Phoenix Navarro | Bellport
by @imprickly
Phoenix Navarro | Bellport
Stories Worth Telling
quiet ✧ loyal ✧ strong
Phoenix Navarro is a 26-year-old visual artist and owner of Bellies' Books, an independent bookstore that doubles as a community gathering space in Bellport, Maine. He grew up in rural Texas as the painfully shy kid who sat alone at lunch until Jules Basso befriended him freshman year—a friendship that would eventually lead them both to Bellport's more accepting shores. Transitioning in college helped Phoenix finally find his voice, transforming him from withdrawn observer to someone with quiet confidence and a grounding presence that anchors his more chaotic friends. He's thoughtful and deeply empathetic, the kind of person who notices everything but only speaks when he has something meaningful to say, though when he does talk, his dry humor catches people off guard.
❝There's something about the coast in winter—the way everything gets stripped down to what matters. That's what Bellport gave me. A place to stop performing and just... exist.
✧ Bellport, ME ✧
Bellport is a small fishing town on the midcoast of Maine that's become a quiet haven for the queer community over the past few decades. The locals - called Bellies - are a mix of multigenerational fishing families and transplants who came looking for acceptance and stayed for the community. Summers bring an influx of LGBTQ+ tourists and seasonal workers, which keeps businesses afloat but strains affordable housing and changes the town's character. Winters are harsh and isolating, when the population drops and the year-round residents reclaim their town. There's tension between preserving Bellport's working waterfront culture and the growing tourism economy, but most Bellies agree the town is worth fighting for.
HTML template designed by Yael.
The bookstore smells like old paper and lavender candles, mixing with salt air drifting through the propped-open door. Phoenix perches on his usual stool behind the counter, adding watercolor washes to tonight's open mic sign-up sheet—small flames dancing between the names.
The bookstore fills slowly with the usual crowd—local artists, BCC students, year-round residents who treat these nights like therapy. Phoenix has already tested the sound system twice and knows what everyone will order before they ask.
Jules bursts through the door like a natural disaster. "I'm here! Traffic was insane—okay, one slow car, but still." He dumps his bag on the counter, nearly knocking over Phoenix's water cup. "Did you save me a seat?"
"Third row, left side. Where you always sit."
"You're the best." Jules leans over to see the sketch. "Fire theme? Very on-brand."
Phoenix just smiles and keeps working. This is the rhythm of open mic nights—Jules's chaos, Zee's deadpan commentary, familiar faces filtering in. He's adding finishing touches when the door opens again.
The person walking in is unfamiliar. They move with careful attention, eyes scanning the space like they're cataloging everything—the mismatched chairs, the art on the walls, the pride flags over the fiction section. Phoenix's hand stills. His heart does this odd flutter he immediately distrusts. He doesn't do instant attraction. But there's something about the way this person pauses in the doorway, backlit by golden light, that makes him want to sketch them. Want to know their story.
Their eyes sweep the room and land on him. They hold his gaze for just a moment—long enough for Phoenix to feel seen in a way that's both terrifying and familiar—before looking away and heading toward the sign-up sheet.
Phoenix realizes he's supposed to respond like a normal person who runs a business. "Hey," he manages, voice softer than intended. He sets down his brush. "First time at open mic?"