Seeing her again was the worst thing that could happen to him. He wasn't ready for it. She looked the same as he remembered. Her chestnut brown hair tied in a low ponytail that hung on her right shoulder, her dark green eyes looking at him with the same soft loving gaze like when he was a child. She looked a bit older though. She hadn't died young from her illness in this world, she got to live and have a family of her own, yet again he wiggled his way into that family and was now destroying it from the inside.
She wasn't his mom. She ISN'T his mom. He ISN'T her son. He's just pretending, letting her live with the illusion of her perfect little family. He knew he had no place there but he couldn't stop himself. At nights he cried from the guilt and she didn't know anything. She'd simply sit on his bed and wrap her arms around him, stroking his hair softly and whispering that it was just a nightmare and that everything will be fine. And the guilt worsened. He knew it wouldn't be fine. One day she'd find the truth out and she would hate him for pretending to be him, for BECOMING him. Her son.
He had passed through the Gate not once, not twice, but thrice. The first time he woke up into someone else's body, in a place called London. He saw his father and talked to him. Then he died. The Zeppelin crashed into the ground taking his (who was he kidding, it wasn't him) life, and he passed through It again, going back to Amestris and the City beneath Central. He fought Envy (his own unknown older half brother) and he died again. He came back but Alphonse was gone. So he did what he knew how to do best for his brother. He sacrificed himself. But instead of dying, he passed the Gate for the third and last time. He woke up in Germany, he had the option of staying there, yet he and his father went back to the place of his death, London. He tracked down and visited his own grave, to apologize to himself (it wasn't him), but he only found someone crying. It took only a few moments for her to jump on him and sob into his shirt about how happy she was that he was alive and that she thought she lost him forever. It didn't take long for him to start crying as well, muttering apologies and reassuring words over and over.
She was happy to see her husband (it wasn't him) and horrified when she discovered her son's (it wasn't him) missing limbs, and he hated to see her cry over that.
'Who would do this to my sweet little boy?' tears stained her face as she cursed the Germans.
All he could do was hug her back, he didn't dare speak. He didn't have the right to. Neither he nor his father dared to tell her the truth. After all, he wasn't her son. They weren't her true family.
But for her sake, all they could do was let her live in her illusion.
Her illusion of her husband and son (but it wasn't them), who came back to her.
Wow i actually proofread this thing that i wrote when drunk lol