

It was in August, on the terrace
of a cafe in the center of the city.

It was a sunny day,
that I really saw him for the first time.

I told him that I found him very handsome.

As it is.

He laughed a bit, rather foolishly.

He seemed a bit uneasy, like a
boy who isn't used to receiving compliments.

He didn't know what to say.

He thanked me.

Under the pretext that he was crowded,

we stayed close to each other as long as possible.



I didn't dare look at him.

And we didn't have much to say
to each other.

I felt ridiculous
but at the same time -

it was so nice to be there, next to him, close.

I remember that, on that day,
I wished that this was the beginning of something...

Of this story.

Unknowingly, the story had already begun,
but on that day -

he got up and left.

We keep on drinking
as we usually do.

Kostia arrives.

It is crowded. He doesn't sit at our table,
but stands in front of me.

He puts his hands on Olga's shoulders,
who bows her head.

I look at his hands as they work.

Calmly, he concentrates.

His hands sink into the flesh.

He is strong. She is soft.

He stares at me.

Intensely.

He won't let me go.

I am overwhelmed by a powerful sensation
that flows from my stomach and speading.

I feel hot.

He won't let me go.

I don't know where to look anymore.

I bow my head.

My sex hardens with each of his movements.

He stares at me, and I can see what
he's feeling, what he wants.

In that very moment,
he knows that I belong to him.

At that very moment,
he could do whatever he wanted with me.

It is me he massages,

I can feel it.

A date with Kostia.

He is handsome.

There are people eveywhere
with white balloons.

Kostia ties one to my jacket.

I watch him as he does it.
He's beautiful.

We are like children,
putting our cold hands down each others back.

We laugh.
We are having fun.

The game goes on
until we say goodbye.

I feel good.

Cheerful.

You are happy?

I don't know.

Yeah.

When you put your
fingers in my mouth -Yes

I think so.

Why do you ask me?

I don't know.
And you?

When I put my fingers in your mouth...

Yes, I guess so.

Maybe it's me who's not up to it.

Olga and I are hangout out in a cafe.

Kostia arrives.
We talk.

We looked at each other.

We smile at each other.
We look down.

I ask him if is
sleeping at my place.

He does not answer.
I tell him, "Come"

He follows me.

At home, we talk again,
For a long time.

He interrupts me in the middle of a sentence,
and throws his head on my chest.

He doesn't snuggle.
No, he is like an animal.

Highly strung.

With a sudden movement,
he drags me towards him.

My hands are folded on my chest.

He holds me, he strokes my head,

my neck, my shoulders,

with his fingertips.

Softly and firm
at the same time.

He would tell himself
that he likes my body.

I let meyself go. It feels good.

I have never been caressed like that.

I really don't know what I'm feeling.

But fear, yes, I admit it.

Every time we turn,
he kisses the back of my neck,

shoulders, neck

In the morning, he wakes me up.
He's late, I go back to sleep.

When I wake up I feel sad,

Lonely.

The hugs are strong.

Brutal.

Our bodies respond to every pressure.

We look for sensitive points and
squeeze them forcefully with our fingers.

We spent the night rubbing each other,

biting the other's neck,
looking for the limits.

Pain.

Pleasure.

Submission.

I'm afraid of what I feel.

I dare not think about it.

The games are always very intense.

I am less afraid.

I let myself go.

Slowly, I accept the pain
with less reservation.

I start to let myself go.

I want it.

The fight of our bodies is sensual,

brutal and exacerbated.

Everything is a contrast.

Every moment of pain gives
way to extreme tenderness.

We end up falling asleep exhausted.

I snuggle into his arms.

Hugs are strong,
but never strong enough.

I sleep badly.

My dreams distres me.

I am scared.

I dream that I drive a bus
full of passengers.

The road descends and turns
over and over again.

I can't control my driving.

I feel alone.

I only exist within this pain.

Lonely.

Only.

I don't feel capable of
existing without it.

I can't explain why.

I wake up and bite Kostia hard.

The pain makes him scream.

He tells me to be careful, that he gives
everything multiplied a hundred times.

without hesitation, I bite him again.
He screams and violently hits me.

His hand hits my side hard.

It is strong, precise and painful,
like a burn.

He does it again, punches over
and over again, my face, my back.

Is strong. Brutal.

It is the hand of a man.

I wish it would hit my sides again,
which are much more sensitive.

I wish he would hit me with his
fists, with his elbows.

He passes his hand between my thighs
and touches my sex for the first time.

I'm not hard.

I want him to hit me again
while he touches my sex.

Hard.

If its not new anymore.

I'm get bored.

I get bored when time pases.

Not always, sometimes.

There are moments when time
stands still.

Like with you.

Time stops.

That's what i find difficult
to lose.

I look for you everywhere.

In all of them.

I always wanted someone to hit me.

It's hard to say,
but I'm not ashamed.

It's been more than a week
without any news.

I'm going crazy.

What do we do with boys?

Where is the trauma?

Domination, is it the other
who inflicts it?

This is the first time I feel punished.

Punished for waiting for him,
for resisting.

For loving.

For loving what he is.

I have been waiting for you.

I don't want to get hit,
I want you to.

Wherever I am, I wait for you.

I want you to rape me.
I want to rape you.

Hit me. Please hit me.

I know that when the pain is too strong,

the only way to free myself is
to give it back a hundred fold.

There is no torturer among us.

The one who hits is the one who is hit.

I know it.

You know it.

I know it's you.

I don't remember where or when, but I do remember.

I remember waiting for you.

Since foever.

I remember that I forgot you.

In some place.

I know that soon, I will no longer be afraid,

afraid to remember
I can feel it.

I will fear nothing anymore.

I found you.

I invented you.

Be my instrument.

Let me.

Please.

I feel good with you.

I mean, not guilty.

You are a little boy.

And if we stop?

I don't know.

Are you bored?

No, is not that.

I don't know.

I thought we could end this way.

It's true.

No news.

Mental masochism.

Do you know that you are punishing me?

Are you punishing yourself?

What are you afraid of?

Why do you tell me that you want to see me?
Why?

Why do you impose this waiting between us?

When I'm alone, I think.

And when I think, I'm afraid.

Abandoned.

You abandoned me, you coward.

You are all cowards.

I thought that I was afraid,
it is you who is terrified.

Cowards.