seasons change (but people don't) (слэш)

“If there’s a girl I’m meant to be mourning, I want to know,” Bucky persists, as though Steve hasn’t had a close brush with asphyxiation right before his eyes. His foot twitches against Steve’s under the table.
“There wasn’t a girl,” Steve coughs. “Why…?”
Bucky’s gaze is sharp and discerning as his eyes flick back and forth between Steve’s.
“There was,” he says, right hand gripping the counter behind him in a white-knuckled grasp. “A girl. A small blonde girl.”