What Happens After Love Ends?

A conversation with kurohwin, the artist behind Romeo no Juliet

“What happens after love ends?”

That’s the quiet question that shapes the universe of Romeo no Juliet, a music project imagined and produced by kurohwin — a multidisciplinary artist whose work blends sound, design, and emotion into narratives that drift between memory and possibility.

Though known among some circles for his work as a musician, visual storyteller, and creative collaborator, kurohwin often prefers to remain behind the curtain. “I like building spaces for feelings,” he says. “Not explaining them. Just letting people walk in and stay there for a while.”

This particular space — Romeo no Juliet — is what he describes as “a cinematic diary that begins where most love stories end.”

“Not the drama. The silence after it.”

In the world of Romeo no Juliet, Romeo and Juliet didn’t die. Romeo left. Quietly. Without warning. And what follows isn’t a sequel or a retelling, but two sonic portraits — one from each side of the breakup.

“People always romanticize Romeo and Juliet as if it was the perfect tragedy,” kurohwin reflects. “But I wanted to know what happens after. Not the drama. The silence after it.”

The project is divided into two albums: No excuse! and Her. One follows Romeo as he drifts through Tokyo, trying to listen to the voice inside his head. The other stays with Juliet, still in her hometown, attempting to gather the pieces of her life.

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No excuse! — Romeo’s side, lost in Tokyo

In No excuse!, Romeo walks away — not as a villain, not as a savior, just a boy running from something he doesn’t know how to face.

“He leaves Juliet and ends up in Tokyo,” kurohwin explains. “But really, it’s not about the city. It’s about his headspace.”

The tracks feel like long conversations with no replies. Before spring ends captures the weight of emotional limbo. maybe tomorrow plays like a confession that can’t quite make it out.

With sparse arrangements and deliberate pauses, the album paints the outline of someone spiraling inward while pretending to move on.

“There’s no reason. No closure. That’s why it’s called No excuse!” kurohwin says. “Romeo is someone who left, but never really arrived anywhere else.”

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Her — Juliet stays, and listens to herself

In contrast, Her tells the story of the one left behind. Juliet doesn't chase. She doesn’t collapse either. She listens — to herself, to the stillness, to the life she has to rebuild.

“Juliet didn’t move. She stayed in her hometown,” kurohwin says. “That doesn’t mean she stood still.”

Her is soft but persistent. It’s quiet strength. It’s healing through repetition — the small rituals of day-to-day survival. Tracks like Don’t Let Your Tears Touch the Earth and Sliding Door don’t demand attention — they simply exist, like thoughts you return to when no one’s around.

“Juliet is the stillness,” kurohwin says. “But it’s not emptiness. There’s warmth, too. There's growth.”

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Where music becomes memory

Romeo no Juliet doesn’t shout. It doesn’t explain. It lets you sit in the space between movement and stillness, between the one who leaves and the one who stays.

As for kurohwin, he’s still exploring. “This isn’t a band,” he says. “It’s a story I’m still writing. Maybe one day it will end. Or maybe it never will.”

Until then, he invites you to listen — to the echoes of goodbye, and the voices that follow.