The Christmas Shawn quit his job working for the mob, it hadn't been a choice between good and bad. It was a choice between dark and light, maybe, but that wasn't the same thing.
The dark was the unknown. The dark was uncertainty. The dark meant exploring. It was cold, but interesting. Shawn had always felt comfortable in the dark. Shawn had always felt he *belonged* in the dark, like he was predestined for it.
The light was warm, though. The light nurtured his aching soul. The light smoothed the worry lines on his forehead, kissed his hair, and tucked him in at night. The light was security, and he almost always knew what to expect from it.
Cory and his family were light. Any other path was the dark.
He could go back to the dark any time he wanted, he knew that. Once you turned away from the light, though, it was hard to come back. (At least, that's what he assumed. He always felt like he was walking on a tightrope, and any second the Matthews would have enough of his antics. That hadn't happened yet, thankfully.)
That Christmas, he wasn't supposed to stand in the snow holding the "teddy bear" box.
That Christmas, Shawn was meant to be at the Matthews House; all warm and lit up and smelling like pine needles and christmas cookies.
Shawn was going to sing Christmas carols and eat Mrs. Matthews' famous cooking. He was going to sit by the fire and watch everyone laugh and enjoy each others' company. Shawn was going to open presents. He was going to drink hot chocolate. At the end of the night, he'd feel content as Mr. Feeny read A Christmas Carol to them all.
Shawn knew his place, knew that he wouldn't last forever in the Matthews clan; he was too dark.
He was just going in to get warm.