God above, he hadn't meant to hurt him. Not like this. Not so deeply that her name came up. He couldn't remember the last time it had been spoken, not even at Grantaire's most drunk. Perhaps when it had first happen, when she'd first left the world. And Enjolras, emotionally stunted as everyone claimed, hadn't known how to react. His own pain at losing her had felt minimal compared to the ocean he knew his friend was drowning in. And instead of offering the anchor to save him then, he'd pulled away, too much it now seemed. Buried himself in his cause instead of being the friend that Grantaire obviously so desperately needed.
"I know it hurts," he said now, taking the first step in attempting to make up for all those years. "More so now than I did even then. I don't know what I would do if it were 'Ponine. And I accept that you may never be the same again." Hurt and loss changed people. He'd seen plenty of that in Lawrence including, in some ways, in himself. "But this?" his hand waved over at Grantaire's unkempt appearance. "This isn't you. And I don't expect you to return to the man you were. I could never ask that of you. But you do need to get your head out of that haze and return to us."
He knew he was asking too much. But he wouldn't, couldn't give up on the causes he held most dear. And helping Grantaire to return his life to a better place was currently the most important to him.