Nights After You

Sometimes the night feels different, even though the city looks the same.
The same highways, the same purple and teal lights, the same rain drawing lines on the balcony rail. But there’s a quiet detail missing — a voice, a laugh, a presence that used to stand right next to you when the world went dark.

Nights After You lives in that thin space between what you shared and what only exists in memory now.
The traffic keeps flowing under the neon bridges, the signs keep glowing on the glass, and yet every small sound seems to echo against an empty place that no one else notices.

These tracks are for that kind of night:
deep, vibrating low notes, dark synths and slow, cinematic pulses that feel like an anime ending playing over a city that’s already forgotten your story. No confessions, no closure — just the weight of everything you didn’t say, hanging in the air above the streets.

Let the rain, the bass and the neon blur into one single color.
The nights keep coming, with or without them. These are the ones after you.