Azure the teacher

'(you are anyone)'
Recently, Two Time and his classmates entered eleventh grade. Some of his teachers have changed, including his math and physics teachers. Now they're taught by a man named Azur. It's a strange name for this country. Of course, he has a patronymic, but he asked his students to simply call him Azur and, in a way, treat him like a friend.

After some time, Two Time became Azur's favorite due to his good behavior and academic performance. Although, perhaps there was some other affection behind this, not just between teacher and student, but something more. Who knows.

However, one day, Time didn't get enough sleep. Insomnia was to blame; he couldn't sleep all night, so he spent the night drawing and went to bed around five o'clock, and naturally, he couldn't get a good night's sleep.
Azur noticed this, but called Two Time to the board anyway, as she had fewer marks than the other students. Naturally, the latter answered rather poorly, as her mind was consumed with thoughts of nothing but bed. Azur, much as he didn't want to, was forced to give her a two.

— Come after class, I'll explain the topic.

Time nodded. He didn't want to ruin his reputation as an excellent student, so he decided to agree. He was completely free that day anyway.
And so, the last lesson ended. Time's classmates rushed home, and he went to the math room. Knocking on the door, he opened it slightly and quietly asked:

— May I?

Azur nodded, smiling calmly. The classroom was unusually empty, but that didn't bother Time. He went to his seat at the front of the room, pulled out his pencil case, notebook, and textbook, and sat down, looking intently at the teacher.
The latter began to tell him something, and Time listened attentively, occasionally jotting down theorems and formulas in his notebook, occasionally glancing out the window. He lay down on his desk and closed his eyes, listening to the wonderful melodic voice. After a few minutes, he no longer heard the teacher; he simply enjoyed his voice.
Azur, noticing this, asked quietly, bowing his head:

— Nightshade, are you listening to me?